DU Official NaPoWriMo Challenge

27 of 30


splintered


{recognizing the difference
between one another
...was a moment most enlightening}

she told us we were reflections
each mirroring the other
externally similar...internally reversed
nuances buried within
she of air...I grounded in earth
...complicated sisters

I didn't understand her then
that bangled lady who did our reading
beads rattling whenever she moved
but many years have since flowed
like water under a bridge
ever changing in its constance

wavering & distorted
images are hidden
reflecting nothing solid
while currents push & pull
a kaleidoscope of fragments only

at last the surface has cleared
& I think I can finally see
we are emotion personified
...she & me...
it rules our movement
as surely as the tides

it's also in this we greatly differ
where she gives hers free rein
lashing outward with her pain
I turn mine inward
slashing beneath my own inner skin

where she stands defiant
shoving her way through a crowd
I hang back...deliberate
then move with fluidity
allowing waves to carry me along

she is fierce in self protection
having been incomplete since the womb
twin lost before birth...forced to arrive alone
her spirit is an eternal wound
building walls around herself
...trying to cover the loss

I am the peacekeeper
soothing every ripple
before it has time to build momentum
calming troubled waters
...by swallowing the hurt
I know no other way to navigate my landscape

I often ponder...
how strong & unstoppable we could be
...invincible siblings...
if only I was more like her...
& she were more like me

but we grew...
following alternate routes
until that day...
a random conversation with a stranger
& she showed us unexpected truth
as side by side...
we sat huddled
separately together

27/30

where do stars go to sleep?


i oft wonder
where do stars slumber?
as soon as dawn
smudges the darkness,
the shimmering dots fade away
...fade into the sun's
golden beams-
a water of dreams it is,
where the twinkling gems
submerge
deep within its sea;
mirroring the heavens,
this blue ocean
is where these glowworms
turn into starfish.
they rest at the bottom
of the surreal world
until the skies
turn back
to bewitching black,
waking up the
mystical sparkles
from their sweet sleep;
flowering into a starry night
the cosmos captivates
its beholders
with its beauty
...mystique

27/30


Last Day


Today is the sixth and my last day
Of fasting for the month of Shawwal
A Sunnah fast for completing the days of fasting in Ramadan
After breaking my fast early this evening
I went to the Capitol hills to unwind

I invited my nephews to come to the Capitol
And we had some snacks of local street foods and soda
It is one of the tourist spots here
Where locals go to for evening walks and unwind

The view is spectacular at night
And many people come to relax
And enjoy the view of the town from the top of the Capitol hills
At day time the Capitol can be seen from the neighboring Islands
As it sits atop the hill
Overlooking the town and the sea
It is a majestic sight with the view of
Bud Bongao at the back

27/30

The Power of Batman

Wishes feel like hope washed adrift
While sand reminds me of life’s oddity

Oh pleasantries will always rule
The void of meaning slips farther away

The relief of knowing the few who help
Leave me feeling grateful and anxious

Knowing they’ll be obligatory payback
I accept the extended hand cautiously

Where is my super hero when in need
Who fights my battle and silently leaves

No thanks or favors asked or expected
I need that masked man

64 uw

27/30

Grey Moodiness

It's grey today outside
It matches my somber mood
With feelings of melancholy, I feel weighed down

You would think the rain would signify cleansing to me
And the raindrops by themselves would
It's the grey depression I can't take
weeks that drag on under a haze

It's dreary, and my emotions grow dark
No one seems to visit on days like today
People similar to me are in a funk

depression is like big fluffy clouds
that cause a fog in my mind
oppressed, I struggle on
pushing myself to accomplish something, anything

It's quiet here on the ranch
And most days that's nice
But when charcoal highlights everything
It looks menacing, my garden of dreams

The orchard, so inviting, closes in on me
And I get lost among the trees
Where fear settles in, anyone could be lurking
Such a day to die

#27/30

It’s okay to {not} call it God

This mystery
 without beginning or end or dimension
   which surpasses our time-bound, embodied understanding –
Explain it however you must:
 with the logic of your mind
   or the intuition of your heart –
as long as you never presume
  certainty.

Embrace the miracles –
 sunlight to sugar,
   water to wine
Stardust or holy breath –
 whatever helps you grasp
   the wonder of creativity
Whether it’s that
 big gang bang of the spirit in a virgin’s womb
   or an atomic dance from the mouth of a lion;
what ultimately matters is that you’re
 open
   to
     astonishment
that you sit at the edge of the veil and
 listen to the whispers
   that speak the abundance of love;
through sacrificial blood
through mycelial networks
through enlightenment beneath a tree...

Tell the stories that keep wonder alive in you
 and let others tell theirs
   I don’t care where (or if) they’re written.
Go ahead and lean on your own understanding,
 realizing it can only take you so far

You can call it by any name
as long as you know
that harmony is real,
and you sing a part in it.

