City – The passionate learner

Well, I love to travel
And to be more specific,
not every trip is pleasurable
I suppose you agree.
Some offer sweet memories
whereas some very dismal.
Some are bestowed with beauty
whereas some confer only knowledge,
in a journey on a flight or through a voyage.

But, behind every tour
I ought to undertake,
I make sure-
I prepare some time
to jot down what fascinated me,
The Most.
While something queer or
not easily remembered
would effortlessly catch my eye.
There, I would immediately
capture it, nonetheless
for the rest of my journey
it’ll be intriguing me unless
I discover something more exotic.

May it be an amusing show
or an antique piece in a museum
or the authentic food it serves
or the culture it presents
or an animal to illustrate
or a home of an author or
perhaps just a hill or a mountain
or maybe an art or an artist
performing to display,
or a variety of things
even the sky under a shade;
of a city or a village,
every small or big experience
seems very special to that place.

The forming of a bond
while it lasts,
in a photograph or in a memoir
had my musing in-
reminiscing long attachment
to every place I visited
where I chose a special
memory as worthy as I’ve made it:
To cherish for long years as,
an indestructible bond of
solidarity through travelling
from place to place.

Every journey becomes
a tale and in coming years
all the chronicles will turn into
lively motion picture
floating in the waves of ‘life’.
I am yet to be discovering
many unseen-unheard places
To be sure of one thing;
to carry my camera and
a notebook with a pen.
To fulfil every thirst of
making sweet connections
to people and places.

~an impromptu poem for #NaPoWriMo day 30

Prompt Day 30: https://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirty-8/

Today I choose to upload a poem I wrote for https://www.poemsindia.in/napowrimo‘s 11th day prompt : April 11th– “Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.”

Ahh its the end of the marvelous month! Little did we think, how time flew by so quickly, everyone involved in writing and publishing poems on blogs, reading other poet’s musings, complimenting/criticising each other, sharing and encouraging their fellow participants everyday, on every amazing prompt by Maureen and and yet we are here on the last day. Thank you M aureen for having to organise an excellent event for a month and for gathering such a great audience, most beloved bloggers and poets from all over the globe and thank you for giving us this opportunity to meet these incredibly talented bunch of individuals! This was my first time and I have to say it was such a fun! To be honest I missed the first three days in the beginning of the month LOL but since the 4th day it was all like a responsibility, to wake up in the morning to check the website for the new prompt and later post a poem at the end of the day, a challenge we all did successfully I guess! Going to miss all of my fellow participants a.k.a all-time-supporters but hope we’ll meet next year on the same platform for spending another amazing, memorable time letting our creative juice flow into our masterpieces! Love you all, sending best wishes for the year ahead.

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/