NaPoWriMo-1 Sublime Hues

April is back and NapoWriMo with it. At the RS group on Fb, there are prompts for each day of the month. Do join in if you would like to exercise your imagination and follow a prompt or simply give in to the sheer joy of writing a poem a day on anything that stirs something in you. Wishing everyone 30 days of writing pleasure. I for one won’t take it as a challage because then the thrill peters out too soon but rather as an exercise to know what new ideas the prompts may throw up. A busy time but then poems do not ask for much- a few minutes of solitude, a window to look out from, a flower, a tree, a child, a few bars of music or just feeling freely flowing in the joy of being alive. Happy NaPoWriMo friends.


Sublime Hues

Mountains away from this ice
I remember a green one
its edges jagged yet wanting to be caressed
by the softness kissing the tallest of
its many rugged peaks
Under this mushroom of white and green
two brown bodies trudged
Their streams flowing together
unmindful of the tinkle of the rocky stream
and the chortle of a green-eyed elf
who could read footprints deep into time
and above them all
the blue spread its welcoming arms
pinning the sky to the oceans
A greenhouse of life, of lust, of lovelier lies
than the ones you thought up to keep me in love
but regret it I do not
for mine were just as inadequate
never reaching past the shadows
on the leeward side of life
while on the other, the waves still dash against the cliff every night
raining ceaselessly while the wind searches for other broken reed pipes
and the sublime canopy we lived under once
shelters dreamers with sweeter lips
© Reena Prasad.


One thought on “NaPoWriMo-1 Sublime Hues

  1. I am a few days late attempting this challenge . But who cares I can catch up …what am I three poems behind . I love your description of all it needs to write a poem , you are absolutely right . Do yours just happen or are they work in progress? . Love this poem …you write what I like to hear . To be honest Reena I have not read one bad poem they are all bliss .


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