GloPoWriMo 2020: 18/30

Today’s poem stems from the prompt that asks me to write about life’s simple pleasures. There is a lot that I’m grateful for every single day – especially these days. Being at home for the past month, though, has reminded me of the pleasure that was living and growing up in this bedroom. I’m also very grateful to have an attached bathroom these days, and that forms today’s poem.

Health Faucet

When I was a young boy,
The washroom had a small little sink in addition to a big one –
Far too low for a regular human of any size to reach
I’d always assumed that’s where babies were bathed,
These special sinks to keep them cozy.
I had no idea these were bidets,
Used to clean oneself after the greatest part of the day.

I’ve always used health faucets, so Outbound Trips and America felt strange
Toilet paper always disarmed me,
I felt robbed of my only weapon –
Something one of my friends called a “potty gun”,
Leaving me in splits.

At University, we had two options:
An seat in-built jet-spray and the mug,
My pre-bathroom checklist included flushing,
Checking if the jet spray worked,
And praying.

That’s why returning home felt comfortable –
Not my beanbag,
Not my bed,
But my trusty health faucet, with
It’s 100-pin holed head.

GloPoWrimo 2020: 17/30

Today’s napowrimo prompt asks me to write a poem about forgotten technology. This was a tricky one because I’m very fond of technology in general, and old technology in particular.


All I hear on my chiclet-style keys are
Letters on a word processor –

How I wish,
My blogposts would sing.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 16/30

Today’s poem asks me to write over-the-top compliments. I am very capable of these, but I’d like to write a few backhand compliments about group project members. In groups, we invariably let each other down when it comes to projects and submissions. I’ve been a victim of this, but also a cause – particularly in my third-year.

Group Project Member

Dear Group Project Member,
If there is one thing I like about you, it is that I have many things to like about you,
I would love to spend every minute of every day, sitting and chatting about things,
However, I really have to get stuff done.
If you knew how much I thought about you,
I would be very embarrassed.
You’re so independent (I wish the group wasn’t compulsory), and
Charming when you make an effort.
You give me so much to look forward each day – and your
E-mails light up my inbox since I know
That we can get done with our work now.



GloPoWriMo 2020: 15/30

Today’s prompt asks me to write a poem that is inspired by my favourite type of music. The good folk over at NaPoWriMo deserve a commendation for the prompts they come up with year on year. They’re always so educational in the manner they phrase the prompt – and all the resources are absolutely lovely.

Da Ba Dee

If you asked me any time till University,
What my favourite genre of music would be,
I would reply techno, or house, or electronica,
Linking you to Blue (Da Ba Dee),

It was dance music I loved while I sat, working,
They never made me dance, but they sent my brain whirring,
There was something about the consistent rhythm, the mixing, the bass,
It never felt understated, the melody shone through in your face.

Yet over the last few years, I have found,
Music is everywhere, and there are melodies abound,
All that is necessary is to search in the right place,
To ask the right people, who can put you through to analogue tunes –
Aside from things made on a digital interface.

That opened my mind up, and I’ve heard so much since then –
No longer do I have a favourite genre, but music for moods,
Whether intense, relaxed, or just zen, and
Although that has changed my preferences, if you stop and ask me,
What’s your favourite song?
I’ll still reply “Blue (Da Ba Dee)”

GloPoWriMo 2020: 14/30

Today’s prompt is fascinating. It offers a chance to write about what inspires me to write poetry. My own inspiration comes from two things. The first is my primary school: where poetry recitation was compulsory, earned you merit cards, and was a very fun activity. The second is my mother, who enjoys things that rhyme and trained me for all those poetry recitations by making me memorize verses. They came in handy through my Grade 10 English Literature examinations. I’ve been inspired, quite literally, by all the verse I’ve been exposed to since I was very, very young, and I’m very fortunate to be in that position. Writing this poem is therefore slightly tricky, but I hope to showcase my personal narrative as best I can.


Ms. Tandon, in Grade 3, chose the poem,
Homework, Oh Homework!, to recite at our Assembly,
I was in love, instantly,
“I hate you, you stink!” was my rebellion of the times, particularly given that
I could not draw a Fish, as expected of us for Science.

In Grade 6, Ms. Kotian introduced me to Leisure
Following it up with some Wordsworth,
In Grade 8, I refused to study Geography, and
Ms. Dasgupta and Ms. Narayan introduced me to
Pied Beauty, Pike, and A Different History.

In Grades 11 and 12, when I missed studying Literature,
My mother drew me aside,
She found a book of handwritten poems,
Filled with rhyming couplets inside.

They tickled me pink and brought a smile to my face,
A rhyme scheme of abab – my mother was a poetry ace.

