“Fairies, Dream and Spiritual Awakening!”

Not many nights have passed,
I experienced a spiritual awakening
in the middle of a night.
My senses have gone,
feeling all numb, I enter into
a different world, unknown to me.
Hearing some intermittent flapping sound,
my sleeping brain cells woke up, perturbed.
As I opened my eyes, everything luminous, glittery.
I found myself laid in a large wild flower, kindled!
I saw dazzling little figures fluttering tiny wings
pouring shimmering fluid of crystals over me.
I saw beautiful fairies smiling, dancing in joy,
some seated in each petal of the flower
as if they were waiting for me, all brightly ecstatic.
I return my look towards my body,
to my surprise, I saw myself in a white dress
sparkling in a refined way, charming and lovely!
I was confused as to why, where and how
did I landed here?
One of those elegant white fairy whispered in my ear…
“You’re in your awakening process, darling!
Trust the process, it is the world of enlightenment!
You’re blessed with magic and power!”
I wandered around every corner conceit
of my abilities and finally back to the wild flower
closing my eyes again to obtain enlightenment.
They said my spiritual energies were strong
for spiritual alignment and suddenly I woke up.
I woke up to actually find my eyes opened and
remain wondering if it was true and real..
Resplendent Fairies spinning around my body
in a mysterious world of enchantment!
The unreal fantasy, eclectic holy dreamland,
glittery illusion, supernatural creatures, indeed ethereal.
I wanted to go back to the mystical fairy tale dream
Until I realized, I was delusional, living in illusion
of my own. Entangled, whirled, drowned into spirituality.
For I have been habitually seeing angel numbers
from past few months and its obvious
that my guardian angels have been trying
to convey a special message to me!
“Oh dear fairies, teleport me to your land
as I never wish to exist here. I belong to the fairy land.”

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 25

Prompt Day 25: Today’s (optional) prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing! https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five-8/

✨✨11:11✨✨

You have come across repeated numbers and I’m sure you have heard of numerology and angel numbers?? Is it really coincidence that you caught up with such numbers in a day, or maybe daily??

My poem doesn’t really take a form of aisling poems but here’s a thing, since I have encountered a supernatural dream and I was dying to tell someone about, I expressed it here… Its like really in a dream, where I teleported myself into an magical place and that I have been seeing repeated numbers/ angel numbers as they say the spirit angels tries to connect with the individual by showing spiritual numbers and they provide guidance, protection and awareness about the individual and the environment they are living in. Oh and I have been into spirituality actually! Its really empowering, ignites the very presence of your true self, hypnotic and spellbinding… If you do manifestations on a regular basis or believe in affirmations and stuff you’ll know how uplifting it is to feel and absorb positive energies, cleaning your aura and aligning in a higher frequency with your higher self. It is indeed fascinating! Try out if you haven’t..

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“Enormity of War Crimes”

Gunshots echoed
Smoke knocked down the air, overcast day.
A blood-shed bed dispersed
over miles and miles until it all sounded anomaly.
A city bathed in red,
Blood dripping pieces of flesh strewed,
drenched in cold.
Defeat mounted inchmeal;
arrived in the doorstep of the country, turning into turmoil.
Escape to nowhither,
not from their dear homes, whilst
countless civilians are slaughtered ceaselessly by professed ruthless saints.
Callous inhumanity shattered in every corner of the country
dreaded in terror, uncalled tragedy
leaving into helplessness, vulnerability.
And they would flee, hands cleaned.
Who would measure the analogy between corrupt civilization
to the illusive metaphors of enormity in these War Crimes?
Reconciling often leaves imbrued in a slew of misdemeanors.
Never forgiven, never forgotten.
Thus surviving the vale of tears, impassive and aloof
withstanding from the bitterness plagued amongst them already, is hard.
Burning anger, hunger for reprisal would weaken their innocent hearts
despite they’d respire in the city of envenom rivals painted their streets red.
Enormity of war crimes digging to reach abyss, rotted in hell, crumbled into dust.