#27

~a dialoguing duet of love... of him & her
         (an inspired lyrical)



this young girl’s infinitely flowing drape, her
saree.. is a golden magnolia.. a champak
flowering garden… in a scented silken weave

drawing me unto her blooming heart… though
in a bittersweet conflict, I say her to find her way
away from me, leaving her deterministic love.. as
the chasing reality I am in the run… will repel her

she the simplistic rustic beauty as a golden
peacock in the coyly shying smiles… offers
her hands as an embracing heart... to draw
me unto them… as a liberation in love... throwing
away my worldly warring worries  & imprisoning
hesitations..

her singing heart & sculpted cheeks in a dimpling
motion... of a deep digging romanticism... follows
me ardently… with her flowing long golden woven
silken saree of a Champak flowering gardens

I am a wayward river already lost of its ways... I say
the maddening her in love... to not be in the instinctive
running behind me, who knows not where to go…

she calmly yet befittingly says me in metaphors...  as
when a springing new gushing riverine waters of her...
gushes natural in a fusional gravity flows… why talk
or question of the pathway… when she flows as a wild
wind in the blowing… where are the limiting boundaries
of any directions or nations…

I plead her to better latch her uncontrollably booming
heart of love... & not to give in to the playful games..
of her wholly drowning naivety heart of exuberance


I convince her... her lusting desire, this love… she
has for me… is not even wrong, but this me is like
a nestless Koel in the cuckooing, who doesn’t even
have a branch to rely upon…

"holy yellow threaded golden chain... for our sooner
wedding",  she says... she still carries it in a tied corner
of her flowing saree, her this golden Champak garden that
it is... hidden in the careful carrying this wedding chain, in
her unshakeable trust on me, on my~our love..

no offending her.. I say, but when there is no roof over this
on-the run, an outcast of a Robinhood me of the forests…
a wishful season of our garlanding, how can this be in any
reasoning...  not justified it is I say her again, if she is ever
in this wishful living with me, when I don’t even own a mat…

don’t be in a wasted whining calls… she declares to me
so strongly in love... says me to end my repetitive worrying...
undeniably she says, that she will come home to me, "pink
panneer roses of the holy intoxicating Damascus... I would
wear on her so sooner..."




*unique words: 229

27 of 30

Root Cause


Have you ever gone mining for a tree?
I have.
Swinging and chopping'
hacking and whacking,
at stubborn tree roots.
Roots buried beneath the earth,
roots that stretched and sought out moisture,
roots that are strong from fertile soil,
roots as strong as stone.
Rotos that I have to hack and attack
so that they yield from the earth
and to be removed from a hole,
because the tree above is gone,
in order to cultivate a garden.

(Unique Words: 50)

27/30

Thoughts at Your Funeral

It’s hard to let go
But something seems welcoming about the inevitable
As if the release will end the pain
Or at least make sense after departure

Maybe we try to answer those questions
To have some closure
But we don’t really get everything we want out of life
Perhaps in death
Does reflection lend a hand
In becoming enlightened about all the mystery


54 Unique
64 Total

27/30

Limeraiku/ Haikerick

i
I once had a friend
named Carol, who tried to roll
over a barrel.

ii
At the end of a very long day,
consider the stars far away.
They declare their existence;
from mind-boggling distance,
their light shines with years-long delay.

iii
The thing we all love
about Jerry is that he
always seems merry.

iv
It's fine that my readers might wonder
if those things are linked, or a blunder?
The answer is just
that the word count's a must
and today's thoughts came in at just under!

28/30

choker

Poetry died
the day you left me:
you robbed me of
all my beautiful words
and lavished them
on some pretty girl.

You decorated her
with the stolen verses
that my heart
had sung for you.

Now all I do is paint-
paint myself with tears;
even the color is pale-
artless work on a broken canvas.

Why don't you take away
my pearly tear drops:
string them together
to make a choker;
a souvenir-
to gift her
when you choke her heart too!

.

27 of 30

Awake

Is place,
A part of pattern?
Or can what I feel,
What I see,
Be both,
Simultaneous,
And irrespectively,
Separate?..
Devoid,
Of where I sit?
In the void,
Of this mental state?
In part conflict and,
Departed possession.
In heart,
Hope,
For some other,
Direction.
The binding of inanimate dreams,
The tangible,
Symbology,
Of retold,
Stories.
Their reluctance knows,
My reluctance,
To face that final sleep,
And leave,
The confines of what we know, restricts.
To awake,
Upon a life,
Untold and unwritten,
Awake,
Upon a life as yet,
Small enough to hold,
But,
Whole enough,
To grow.

#26

New York City

Stop and go
Was our flow
Driving into New York City

We saw the lights
And danced all night
And watched the Book of Mormon

Reconnected with a cousin
I hadn’t seen in years
She showed us the local dives

New York City what a wonder
Wind tossed and sun kissed
If only everyday was like this

For now we head south

#27

The Road to Philadelphia

We drive into the setting sun
Wondering what the night might have in store
Heading south to Philadelphia
Chain smoking along the way
Traffic is light just like our hearts
The trees get greener with every mile
And the temperature rises
We thaw out from the long Canadian winter
Soaking up the sun
Gaining miles
Making memories
A road trip to remember


*posting late due to travel & no service

27/30

A Prayer to the Muse

I chase her fleeting presence every night
and sometimes look for her in light of day.
Her lovely face is always in my thoughts,
the sway of hips will often cross my mind.
She chooses those who offer up their pens
for stories she will pour into their soul.
Ephemeral, her glimmers proffer light
to those who tell of life and all its glories.
I hold my pen and sacrifice my thoughts
in hopes she calms the swirl inside my head.
I pray my humble words suffice and please,
but I am just a girl who likes to rhyme.
    Kalliope, dear mistress of my art,
    I beg of you to consecrate my heart.

27/30

iii  

Springtime
                           Adolescence

Gangly, angular
 protruding buds of leaf
unfurling from warmth
 of the sun, thickening
stem, expanding

with the weight of growth
 prickly hairs, glistening
with morning moisture
  their condensation
running as streams

 toward an ocean of earth
welcoming the film
 of precipitation, absorbing
droplets before a zephyr
 claims its evaporation rites

We pause. We, onlookers
 of beauty’s formation, play
the guessing game of color
 and aroma not yet released
We, patiently waiting

upon the fruition of youth

. . .