April 16, 2019

The prompt given by the official NaPoWriMo site: Write a poem that used a form of list to defamiliarize the mundane.

Not much muse yet still, but I am doing the mediocre a miracle – confessing to the lack of ingenious ideas. Also, well, I bend rules sometimes




Her eyes pierce the mirror

Just so that broken shards

Could be blamed for disfiguring

What she imagines is a lovely face.

Well, a lovely face it is

For it blooms with life

Even when her skin is drained of the blush.

But it’s the redness that drapes

a glass cheek she yearns for;

Fragrant hearts and blossoming eyes

Are never going to do.

That is perhaps why the mirror

Unbroken, reflects only her disdain.

It’s not that the mirror is unbroken

But rather just

That her beliefs are broken.

Will someone teach her

To stare into the light

Within her eyes?

Have you ever been drunk

On the memory of an after rain,

How the soil snuggles into your heart

And ivies of imagination spring

From the warm brown blanket of Earth?

And have you ever closed your eyes

And inhaled from your ears the passing secrecy

That rages within the crackle of each flame

Flickering by the hearth?

The way the sound summons leaping inferno

Into the darkness of the eye-

Like lightning streaking the night.

That dark blaze and flaring softness

Medle inside your eyes

Like you are but an intangible impression

And the solid reassurance of home at once.


Have you ever seen a child

that has wandered into wonder,

Admiring the mundane?

The way her lips part by meagre angles

As though willing to quaff


this might of life in creation?

Yours lips throb with the same lust

For merry things that could be sung of

Of words that could be spilt from the heart,

And thoughts that nestle within.

I eagerly gape at those thin red laces,

For what fanciful ideas hide within,

Ever on the cusp of escaping.

Those fine little traces are majestic gateways

To the vibrant empire of your mind.

But all you want is full bloom flowers

And bold redness in your lips,

In place of its enigmatic charm.


Look, now, they are all waiting outside,

Wondering what world you are lost in?

Long you’ve taken for a visit to the mirror

So it’s time you hasten back to your image.

But oh, don’t pine for the rose that is dead

In what you believe is a mediocre face.

If time granted me permit

I’d sing you a legacy

Of all the stories that lie unspun

In the crevices of your skin.

Why do you yearn to be the epitome

Of beauty that has been misconfined?

Your power lies within the skin-

Your stories and the way you animate

Your features with the multitude of them.

Why, to me you are dear,

As myriad and intangible

As the ever transforming sky-

Your beauty so quaint,

Ever fleeting like imagination.


Does she see now,

in the unrevealing reflection,

that she is not in the features

suspended in the moment,

but rather in the graceful elegance within her

with which she ignites them to life?

We all are.



I am inviting you all to join me in this venture. Use the prompt given above to craft your own verses.
And oh, be sure to tag me.




© 2019 Sahana Narendran Protection Status

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