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 24

Prompt Day 24: Hard-boiled detective novels are known for their use of vivid similes, often with an ironic or sarcastic tone. Novelist Raymond Chandler is particularly adept at these. Here are a few from his novels:

• A few locks of dry, white hair clung to his scalp, like wild flowers fighting for life on a bare rock.
• Dead men are heavier than broken hearts.
• From 30 feet away she looked like a lot of class. From 10 feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from 30 feet away.
• She smelled the way the Taj Mahal looks by moonlight.
• He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food.

Today, I’d like to challenge you to channel your inner gumshoe, and write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . as dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-four-8/

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“Parallel Universe”

I want to be armoured
around those cozy arms.
To feel the warmth and
a chance to be in love
again. Touch and feel,
desire to belong
someone’s someone,
feeling is back again.
Long time, hues of
numbness heard
lots of sorrows lamenting.
Guard the pillars of
my weakness and shield
them with thy strength.
A fraction of fiction
gives birth to ample
of hope. It seems
I can’t cope. Defy me
with faithless insight of
love and I won’t die again,
not at least in parallel universe.

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 23

Prompt Day 23: Today I’d like to challenge you to write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan, whose poems tend to be short and snappy – with a lot of rhyme and soundplay. They also have a deceptive simplicity about them, like proverbs or aphorisms. Once you’ve read a few, you’ll see what I mean. Here’s her “Token Loss,” “Blue China Doorknob,” “Houdini,” and “Crustacean Island.” https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-three-8/

Love Parallel Universe things. Unreal, hunger of hope fulfilment, achievement for longing dreams and wishes, uncovering unjust opinions or actions, where unrealistic expectations come true, discovering new paths to enhance better and deserving life, occurrence of fortuitous things undefined by time and actions, just everything happening just the way we wish no matter how much wrong or unlawful it seems. So according to what one thinks can happen easily? The hypothetical self-contained plane of existence is living in our unconscious mind perhaps and if we ever find the existence of multiverse, then all are answers would be accessible retrieving a way to our unconscious mind. Well that’s just what I think. lol! Nevermind. Hope you enjoyed today’s prompt based poem! Love you all… Feel free to comment down there…

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“Mother Earth will transform into a Purgatory one day”

Mother Earth, Mother Earth.
Hold on, stay grounded to our soil.
Owner of bounty tides of riches and assets.
We may never stop quenching on your wealth.
Forgive us, for we are accountable for a huge debt
we may never pay off adequately.
We adore your earthy quintessential jewels, dear Mother.
Vibrant colours, vivid resources,
lucid flow of air, scintillating waterfalls,
dewbows on blades of grass, countless unexplored terrain.
We know you good for our health and we bad for yours.
Charge us penalty for the dirty ill-doings.
Tie our feet as roots into your soil,
Hold our arms firmly screwed to your trunk,
Hang our limbs as branches floating in air.
Throw storms and worst catastrophes,
and punish us as much as you want.
We shall suffer and repay the debts.
Mother Earth, Mother Earth
We seek penance for the disasters.
Do no more pity, retaliate back only!

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 22

Prompt Day 22:  In honor of today’s being the 22^nd day of Na/GloPoWriMo 2022, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of things. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-two-8/

Running out of time and last minute hasty attempt on the prompt, well its The Earth Day so yeah Happy Earth Day! Lets make our planet more clean and green.🌱🌏✨

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“You Are A Piece Of Art”

You broke the void inside me.
You taught me belongingness.
You turned me into someone like you.
Your stunning gaze edified my minor mistakes.
Your presence invited my inner child to get blossomed.
Your cheerfulness helped your favorite playful little girl to grow,
To grow and become one like you, the most lovable person I have known, mother.
I miss You.
*
Are my colleagues still working on the project that I initiated one day?
Do they remember me?
Weren’t they all a part of the hard-working family we had built over time?
All supportive, all indefatigable, all diligent.
Aren’t they all proud to become a part of the community that I’ve established?
They are of course, mom said they are gratified, they are the sunflowers in your life.
I love my crew, I love what I’ve created, I love the way people appreciated my team.
I miss my organisation.
*
I remember one fine summer day, while coming across a main street, with my mother,
A street-seller selling paintings, the greatest artworks, historic masterpieces.
Oil paintings slanting in the guard railing spread across covering the pavement.
I passed through those, my feet quickly paused, I turned around, glanced at one piece.
Dazzled under sunlight, bright and gleaming sunflowers’ portrait starring at me.
The artwork immediately captivated my attention, I went near, perused into few letters.
The seller simplified the illustration of the glorious piece by Vincent Van Gogh.
Moreover, it all tempted me so much when he said it was painted by his daughter.
*
How I remember my mother loved sunflowers.
How I remember planning to gift her Van Gogh’s “Vase with Fifteen Sunflowers”
still life art by her favorite artist on her 50th birthday.
Only if it was a dream-come-true wish.
I miss her, but her words reminded me of this piece of memory,
I shared today, in her absence, in my prayer.
Her last words only prompted me to contemplate:
Am I truly “A Piece Of Art?”

