As the country got locked down to curb down the pandemic of COVID-19, I decided to focus on fixing the routine of writing poetry. Continuous encouragement and sharing is one way to motivate ourselves to fix the routines.
Thanks to an Instagram friend, Shivani Sharma, an admirer of sunny days, blue skies and reflective poetry. Both of us decided to write a poem every day for 7 days and share it with each other.
We need to write poem instinctively, without rewriting it. We can write a poem on anything. With few do’s and do not’s we started scribbling and sharing the poems.
Decided to write upon anything, both of us wrote poems instinctively.
Upon the slowest noon,
in this season of quarantine,
While you are still stuck
Why don't you listen to your
I let my mind wander
I let my mind surrender
surrendering myself to
redeem my shower thoughts
Thoughts, I never thought of
Thoughts I forgot to thought about
I chose the color of the day
To celebrate everything
The spring, sky, silver moon
and hopeful ray.
Only Sun is making the day
now, they say.
Why don't you listen to
the unheard song while
Cages like a fee bird.
This time in my read,
in my room, in my house
Should I call it a self-chosen
Solitude or a desperate measure?
Distancing myself and revising;
Old times - I choose a nook
in the room far from this
Loving this cozy insularity of
being confined in a space
where hustle is like privilege
yet it hardly fancies me
This day feels like month of July,
I am re-reading the poem,
The poem, I read two minutes ago.
Caging like a free bird but
times moves slowly live I've been
_______Sky Blue Sky______
Quarantined sky jazzing up
the spirit of
Every shade of self- isolated
Breezy, tangerine, purple, blue or Balmy;
appeals the finest palette
nature can ever have.
Though hardly lonely or hustle free as the passer-by
are out there; flying
but this time human-distancing got sky blue colours of the sky.
The pain and the agony
of this world starts
and ends with the fake
mask of utopian space
seeking goodness and grace
In everything we later to
choose the ugly realities
Letting go of the travesty and
sorrows like scrolling the
feeds of some social app
We refrain to address the
privilege and whine about
about question of existence;
While someone out there is
actually answering the question
We cry about eh commoners
of the space we are raving
While someone out there is
happy about the street light
making night less dark!
Humans have a knack of rebellion struggling with the thought of getting caged at first, now submitting and adapting to mundanities of isolation. We, humans keep chasing comfort in every hopeless situation, even when our brains are protesting we seek perspective to the conflict of ultimately settles on almost every altered space of mind.
What will happen if we become so stoic to change? Will, it makes us dull and stagnated living being or will it make strong and resilient to every pain of adaptation and fitting in the theory of Darwin'? Guess we will lose the thrill of sanity and there exists the social boredom blocking the thoughts about everything maybe, we need change and every aspect of it should be experienced.
______Who are we?_____
Who we are?
In this moment of
Who are we?
Scared of questions or
justing missing the mayhem
used to depress us on
Suddenly we are out of
whinings of this world.
settling for the few of
Who are we?
Wanting to live every second
yet waiting to pass every
Hoping directionless about
tiniest possibilities of happy noise
Buffering everything and
Do we have a knack of
unaddressing the things,
we should be grateful for
suddenly unplanning everything
Who are we now?
_______I thought of_______
I stared at the sky streaked with the great patches of crimson of gold, the morning glory looks the same. Each and everyday yet we are day and every day and a year old every year, Hysteric, I find it, how everything is the same and old and we are changing every day
It is the same old breeze with the suggestion of changing times, glancing her-curiously from the window, witnessing the chirping of the birds, rustle of the leaves I forgot to clean and the sigh of the wind. Everything looked the same but changed.
Stuttering frights of brains dragging me to the field of avoided confrontations. The thought where I whined about eh crowded place, where I longed for the silent space, crazy how guilty I craved for the happy chaos right now.
_____Nothing to write____
So much is running in head
how do I pen it down
fleeting thoughts; preserving judgments
and still, I have
nothing to write
How do I pen down the chaos
Of unsettling anxieties that hovers in mind and disturbing
the process of thinking about
I do not have the audacity to
address the things running
in my brain, maybe it is rightly said;
You cannot address the thought
you are feeling with intensity,
Maybe you have to think and
not feel, to write it in
Maybe, I cannot think and
I am just feeling
How do I pen it here?
The river blushed to the sun's light
It danced to the wind's tunes
As I stand by, watching it swell
I dived into my destination dreams
Nearing the shore
In a trice, as sun rays sliced the darkness
I'm here. At the shore
Living my dream.
'Be Intentional' said, my friend.
I did not understand then.
Watching the world in catastrophe and watching myself over
my thoughts revealed what being intentional means.
'We love the world.' 'We loved to help.' screamed voices, programmed to affirm themselves in the bubble they created destructing the world in various ways.
'You're no good.' said my inner voice pushing me to introspect.
Do we distance ourselves in this world merely talking about being connected?
Do we give away things, rooted to the egoism we've created
Do we give and take, in humility, helping each other, co-existing in this world.
The answers displayed seemed myriad.
'Be intentional' said, my friend
For only one knows what they intend and act.
Let my thoughts be with the world
The world that is in adversity.
May the peace prevail in every life.
___ The View_____
Fly landed on the pages
Flattering its wings
The Sun flushed the shine into the room
I sat up, being still, watching the fly
The Sunshine gleamed on to the marble stone
The clear sky signaled for a sunny day
I waited. I watched. And the fly flew away.
Flew away out of my sight
But left me with a lot of insights.
The world is not what you see
Sunk under the sea of self-doubt
The pen didn't move further
Spent nights staring at me
Questioning my worth to write a word.
I looked around and I had none.
I had none to say, 'I'm shit,' except me.
'Be okay,' with what you are,' I told myself.
Sinking under the sea of self-doubt
Settling to be whoever I am.
I waded through words, writing on by one.
Dealing to dabble, what's there to lose
'I'm okay with myself' and I wrote more.
Revisiting the old drafts, I realized
"I wrote some good words' I told myself.
Doubting over the 'self' and time passed between 'shit' and 'good'
I decided to dabble, no matter how I wrote.
Sailing over the doubts and devil self, I dabbled.
Word dear, I'm here!!
Nothing in the real world is as true as the delusions of a person
Who is out of the real world.
He lives in his own cave ignorant of what's out there.
And dismayed to witness what he sees out in the real world.
Does he know that the flower blossoms at the shambles?
Does he know that balmy & bereavement weather co-exist?
'The world has it all. Wait and watch,' said the voices.
If only the person is willing to wait and watch.