Was It Love?

 Day-15

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: K. Siva Reddy’s poem, “A Love Song Between Two Generations,” weaves together repetitions, questions, and unexpected similes with plain language. The overall effect is both intimate and emotional, producing a long-form meditation on what love is, what it means, and how it acts.  Today, we’d like you to write your own poem that muses on love, but isn’t a traditional love poem in the sense of expressing love between romantic partners.

                                                                            Image: From a friend

She waited for the last word.

A word of reassurance

From the biting swells

To the unstoppable heartbeats

To feel at home…

He held her hands,

As they walked 

 Towards the horizon

In silence

His touch speaking

  An unknown language...

They bonded as two halves.

Synchronized in a melody 

Moving on a crescent of emotions

Their hearts spoke up for them

Glistening tears join in rhythm…

They found each other.

The destined strangers

In the portals of life

What was it they felt?

For bringing them together...

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Archaic Soul

 Day-14

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Poetry is an ancient art, and one that revisits themes that existed thousands of years ago – love, nature, jealousy. But that doesn’t mean that poets live in a sort of pre-history unaffected by technological advances. Emily Dickinson wrote about trains, and I’m rather charmed by this 1981 poem about the “incredible hair” of actors on television. In a more recent example, Becca Klaver’s “Manifesto of the Lyric Selfie” draws inspiration from the contemporary drive to document everything in digital photographs. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that similarly bridges (whether smoothly or not) the seeming divide between poetry and technological advances.

                                                                            Image: Sneha

Between her and the modern world

lies a thin barrier of archaic chant,

a timeless chime, a silent whisper.

She possesses the soul of a hermit.

Her world stretches in the arms of nature,

where the sea embraces the earth,

the sheltered verdant palms and sepia shore

caresses her soulful breath.

The modern world and its gadgets

cannot impress her nor impact her lifestyle.

Friends ask her why she is not on Instagram,

Why does she not use social media to stay in touch?

She smiles and evades the tornado of questions.

How about ChatGPT to enhance her poems?

What! Why? Bamboozled! She feels,

Poetry is the language of the heart

Words cannot be scanned and sold

Why make it bite the artificial byte!

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

The Playground

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.

                                                 Image: Sunita   (My School Playground)

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

Pandu Mama

Day-12

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Amarjit Chandan has a pretty wild biography, but his poetry is often focused on place and memory – with his hometown of Nakodar appearing repeatedly. His poem “Uncle Mohan Singh” recounts, with a sort of dreaminess, a memory of the titular uncle playing the accompaniment to a silent film. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that recounts a memory of a beloved relative, and something they did that echoes through your thoughts today.

                                                           My maternal grandparents' house

The whole village gathered

To pay their last respects

Was very much loved

By young and old

A tractor mechanic, he was

Much in demand

In the small mining hamlet

The  monster

Took his life tumbling

Across a bridge with the

Blades in his chest in 1975.

He was 33, my Pandu mama.

I was his favourite niece.

I still miss the yummy

Pez, he used to make

Especially for me

With methi seeds and jaggery

During the summer vacation.

Mama- maternal uncle.

Pez- rice gruel

Methi-fenugreek seeds

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

True Value of Life

Day-11

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own erasure/blackout poem. You could use a page from a favorite book, a magazine, or what have you. It can be especially fun to play with a book you don’t know, particularly one that deals with an unfamiliar topic. If you’d like to go that route, maybe you’ll find something of interest in the thousands of scanned books at the Internet Archive? Feel free to maintain the whitespace of the original text (as is traditional for erasures/blackouts... if anything can be called traditional about them) or to pluck words/phrases from your chosen source material and rearrange them.

Life serves man

realize values

opportunity

fulfillment.

Experiencing nature

purpose of high

moral behaviour.

Creative life

life of enjoyment.

Meaning in life,

suffering, part of life

even fate and death

without suffering

cannot be complete.

I recently completed reading " Man's Search for Meaning" by Viktor Frankl. What a powerful book. It lifts one's spirit to a higher order. Pain cannot be separated from existence. It makes one stronger to face every challenge in life with determination.

Here is the original excerpt:

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Desire

Day-10

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt:  In his poem, “Goodbye,” Geoffrey Brock describes grief in three short stanzas, the second of which is entirely made up of a rhetorical dialogue. Today, write your own meditation on grief. Try using Brock’s form as the “container” for your poem: a few short stanzas, with a middle section in which a question is repeated with different answers given.

                                                                             Image: Sunita

We are chained to a time frame

Tied in a grip of lost moments

Across the barbed wire, our hearts 

Whisper each other's name.