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 21

Prompt Day 21:  Today’s prompt asks you to write a poem in which you first recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with, then a job you used to have but no longer do, and then a piece of art that you saw once and that has stuck with you over time. Finally, close the poem with an unanswerable question. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-one-7/

I believe the poem speaks it all. Everything is related, starting from my mother’s part to the conclusion, ending with her itself. I had to weave a poem of four parts so precisely yet so delicately that I got emotional while writing and sunflowers are always adored by everyone, and so do I and my mother. But she would be encouraging me so much that I feel guilty about the fact that I couldn’t do much for her and she has bought so many things for me, she gifted me this wonderful life and now that I have to move on without her, it hurts, always will. The pain will never fade away, I’ll be grieving for the rest of my life, carrying memories down the lane, cherishing each day with fresh sunflowers and missing her, the incomplete project and questioning my existence.

STILL LIFE: “VASE WITH FIFTEEN SUNFLOWERS” OIL PAINTING
Artist
Vincent van Gogh
Year
1888
Medium
Oil on canvas
Dimensions
92.1 cm × 73 cm (36.3 in × 29 in)
Location
National Gallery, London

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“Frozen Dessert: mint chocolate chip ice-cream”

They say you smell like peppermint
Oh ’tis the key flavor of my essence.
But why’d one argue about that?
Cause it tastes gross!
Jesus, that’s an unpardonable accusation!
Fresh Peppermint with chocolate chip
in an ice-cream??
Why does such combo exists?
How can’t one see:
I’m made up of an organic product.
Isn’t that intriguing, uh?
Not at all.
And so is strawberry ice-cream!
Bet, none of them are as cool as me huh..
Alright, I doubt that now.
I’m already cold in the freezer
And my lavish chill mint flavor relishes on
every tongue, they call it frozen dessert.
Rich in mint green will devour your eyes.
Have me with great pleasure and delight.

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 20

Prompt Day 20: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it? https://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-9/

Hello folks! My poem is about an ice-cream flavor with whom I share a love-hate relationship: the mint chocolate chip ice-cream lol. So as the prompt states “anthropomorphizes“, I chose to sign up for an argument with the flavor itself, in a humorous way through it. I like all kinds of cookies or cake other than the mint flavor, and an exception as frozen dessert though. Most of my friends hates it, like eww they say. But I felt it was a very odd flavor as mint is often used in various food products especially chewing gum and as far as I remember the oldest yet popular chewing gum were Chlormint and mentos and now we have tons of such different products issued by latest brands, like happydent, orbit, doublemint, trident etc. and most fluid medicines uses mint flavor honestly that apparently disgusts me but isn’t it phenomenal after you have the ice-cream, not once, thrice. I’m sure you’ll feel the delight. My poem urges you to devour and explore on this flavor in more food items and yep read, taste it and let me know if you like the flavor or not!?

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“What if I was a shadow?”

What if I said I was merely a shadow?
Shh, quietly sleeping under your pillow!
And diffusing into what you’re dreaming.
Following you while you’d be sneaking.
I’m your secret pal & whoa you can’t hide from me, bingo!

