Even for an hour

Day 6 of NaPoWriMo 2020

(Photo by Aashish Vaidya. Cherry Blossoms)


Even for an hour


“Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because”
Every corner of the world, I’ll scour because


Little squares of anguish wash over me, even
for a moment I see your face sour, because


Remember – to err is human to forgive divine
Next time your mood’s dour, because


Sycophants and bootlickers stroke bully’s
ego. Without dignity they cower, because?


Sitting, staring at the screen, whole day without
Moving.  Now spin hard with power, because


The only little people are those who enrich themselves
A tiny human act towers over power, because


Tossed salad of kale, pine nuts, feta, red onion,
Olive oil, lemon juice, roasted cauliflower, because


What lulls us into thinking all this isn’t fleeting?
We nurture this ‘Mirage’ of sunflower, because….


Notes:  Penned an off-prompt ghazal, as ran short of time to explore Day 6 of NaPoWriMo 2020.  The prompt was to “write a poem from the point of view of one person/animal/thing from Hieronymous Bosch’s famous (and famously bizarre) triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights.”  Will have to revisit it some other time.


First line is a line from of Pablo Neruda’s Love Sonnet: XLV from his volume 100 Love Sonnets translated by Stephen Tapscott.  I liked this line, and I am hoping the reader does as well. That line propelled the rest of the ghazal, with some open-ended couplets because (ha,ha) of the refrain.


Turmeric Latte

Day 5 of NaPoWriMo 2020

Photo by Osha Key on Unsplash

Tumeric Latte

His utterances, are more palimpsest of colors than the layers of onions
It can have you scratching your head for days if not weeks
They are like some poor sap reacting to their first sip of turmeric latte
The yellow feeling like hardness of fingers.

Much like Juan Johnson’s experience in Three Vices Cafe on Hawthorne Boulevard-
The warm turmeric latte goes down smoothly relieving his sore throat.
Did I tell you about this Yogi who didn’t know the first thing about Yoga?
He’d say if you speak in a slight accent and if you get your head-bobbing down, the dhakkans (1) will believe anything you say.  Inevitably.

Inevitably, like every time my sprinklers come on, it rains.
Like two mushes in a jam jar end up in a rub a dub dub to slough off coupla’ pints and polish off some ruby murray (2).  Inevitably.

Admittedly, an indolent lifestyle is so so blissful –
Kind of like a blazing bonfire cooling you as if it is a summer breeze.
A moment like this you remember that one of many qualities of Juan Johnson is he can spit fire after drinking turmeric latte.  True.
True, like our name isn’t Aviator.

I will be readying my Yoga studio within a fortnight, with certainty.  Just like my friend, Miriam, who on a mere mention, will show you her effluvious emerald necklace.
Whoever said cutting off a mule’s ear makes him a horse is so right.
Though, I don’t want to end up like that forlorn-ed guy, who said:
Ham to tumhari yaad mein sub kuchh bhula chuke (3)
Upon which even the agra marble table top cried tears of sympathy.

“Sitting in a sukhasana (4), spill turmeric latte on the palimpsest.  Then randomly, but gently, scratch small sections, with a penny.


  1. Dhakkanliterally a lid in Hindi.  Pejoratively it means “dumbass”.
  2. Admittedly, I have never heard this cockney sentence.  But if the intertubes are to be believed – mush means friend.  Jam jar is a motor car.  Rub a dub dub is a pub.  Ruby murray or just simply ruby is curry.
  3.  Second line of a couplet by Hindi/Urdu poet Ibrahim Zauq:

Tum bhuul kar bhi yaad nahi karte ho kabhi

Ham to tumhari yaad mein sub kuchh bhula chuke.

Which roughly translated means:

There you are, seldom do you have recollection of me

Here I am, who in your memory, has forgotten everything else.

4. Sukhasana the easy pose

Day 5 of NaPoWriMo 2020.  The prompt is a list of 20 things to do in a poem.  I think I hit them all, but I am not sure how it turned out.