And last but not least, here’s today’s optional prompt. In “Ocean,” Robinson Jeffers delivers an almost oracular, scriptural description of the sea not just as a geographical phenomenon, but a sort of being – old, wise, profound, and able to teach those who want to learn. Today, try writing a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.
Happy writing!
the impermanence
of rain-pools
In unleavened corners
where roots of neem and peepul
have enticed the brickwork to rise
like bread,
raindrops assemble
like fans at a concert
noisy, rumbunctious—lit up from within
and pool
In March, the neem permitted
her flock of golden fleece
to puddle in the frolic
the leaves lay there like holidaymakers
in resorts in the Maldives
floating belly up
goldening
despite thunder,
despite war
It’s April, the pools are back
holding the moon, the sky
a lazy cat, black and white, who’s adopted the
roundest terracotta pot
(home of two basils - purple and sweet)
as her royal perch
does her usual catwalk
its active tail carelessly parts
the waters into two
shimmering truths—
one half peace
the other in flux
Like it started, it will end
water will vapour
and I will too
but in the interim, if I choose
I could copy the cat, the leaf, or be
more like the pool—
reflect without clinging
to an image, an idea or a single state of being
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