~an impromptu poem (limerick) for #NaPoWriMo day 19

Prompt Day 19: Today’s challenge is to write a poem that starts with a command. It could be as uncomplicated as “Look,” as plaintive as “Come back,” or as silly as “Don’t you even think about putting that hot sauce in your hair.” Whatever command you choose, I hope you have fun ordering your readers around. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nineteen-7/

I wrote a limerick today in great delight! My limerick doesn’t follow the syllable pattern rather focused on the rhyme scheme. Hope you like it<3

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“Healing yet Hurting”

Five answers to the same question (as the prompt suggests) in the form of poem (I’ve chosen haiku for the same).

I
I’m sure it won’t hurt
You’re poised to reap what’ve sowed.
Acknowledge perhaps.

II
Ask yourself questions
If this is what you’ve asked for?
Or did you deserved.

III
Mourning in silence
Only to stifle the pain?
Sure not wise enough.

IV
Dawning of changes
Hiding or running away?
Call it to quit hereafter.

V
You’re not alone
Nothingness can’t hide itself
The void will pass anon.

~an impromptu poem (in haiku form) for #NaPoWriMo day 18

Prompt Day 18: Today’s prompt is based on Faisal Mohyuddin’s poem “Five Answers to the Same Question.” Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own poem that provides five answers to the same question – without ever specifically identifying the question that is being answered. https://www.napowrimo.net/day-eighteen-8/

I’m so proud how it turned out into really one of my favourite piece now! Clearly it says it all… Hiding, escaping, isolating, running away, grieving, acknowledging, facing consequences, suffering, hurting and also healing. These are some of the things we all commit to in the course of life yet some of these emotions and actions get attached and do not try to leave easily and it is painful yes, but overcoming these might feel like dashing into freedom. We always want joy and smiles everywhere but some smiles are just unwell pretense to some tragic situations one might have faced and are undeniably the crestfallen part of life. Still, life goes and on and on and we need to go on and on.

Damnn this is a moment of fulfilment. Hope you like it as well!

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“Tongues Of Light Touches Everything”

The realms of earth.
The planets and universe.
The very component of photosynthesis.
The vital source of natural medicine; Vitamin D.
The cause and effect of reflection.
The blessing for the two pair of eyes.
The sprinkling sign for positivity and hope.
The reason of waking up and watching sunrise.
The indispensable root of existence.
To all, wide and whole.
Tongues of light
Touches everything,
Tastes the very essence, of soil and dust diffused in air.

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 17

Prompt Day 17: Tongues of Light https://www.poemsindia.in/napowrimo

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“a glittery revelation”

Revolting, as the eyes might bear resemblance to his distinctive veiled feeling
Often masked with a charming delicate smile, he lives in despondence, went astray.
Melancholy for his deserted feelings, lovelorn however the truth it conceals.
Yet he never fails to carry out the responsibilities, perhaps it has been noticing,
Clearly discreet to some. And for some, customs are build upon fate, fortune as it say.
Like the King, regardless of his potential, ascendancy of ancestry is a true convention.
Not everybody is taught to have such great standards and still cannot become a whizz.
The statement carried tons of unanswered questions, sounded iffy, resonated, all day.
It all seem empty, plight surrounding the very household quietly curbed out in a week,
Since the dark clouds hovering over the town saw little rays of hope. As clear as it is.
Tough choice, but kudos to a great decision, oblique.

~an impromptu poem (curtal sonnet) for #NaPoWriMo day 16

Prompt Day 16: Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a curtal sonnet. This is a variation on the classic 14-line sonnet. The curtal sonnet form was developed by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and he used it for what is probably his most famous poem, “Pied Beauty.” A curtal sonnet has eleven lines, instead of the usual fourteen, and the last line is shorter than the ten that precede it. Here are two other examples of Hopkins’ curtal sonnets: “Ash Boughs,” and “Peace.” https://www.napowrimo.net/day-sixteen-9/

This is my first try on the curtal sonnet, very interesting as it sounds and definitely I tried to follow the rhyme scheme and stumbled a little, although it was fun. The poem is an excerpt of one of my long tale written in a poetic way however I managed to modify a little just to match the rhyme scheme. It talks about a royal engagement and how the prince gets rejected several times until he finds his match. It is all about judgmental behavior of the town and how one individual is expected to carry out the same duties and is expected to behave the same like carrying the tradition of their ancestors. Certainly, one could make out taking a note from my poem. I will try to upload the entire poem later. Hope you’ll enjoy!

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