Day 28: Wordless Wednesday with a poem

Today is the last Wordless Wednesday with a poem. Two more days left in April and some things remain to be answered. Plus one mildly amused and one endearing poem in the memories at the end.

Prompt 28: “Write a poem that poses a series of questions.

Real questions

How can you tell for sure
whether something is a poem 
and not merely a regular sentence 
set out in a column?

How does one tell apart 
meditation and a power nap?

How cold will it be tomorrow
if they say it will be twice as cold
and today it’s the freezing point, 
0 degrees Celsius?

More importantly, 
when I sense a loss is coming
in my card game, 
does this mean that I will lose 
no matter what I do, 
or is it to spur me on 
to do something extravagant 
and still win?

And why does this remind me so 
of the future of humanity?

And finally, why is it that today, 
on a rare walk without my camera, 
I find a door at our trash heap,
clearly left there for a door lover
but only good enough 
to take home in a photo?


NaPoWriMo 2021 Button with black background

This day in my NaPoWriMo history (2018): Click on the photo to read 12 April postcard prose poems, written to this photo and 11 others, because “as its creators intended, the prose poem is the ultimate act of rebellion.”

This day in my NaPoWriMo history (2019):

Dis connect

I was supposed to watch 18 minutes
of four poets  
talking Emily
and then write my own
meta poem.  
A poem on a poem.

Meta is my mother's name.
I learned Meta  
at the source.

For me reading poetry is intimate.
A recognition of another's truth
that binds.  

I am on my laptop as it is,
and he is on his.
His father is watching TV and cooking.

My earplugs are killing  
the last thread of connection
that remains.

It is like at home now
that he bought  
the headset for his game.  

To connect with poems and poets
is to disconnect with everything  
and everybody else.  

I lasted till minute 9.

Was this a test? 

This day in my NaPoWriMo history (2020):

Green room

Green tapison
that her grandmother
cleans with suds
on her knees;
a big green picture
of a locomotive;
green furniture,
and white,
oh how it suffers –
when the closet door
it becomes the perfect slide
from the bed
until that breaks too;
“Green Door”
on a cassette
that father didn't bring from abroad,
he brings Cat
instead of Shaky,
only getting the “Stevens” part right,
something she will cheer for
later in life;
the books arranged by
always something new;
the broken pieces
of a glass serving platter
hidden behind a cabinet
in the hopes they will just forget about it;
and in the middle of it
little Manja
growing up into a secret,
cleaning her room the only way she can,
by making it interesting,
turning it into a game:
first all the mess is gathered
in the middle of the room,
then it is divided into little heaps
according to drawers and shelves
where it is due to end up,
and finally it is put there.
In alphabetical order.

22 thoughts on “Day 28: Wordless Wednesday with a poem

  1. You began the poem with a question that perpetually nags me and it made me feel better knowing I’m not the only one :). And that confusion between meditation and power nap…was a good one. Ha ha.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hihi, I’m really glad to hear the first, Smitha. 🙂 Meditation is new for me since this month. I’m quite confused. I’ve been having 20-minute power naps all my life, now I just call them differently. 😀 Thank you! Happy Sunday to you!


      1. Ha ha…I know that feeling. Try doing Savasana in yoga and then you will be even more confused.😀
        Wishing you a wonderful week ahead and hoping to see many more beautiful photographs and posts from you.

        Liked by 1 person

Happy to learn the first thing on your mind.

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