In March this year I discovered Rumi,
In a way significant to my life –
Shams-i-Tabrizi, Ghalib, and he,
Mahadevi Verma, and Bahinabai Chaudhari.

All of these inspire me,
Collectively, yet
As I sit rattling away keystrokes to
Write free verse,
Every April.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 13/30

Today’s poem challenges me to write a non-apology for something I stole. Of course, this is a good way for the kind folk at NaPoWriMo to keep tabs on all of the things people steal. Here is mine:

Lonely as a Cloud

Dear Mr. Wordsworth,
I hope this letter finds you well – and safe,
May these times grant you rest, and peace,
From your weary state,
I write to you to inform you I have taken the wonderful verse you’ve written –
“I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud”,
And converted it to poetry of my own.
I will not be sending you any money in royalties,
For you are past copyright, good sire, and
Even if protected, this is a personal, non-commercial use,
You may read my verses, they aren’t half as
Lyrical as yours,
I do think you’ll enjoy them,
Particularly when on your couch you lie,
In vacant or pensive mood,
These are no daffodils,
But the laughter may cure your solitude.
I seem to have done it again, William,
I hope you’ll forgive me –
It was never my intention,
Now, however, we are contemporaries.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 12/30

Today’s challenge is to write a triolet. The triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.


So short-lived, so fleeting,
Instant, and slow
My mind turns, dreamlands offer a greeting,
So short-lived, so fleeting,
Into a higher world, my body, retreating,
Of happiness, this feels apropos,
So short-lived, so fleeting,
Instant, and slow


GloPoWriMo 2020: 11/30

I love today’s prompt. It takes inspiration from the language of flowers, and even gives me the freedom to consider making up my own meanings.


Every Valentines’ Day, my father buys a bouquet of flowers for my mother,
They’re always bright and colourful,
Hues of yellow, orange, and pink,
It is clear he understands romance,
Is trained in floriography, for he buys flowers that clearly communicate
If you ask me to buy you plants, or flowers,
I am not sure I will make a sprightly, colourful bouquet,
I will buy you a solitary cactus,
It is low-maintenance, so will bear with your memory,
It will remind you to drink water regularly,
More importantly,
It will endure,
As Shams Tabrizi said,
I hope it gives you the patience to look at the thorn,
And see the rose, for
That is what I see in myself, and see in you.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 10/30

Today’s prompt is short and sweet. When I did GloPoWriMo in 2017, the first year I tried my hand at writing poetry properly, I used haikus as an escape from the routine. Short poems that completed prompts without too much effort. This was also because I had a very strict “no-editing” policy on the blog, a result of which was that I spilt out whatever word spilt out from my brain, irrespective of what they ended up sounding like on paper. It felt easy, but sincerely, it always felt like the lazy way out – when I didn’t feel particularly inspired. Today though, asks me to write a Haynaku – a variant of the haiku, where the poem’s stanzas has three lines: first one with one word, second with two words, and third with three words.


Is confused
loneliness, without burdens.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 9/30

Today’s prompt asks me to write a “concrete” poem – one that takes the shape of the thing that inspires it. I’m not fully sure how to do this just with my words, but I shall attempt this nonetheless. Of course, forgive the lack of title.

I cannot
Place my finger on when mammals became
Cold-blooded reptiles
But somewhere it seems that Nokia game afflicted us all, since, while it provided us entertainment, it also gave us the
Simile, Slimy, like a



GloPoWriMo 2020: 8/30

Today’s poem gives me the opportunity to incorporate something written by another poet into a piece of my own. I feel like I’ve done this before, in the prompt about Dreams, where I essentially just took William Wordsworth’s amazing “lonely as a cloud” and weaved it in.

Tread Softly 

Tread softly, for you tread on my dream – my
Singular point of focus, my raison d’etre,
All things are not what they seem,
Hate, it prickles like Thallium,

GloPoWriMo 2020: 7/30

I’ve enjoyed thinking about today’s prompt, which challenges me to write a poem based on a news article. I picked this one: A Man Fell Into An Art Installation Called Descent Into Limbo

Descent Into Limbo

Have you read Holes?
The Camp Counselor says pits build character,
And although by accident, and extremely painful,
My descent into limbo – a step into the unknown,
Into vantablack, where a luminous source was Godsend, and
Earth and Heaven melded into one: the great Above,
Built character indeed.

It was a few minutes, but the pit worked its ways and
My privilege felt like a burden that was too much to bear for
I am an art lover with
The means to enjoy art,
To whom this is but a void,
To everyone oppressed, whose voices are suppressed,
This is their
Daily existence,
Their limbo

And they do not descend into it –
They are
Born into it,
Yet those in power make
Them dig,
And dig,
And dig,
Till all that is left in the void is