It seems this new house has always been here, this loose soil, ready for me, some visitors carrying souvenirs, like good friends opening their soft arms, waiting since a long time. Perhaps I should now sow my routine here, be patient, for it will take a few summer noons to learn the way from old …
THINGS I CANNOT CROCHET
I haven't crocheted for over a year now. I was only a beginner but gave up too soon. May be I should try just one more time. THINGS I CANNOT CROCHET winter noons traded for coinsselling your greensto random passers by cindrella shoes from your Paris haulworn untilthey pinched tiny wars between us,your nudgespricking myteenage …
A Hot Noon in the Hills
Dear Reader Today's poem takes after a prompt by Alt Poetry who discussed Kamala Das' poems during their recent offline meet in Bangalore. It is a response to her poem, A Hot Noon in Malabar. The prompt was to have a similar title and be inspired. I read the poem closely and hence my response …
A Writing Room
Dear Reader, I don’t have a poem today. While poem-ing has been my main occupation this month (from reading to writing verses), I am not much of a routine-person. It’s not a concept I enjoy. Being this way brings its own share of miseries, but not being this way will perhaps bring an unfathomable agony. …
Because I Cannot Be Spring
Dear Readers, The distances we travel aren't just measured in numbers. They are also measured in terms of who we become, the tectonic shifts that happen within us. As a writer/poet, I cannot stay where I was when I started out. Not just in terms of how I view my journey but also in terms …
To the God of Senile Men
Today's NaPoWriMo attempt is on a prompt I came across on Instagram. I may not be writing a poem every day, but poem-ing in April is definitely giving me a high. Thank you for reading. TO THE GOD OF SENILE MEN The peace lilies died by their windows, a couple more will do, please but …