(Do you miss me? You do love,

with salt in your eyes. Breathe again.

Do you miss me? Hope you have an

image to carry to your grave.)

Missing you makes the heart bleed.

Time has wrapped all,

the pain in a bottle, before the fall,

aching with the lingering need.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Ginu

 Day-9

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt:  Marianne Moore was a well-known modernist poet with a curious taste in hats. Though she wrote on many themes, I’ve always had some affection for her many poems about – or in the voice of – animals, such as “The Fish,” “Dock Rats,” “The Pangolin,” and “No Swan so Fine.” Today, try writing your own poem in the voice of an animal or plant, or a poem that describes a specific animal or plant with references to historical events or scientific facts.

Longing to write

For so long, it hurts

How long has it been?

Three months?

It feels as if time has stood still 

I miss you, my beautiful girl

Your soft, bluish brownish,

 beautiful eyes, adoringly

asking to smooth your 

cuddly fur, and rub your belly.

My shiny black beauty

I miss you every day

Laddu finds it difficult

to go for walks alone with Papa

he searches every corner 

you were yin and yang, but

 fiercely loved each other

He misses you 

The house feels empty

without your pranks

barking at the crows

chasing the birds and lizards

the slightest noise 

made your ears perk.

 You brought so much joy

 caring and ferocious 

thirteen years of

unconditional love

We miss you 

My students

 neighbours, friends, and family

cannot stop asking,

"Where is Ginu?"

With a huge lump in my throat

and a tight knot in my chest

I say," Ginu at the rainbow bridge

waiting for me on the other side."

We all miss you.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Time Zone

 Day-8

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Here’s our optional prompt for the day! In his poem, “Poet, No Thanks,” Jean D’Amérique repeats the phrase “I wasn’t a poet” multiple times, while describing other things that he instead claims to have been. In your poem for today, use a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase.

  

                                                               Image: Sneha

Fifties and still struggling

to find the perfect launching

dreamer to the core

sounding very obscure

Like a mirage.

Decades of working through the bones

pushing down the aches and scorns

trying standing tall

in the face of a broken wall

Like a mirage.

Visualizing her younger self

full of dreams in her eyes

carefree and filled with life

chasing stars on tiptoes 

Like a mirage.

She remembers the happy days

young and strong and beautiful too

now, broken and shattered

with a crisscrossed road map marked

Like a mirage.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Happy Times

 Day-7

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: In her poem, “Front Yard Rhyme,” Cecily Parks evokes the sing-songy beats that accompany girls’ clapping games, and jump-rope and skipping rhymes. Today, we challenge you to write your own poem that emulates these songs – something to snap, clap, and jump around to.

                                                                             Image: Sneha

Holidays!

Clear skies

Neighbourhood's kids

Ready to take the bite

All gather in the bylanes

The boys with cricket bats

Some boys on the bicycles 

The lovely pigtailed girls

Just below my balcony plays

Hide and seek

Here they go...

Selecting the chaser

"Aah Mina, aah Mina (Chorus)

Kaccha mina, kaccha mina(claps)

Sing a song

Ding a dong (claps)

Carrom board

Barram board

STOP!

I watch them with 

A raptured smile

Blessed childhood.

And I sing!

Eina mina myna moe

Catch the bad boy by his toes

If he cries, let him go

Eina mina myna moe.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Timeless

 Day-6

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: In your poem today, try writing with a breezy, conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream.

                                                                  Image: Sneha

A sudden shift

 Unannounced

The moods are on a swing

Enough!

Enough for today

A faded look in the eyes

She measures the lifelines

Loneliness cannot be measured

Still, those lifelines speak of

A new dawn on the horizon

As predicted, among 

All the debris and rubbles

It will happen sooner or later

A moment to settle things

Delve into all the ashes

And mountains of rubble

To find specks of peace

Whatever she needs for

Happiness...

A PERFECT SUNRISE!

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Distaste

 Day-5

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Today, your challenge is to take a page from Catullus and Darwin, and write a poem in which you talk about disliking something – particularly something utterly innocuous, like clover. Be over the top! Be a bit silly and overdramatic.

                                                                     Image: Internet

How I hate that slimy thing

Sticky, yucky, and ugly!

The better half never forgets

To get that thing from the market.

But I stay away from it 

As much as I can muster

A courageous denial.

I know, it has medicinal benefits.

It can heal my creaking joints.

If that makes any sense

Considering the emotional

Drama it evokes

Everybody in my house loves it

The sticky, yucky, slimy thing.

Gosh! The smell, the look

Causes my tongue to burn

And my stomach to churn

Why should they name it

After ladies' fingers?

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026