Lord Rama and the Squirrel

 Day-20

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: For today, try writing your own poem that uses an animal that shows up in myths and legends as a metaphor for some aspect of a contemporary person’s life. Include one spoken phrase.

This story is found in the epic" Ramayana". A squirrel helped Lord Rama, along with the monkey warriors and bears, to build the Ram Setu (bridge). 

                                                                          Image: Google

How tiny it was in front of the task

There were big boulders to lift, 

The destination was too long

Everybody was laughing at it

A nuisance in the midst.

It looked up at the lord

With devotion in its big eyes

With great courage

Scurried across the beach

Picked up pebbles

Some grains of sand

To fill the gaps

The bridge got stronger

So the awe in the eyes of others.

The lord observed

With kindness in his eyes

He was charmed with the

Devotion, love, and dedication

Shown by the little one

Despite its size.

He picked it up and ran his fingers

Across the little one's back

Blessing it for a lifetime

With three beautiful stripes.

No effort is too small

If it is done with pure intent.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Hibiscus

 Day-19

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: The word florilegium refers to a book of botanical illustrations of decorative plants and also a collection of excerpts from other writings.  In her poem, “Florilegium,” Canadian poet Sylvia Legris gathers together many five-lined stanzas that describe flowers but also play with the sounds of their names, their medical (or poisonous) qualities, and historical aspects of herbalism. Today, pick a flower or two (or a whole bouquet, if you like) from this online edition of Kate Greenaway’s Language of Flowers. Now, write your own poem in which you muse on your selections’ names and meanings. If you’re so inclined, you could even do some outside research into your flowers and incorporate facts that you learn into your work.

                                                                      pic: sunita

full of life and awe

kaleidoscopic rainbow

delicate beauty

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Rakhandar- The Village God

 Day-18

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Today, we don’t challenge you to write all of a long, dramatic, narrative poem, but we invite you to try your hand at writing a poem that could be a section or piece of one. Include rhyme, include unlikely and dramatic scenes (maybe a poem about a bank robbery! Or an avalanche! Or Roman gladiators! Or an enormous ball held by mermaids, where there is an undercurrent (hee) of palace intrigue!) Basically, a poem with the plot of an opera (evil twins! Egyptian tombs! Star-crossed lovers! Tigers for no apparent reason!)

                                                                    image- Google

                                                   

In the evening, in the sweltering summer

They waited in sync with bated breath to listen to her

Her stories invoked the smouldering rage

Of all the dark demons roaming in the village.

She would tighten the saree pallu fiercely 

Sit with her grandchildren, looking at them tenderly

Slowly, she would pile up layer after layer of stories

About the Rakhandar and his midnight soirees.

The young ones, with the pin-drop silence of the night, listen

Rakhandar, he was called by everyone, the village guardian.

He wore a dhoti, a turban, ghungroo on his feet and a goatskin shawl on his shoulder.

With a huge lathi and a mashall in his hands, a beedi in his mouth, he would wander.

Scouting the village with blazing eyes in the middle of the night

Banging his lathi, roaring loudly like a dragon, slaying the evil knights

His temples are sacred in the Goan villages. He is the  destroyer of evil

Nobody stepped out of their houses when he was on his night patrol. 

She would put out the lamp as soon as the kids fell asleep

They have dozed off listening to her voice in the shadows of the lamp.

There was no electricity in the village. By seven, it used to get dark

The thatched roof scurried with rats, and the streets echoed with a dog's bark.

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

Legacy

 Day-17

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: Sergio Raimondi’s poem, “Today Matsuo Basho Cooks,” plays on the following haiku by (you guessed it), Matsuo Basho:

Crimson pepper pod!

Add two pairs of wings, and look—

darting dragonfly.

For today’s challenge, write a poem in which you respond to a favorite poem by another poet

                                                                          image: sneha

deadly reflection

the mirror of ancestors

generation trap

In response to " First autumn morning" by Murakami Kijo

First autumn morning

the mirror I stare into

shows my father's face

Participating in: NaPoWriMo-2026

My Jasmine Plant

 Day-16

NaPoWriMo-2026

Prompt: In “Ocean,” Robinson Jeffers delivers an almost oracular, scriptural description of the sea not just as a geographical phenomenon, but a sort of being – old, wise, profound, and able to teach those who want to learn. Today, try writing a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.

Shrivelled the whole year

With twigs and a barren exterior

Suddenly, comes to life in summer

Enhanced with green foliage

Growing into a curtain of white clusters.

Every morning and evening

A new beginning, 

The blooming buds

Bring so much bliss

With their fragrant smiles.

A lesson learnt- 

Wait for the silver lining,

Life is hard, but worth living.

Participating: NaPoWriMo-2026

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