#NaPoWriMo Day 5 Challenge: Write a poem in which you talk about disliking something – particularly something utterly innocuous, like clover. Its glow steals the soft peach of the dark and swaps it for a cold, plastic white. My night light is not a guide; it’s a witness to the fact that I’m still awake. …
Dry and dusty ‘loo’ in the desert of Rajasthan brings messages of fatigue and heat strokes. Against this lethargy inducing wind, the makeshift kitchens yields its heat beating cures; the sharp bite of raw onions and watered down yogurt drinks. Guarded by the Aravali ranges, the dusty "snow" of the dunes begins to settle with …
Peaks of rugged stone, Nothingness spans the deep veins, Gazing at the floor. Silent in the ocean’s pit, Vows of always meet never. A Tanka a day! 4/1/26 NaPoWriMo Prompt. A five-line poem with a 5 / 7 / 5 / 7 / 7 syllable-count.
The glossy, thick coat of lipstick she applies, Before she goes to the midtown bars, all for a beau. Today a pink, a pick me up, Or a seductive red for someone new. She waits for the one, someone, anyone in this crowded, bustling place. Some days it’s just water, ten bucks saved to save …
Ghazal Your beautiful words spread like Chanel Number Five. The few syllables I utter, fall flat and nowhere close to the Famous Five. When you speak, it is perfection, a clear five by five. When I utter, it is nonsense, just empty boloney five. You are love’s very essence, where tender feelings strive I am …
Juicy splashes in my mouth, smooching my palate. Mushy, yielding chunks vying to titillate my taste buds. Mocking my childlike anticipation for the nectar to explode, I swirl the sensation around, a deliciousness raining within me.
You were bad for my health, so I traded being with you for a therapeutic solo trip. Now open bathroom doors are closed. The kitchen faucet on spray mode are now smashed. Now my couch belongs to no one! Crazy eyes for you? No more! Love anthem, broken! Bye, your nonsense I have outrun!
Twilight bleeds into canvas, Five horses from behind the glass frame, strike a chord. Stately, mystical, handsome, like the night. Sure of their footing, banishing all gloom. Bold eyes that meet my own in this still place. A silent summon, inviting my embrace.
I fell for you when you said, “aujourd'hui” I thought you meant ‘O beauty!” How my heart fluttered, how I smiled through lowered eyes! My desires broke into a French cancan And then you said it again, “aujourd’ hui ou demain?” Before I could swoon over that additional compliment, you pulled your phone with the …
prachi jain 