Posted in #NaPoWriMo

“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 22nd 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.

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.🌱🌏✨

Posted in #NaPoWriMo

“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.

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.

Vincent van Gogh
Oil on canvas
92.1 cm × 73 cm (36.3 in × 29 in)
National GalleryLondon