NaPoWriMo Day 26: All I know

I know the birds will never stop chirping
And, the breeze will always go on dancing
Like it did when I was with you
For all I know, this much is true.

I know that sapling is now a tree
I know that you are thinking of me
As a reflection of sky in oceans blue
For all I know, this much is true.

I know you never forgave yourself
And, I still have your ring on my shelf
The one, which you that day threw
For all I know, this much is true.

I know how I felt when we walked in rains
I still miss it, I walk the same lanes
And, once in a while, you must do too
For all I know, this much is true.

I know you cannot be there for me
I know, though, that you want to be
Together through the pains of life
For all I know, this will suffice.

NaPoWriMo Day 24:Life Goes On

This poem is based on the following prompt:

Our prompt today (optional, as always), will hopefully provide you with a bit of Friday fun. Today, I challenge you to write a parody or satire based on a famous poem. It can be long or short, rhymed or not. But take a favorite (or unfavorite) poem of the past, and see if you can’t re-write it on humorous, mocking, or sharp-witted lines. You can use your poem to make fun of the original (in the vein of a parody), or turn the form and manner of the original into a vehicle for making points about something else (more of a satire – though the dividing lines get rather confused and thin at times).

“Life goes on”
He used to say it.
Despite everything, it goes on.
He used to shout it.
But, does it really?
You’re 28
And, you have no job
Your lover promised you love,
And, since is gone.
You have no friends,
And, your efforts are vain
You are alive,
But, living is pain.
But, sure,
Life goes no.
Is it life?

NaPoWriMo Day 20: Still

The world did not stop
When you went away.

The trains still come and go
Plants still wither and grow
The birds still fly in peace
The buildings still outshine the trees.

The river never stopped to rest
The sun still sets in west
People still shout and cry
Innocent souls still do die.
Still do die.
They still do die.

The world did not stop
When you went away
I did.

The world did not stop
When you went away
I wish it had not.

NaPoWriMo Day 3: The Oak Tree

“Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree,
And write your dreams there, Jim
Work a little hard and thou shall have it”

Remembering his fathers’ words,
He rushed out to his backyard,
In the garden of eternal blooms,
Carrying a ribbon in his hand

He rushed across the lush grass
Passing by the grape vines
Ignoring the white daffodils
And refusing the faith of science

He taped an end of the yellow ribbon
On the old tree to begin the task
Then went around it numerous times
For each wish of his past.

“Become an architect”, he wrote
Or maybe eat a thousand pies
In fact on second thought, he wrote
A poet would too suffice.

Word by word and wish by wish,
He filled the yellow, with wishes
Like a bucket list made of hope
The beauty of universe’s dishes.

” I will fulfill all of them”
“Yes, dream by dream”
His innocent eyes shined silver
And, began his mediocre realm.


The daffodils have withered now
And, the vine cries for water
The grass has grown yellow
And the dreams have come to shatter

The yellow ribbon is now torn
Torn with the ruins of time
No one there to look at it now
For Jim is not alive.

It’s been more than 60 years
And nothing survived the rut
60 years gone by super fast
Like a door that was shut.

Nothing was left except the tree
Withstanding the ruins of time
Narrating the story of a boy called Jim
And of his wishes a rhyme.

And it continues to wait now
In irritable tranquility for him
For another yellow ribbon and
For another little Jim.

Going Home

First, it was the escalator.
I thought it to be a dream, but it was not.
First, it was the escalator. Then, everything else. The automatic doors to the platform, the elevator, the train doors. Everything was slower today, more effortless, more tranquil, than usual.
More slow.

Everything. Not everyone.
The people weren’t slow. They were sitting there. But, they were not immobile, not slow.
They were running, fast, faster than everything around. All of them. The ones on the platform and the ones inside the train with me. Running, yet not going anywhere.
No one was going anywhere. No.

No one, not nothing.
The train. The train was. Slowly, sluggishly.
From the inside, it almost seemed fixed, immobile, as if it was not. But, it was.
It was taking me home.
Slowly, gently, gliding through the tunnel, it was taking me home.