Grown Long

Day 28 NaPoWriMo 2020

(Photo by Aashish Vaidya)

Grown Long

“To make of  the tree a song grown long”
Brahmin invokes slokas and intones long

To which his forefathers took by force,
For which even now he atones long

Miles apart from each other for days
All they can do is stay on the phone long

The lecturer keeps writing on the whiteboard
Losing her students as she drones long

Having ploughed all their savings, they
Are cash-strapped house rich and loan long

It is a ‘Mirage’ to think all your jokes are funny
Don’t you hear heckles and many groans long?

Notes:  Day 28 of NaPoWriMo 2020.  Off-prompt today as it is little easier, and faster for me to use another poet’s line as a starting off point to pen a ghazal.

The first line is from poem “Ode to the Steam Box” is by Matthew Nienow.  The short piece of the poem around the line:

To give // the straight thing curve. // To make of  the tree a song // grown long in a linseed skin,the slick hot strake waiting // to become parcel // of  the round world again.

The poet describes a steam box as one that is “used for bending   frames and planks in traditional boatbuilding.”

Either way, the prompt for today was (something I can try out later):

Today’s (optional) prompt is brought to us by the Emily Dickinson Museum. First, read this brief reminiscence of Emily Dickinson, written by her niece. And now, here is the prompt that the museum suggests:

Martha Dickinson Bianchi’s description of her aunt’s cozy room, scented with hyacinths and a crackling stove, warmly recalls the setting decades later. Describe a bedroom from your past in a series of descriptive paragraphs or a poem. It could be your childhood room, your grandmother’s room, a college dormitory or another significant space from your life.

In Review

Day 27 NaPoWriMo 2020

(Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash)

In Review

The twinkle in those eyes drive me insane, I conclude in review
Between dream and wakefulness, in my bed, I’m glued in review.

A historic question: can forty-three be topped in ineptitude and malice?
Along comes forty-five, surpassing with his turpitude. In review.

Uncertainty is usually beyond control, it’s about unknown unknowns.
Beware of those who do nothing but speak in certitude, in review.

A virus going pandemic may seem like an isolated event, but
plantery interconnectedness makes it a prelude in review.

What could be done differently, what could be said differently,
in silence I do the math, in my head I brood in review.

The flame ignited, burns bright, even as a gust of wind makes it
flicker from time to time. Is this one of those moods in review?

Those who serve on the front line, whether they think it is their jobs,
their duty, their choice, deserve a great deal of gratitude in review.

Your promises are a ‘Mirage’ that play with my emotions
This time is different, I thought, yet you elude in review.

Notes: Day 27 of NaPoWriMo 2020. The prompt for today is:

“…challenge you to write a poem in the form of a review. But not a review of a book or a movie of a restaurant. Instead, I challenge you to write a poetic review of something that isn’t normally reviewed. For example, your mother-in-law, the moon, or the year 2020 (I think many of us have some thoughts on that one!)”

Not entirely on-prompt, as I did not pick a single subject, which usually hard to do when writing a ghazal.  But I did incorporate review as a refrain (radif) weaving into a ghazal and ruminating about many things.  Wrote this in bits and pieces, and unfortunately, without much of a review. So hopefully it is coherent!