NaPoWriMo #30
Poetry form: Traditional Cinquain

afternoon in
bed, quietly vacant
mind, quite a serene time doing

Image Credit: Mood – Home by Dora Vincze



NaPoWriMo #29
Poetry form: Free Verse

I have learned the importance
of self-care in my darkest moments.

I have learned not to chide myself
for the past I have left behind.
I have taught myself not to belittle
the seemingly insignificant ways
I take care of myself every day.

My body that continues
working, every cog turning,
no matter how I am feeling
fills me with wonder.

My mind, a juggernaut,
surprises me every time
with its resilience.

So I do all I can
to make myself feel better.
I try to take care of things now
so I am not overwhelmed later.

Image Credit: N/A

Something to Say

NaPoWriMo #28
Poetry form: Quatern

Sometimes I have something to say.
Sometimes I want to say nothing
about what I really feel –
I bury it within layers.

It is easy to write because
sometimes I have something to say.
Every word sprouts out eagerly,
a bamboo grove by morning light.

I begin my expedition
without a set destination.
Sometimes I have something to say;
I end up saying something else.

I’ve built a wall of reticence;
poems are the open window.
Reluctant as I am to talk,
sometimes I have something to say.

Image Credit: Outfall by Loika

(Every) New Generation

NaPoWriMo #27
Poetry form: Septolet

a rebellion
among the sheep.

Watch them burn out,
go back to sleep.

Image Credit: N/A


NaPoWriMo #26
Poetry form: Free Verse (Gradatio)

I love to watch the rain 
Rain with a flash of lightning 
Lightning with a dash of thunder 
Thunder makes me wonder 
Wonder at the wayward wind 
The wayward wind sets the rhythm 
The rhythm sways the world 
The world is in chaos 
Chaos is peaceful 
Peaceful is the moment 
The moment when I am at home 
At home watching the rain

Image Credit: Storm by Marie Spinale

False Alarm

NaPoWriMo #25
Poetry form: Limerick

He saw her when he opened the door,
motionless, spread-eagled on the floor.
For a second, he lost his head
and thought she lay there dead
only to chuckle when he heard a snore.

Image Credit: N/A


NaPoWriMo #24
Poetry form: Prose

Certain sounds used to bother me. 

Human noises like people breathing drove me crazy – it didn’t have to be a wheeze, a rasp or a rattle. It remained a battle to ignore the everyday sound of normal breathing, indecipherable, barely a decibel. 

Another peeve, of course, was people eating, the cacophony of masticating – I flinched as I heard them chomp, crunch, chew, and munch. I recoiled in distaste as they audibly swallowed their lunch. 

I didn’t understand why I found the innocuous sound of a faucet dripping so irritating. I felt like a monster because I couldn’t control the flash of anger when I heard someone drumming their fingers, tapping their feet. 

One word saved me from the lunacy of self-loathing – misophonia – a name for my malady. 

I don’t know what it is about labels that turns your torments into traits. Labels are the leash you use to control your troubles. Ever since I discovered I am misophonic, mundane sounds, while still annoying, no longer overwhelm me.

Image Credit: Illustration by Dan Bejar