Day-13
NaPoWriMo-2026
Prompt: Today’s prompt, first read Walter de la Mare’s poem “A Song of Enchantment.” Then, John Berryman’s poem “Footing Our Cabin’s Lawn, Before the Wood.” Both poems work very differently, yet leave you with a sense of the near-fantastical possibilities of the landscapes they describe. Try your hand today at writing your own poem about a remembered, cherished landscape. It could be your grandmother’s backyard, your schoolyard basketball court, or a tiny strip of woods near the railroad tracks. At some point in the poem, include language or phrasing that would be unusual in normal, spoken speech – like a rhyme, or syntax that feels old-fashioned or high-toned.
Flashes of amazing memories
touch my soul,
as I reminisce,
about the school days.
On this ground, indulging in sports,
playing hide and seek
behind that chapel,
built by the Portuguese in 1526.
The road on one side, and
a small rivulet on the other end.
The green paddy fields spread
on the western borders
tilled by the Kunbi tribe
under the shadow of
the valleyed hills.
The paddy harvest gleaned,
goldenly flushed in the sun's heat.
The magnificent hills
stretching as far
as the eye could see
Nestled among,
boraah and cashew trees.
The ground, adorned
with a canopy of green,
biggest in the village, was
a haven for local football teams,
Dempo, Sesa Goa, Chowgule,
showed their prowess on the field.
Playing cricket for the first time
After India won the 1983 World Cup
With teachers and classmates
Memorable moments. Playing kabaddi,
In the rain with white tees and black shorts.
What glorious days those were!
Participating,
in the athletics meet
trying to reach the finishing line
100 mts, 400 mts, and relays.
Annual Sports Day, Parades
Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow houses
To the dreambeats
In a synchronised march past.
Colourful balloons
waving across, the
azurine sky and cheering crowd
What days of reminiscences!
There were no fences,
to chain the open spaces,
To shut out the ambiance,
of the verdant hills.
Now, the beauty is marred
by monstrous dusty flyovers
and screeching railway bridges.
Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026
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