Hour 4- Picture Imperfect

We have fought many applaudable battles,

But our biggest one will forever be against time itself.

In a world where people grow older,

Than what we now see as fortunate,

With more time on our hands,

We spend lesser time on the what-s and more on the whys.

More time on the intricacies of life,

On the meaning of who we are,

What we’re made of in our minds and souls,

Not just voluminous blood and brittle bone.

As we race against clocks we can’t see,

We’ll learn to live a little more in the moment,

Focus lesser on the rights and lefts

And a lot more on the rights and wrongs.

A picture painted by our ancients a century ago,

Rivalled the tapestry that we have woven for ourselves now.

In a world where people grow older,
Than what we then saw as fortunate,
With more time on our hands,

We have more questions and lesser answers.
More time on the intricacies of life,

What we mean to the world and how much we can claim,
What we’re made of in our minds and souls,

Battles as each sees two different sides of a coin.
As we race against clocks we can’t see,

We force to go just a little bit faster,

Focus lesser on rights and more on coin,

Lest we miss something; we lose our minds…

Note: Prompt was to write a poem set a hundred years ago or a hundred years from now

Hour 3- Filled vessels make the most noise

He stood singing in the empty room,

His eyes closed as he travelled through the trills,

The sound of his voice bouncing off the walls,

Standing alone but filling the entire space.

The stage of his mind was elaborately jewelled,

Its many colours and lights standing out,

The many stories and songs that it held,

Covered in shrouds of secrecy that was his skin.

He let out the power he held in short amounts,

Controlled, as it had to battle its way through him,

The notes fighting to leave his fingertips,

The words fighting to work through his fast scribbles.

Like the water flowing from a full dam,

He was the spillway that brought its magic to all life,

A vessel connecting the real world to the world of glories,

To a world we would all live better in.

Note: The poem is on Jonathan Larson, an American composer, lyricist and playwright who wrote the musical ‘Rent’.

Hour 2- The Darkest Evening

A bright and cheerful person like me,

You wonder what my worry might be,

Why I sometimes have to back away,

Not always breezy and carefree.

The darkest evening of the year,

Unlike others, is the day I least fear,

The one I wait for and vie for,

Though unbothered, I might appear.

You ask of me worried, why it is so,

So my worries I will now forgo,

And I shall tell you what plagues me,

The battle I am forced to fight solo.

Not just sleep’s prisoners in the nights,

It bleeds into the shine of the sun’s lights.

Always only a second away from a slumber,

My dreams are the place of my biggest frights.

So spare me if I beg for a few more hours,

Of the dark cloak of night’s powers,

A few more hours where it’s peace for me too,

The peace you find in meadows and flowers.

Note: Narcolepsy:

A condition characterized by recurrent episodes of daytime somnolence and lapses in consciousness (microsomnias) that may be associated with automatic behaviours and amnesia.


Credits: “The darkest evening of the year” is taken from the poem ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ by Robert Frost. Another Note: The poem follows an ‘aaba’ rhyme scheme which is also followed in the poem

Hour 1- The Temp-ress

She summoned the wave to her vicinage,

Purely with the strength of the soul,

The tide obeying her like she was the moon,

A tempest slowly gathering around her.

A smile on her face as she played with the current,

Testing its limits as she tested her own,

“You will always be with me, won’t you?”, she crooned,

Her hand cupping the brine dripping out.

“The ocean is my friend, and me, her slave.

I am only a reflection of the light each drop holds.”

She ruled the currents of the ocean with her power,

Yet she knew it could break rope and wood to smithereens.

“It is why”, she said as she stepped on the beach, barefoot,

“I surrender myself before I can conquer.

For how will the ocean reject a gift of bone and sinew?”

She stepped into its fore and the ocean, oh, she took her in.

Note: The title is a play on the words ‘tempest’ and ‘temptress’, owing to the protagonist looking to tempt the ocean into taking her in when she rejects everyone and everything else.


Side note for the people who are still here: Just this morning in the beach I asked the ocean to come say hi and it miraculously did.

Year 2!

Hello everyone! So excited to be back for year 2 of this absolutely amazing marathon! Cannot wait to write and see everyone’s poems this time. I’m with @meghana and we’re writing this year together :3


All the best everyone!

Attaching the link to the spotify playlist I made last year for anyone who needs one


#24- (s)miles Away

Finally where I wanted to be,

Miles away from the rest of the world,

Always running,

The race never really stops.

But pause, it did,

As if the earth was exhaling and letting go,

Time come to a standstill,

Much like the broken clock.

As we laugh for long hours,

Moving our pawns around the board,

Hiding cards to be triumphant,

A movie playing in the background.

The rest of the world,

Couldn’t really enter into our neverland,

This place we created only for ourselves.

Only for happiness and smiles.

No other place I can name,

That keeps me quite that safe,

No other place like a warm embrace,

Like sitting with my parents grinning wide…


#23- Fireflies

The sap greens in the darkness,

Masquerading as black,

The sound of insects buzzing,

Filling the air.

You notice one far off from you,

A sudden point of light flashing out at you.

Within no time at all,

You’re surrounded all around with these little flickers.

You can almost see them move,

Looking like they’re winking in and out of existence,

The sounds of the thunder and the owl,

And the sounds of these little buzzers.

You stand in place,

Turning all around,

Like nature’s Christmas lights,

You can see little shades of green.

One lands on the flower in front of you,

Its little brown body holding on to the petal,

Its antennae moving upwards and downwards,

As its light organ is brought to life.

A bright flash,

Scaring off any predators,

Sending secret coded messages to its species,

And impressing the ladies.

The fireflies lighting up the darkness,

Like little bursts of hope,

All you need to guide you home,

When you get lost in the darkness…


#22- The one with no sleep

No sleep for hours on end,

Inches away from penning an ode on my bed,

Haven’t even risen to stretch and bend,

Typing away with one hand on my head.

My eyes burning, rimmed red,

But I keep going, I keep fighting,

Only a mere three hours ahead,

For me to feel proud of myself, smiling.

I reach deep inside of me,

To remember why I started this Herculean exercise,

A cup or two more of coffee,

To stay up until its time for the prize.

I remind myself of how fun the whole journey was,

And a smile makes its way onto my face,

Forcing my addled mind to stop finding flaws,

In my work, now time to embrace.

I am happy,

I am satisfied,

Ridden with glee,

I pick back up my stride…


#21- An Ode on Reading

Taking me to different universes

My own personal medium of transport

Books whisk me a way leaving nothing behind

Heart of mine racing


I love them so with all of my heart and soul

Reading always makes me feel like I am home

Affiliated with my very being

Peaceful and enthralled


Without reading life is devoid of magic

The sheen and sparkle that keeps you up missing

Mundane, insipid, unimaginative

No use existing



#20-A Walk under the Moon

Perks of being of the female gender,

So many, it addles my brain.

Not being able to take a walk at night,

Just one of the very many.

Do everything in our power,

To make sure we don’t feel powerless,

But powerful, oh I haven’t felt that ever,

Definitely not enough to stroll at night.

Have to look behind my back at all times,

Remain alert, my ears perked for sounds,

The peace of the moonlit night,

Ruined by the chaos of the night.

So I admire the night from a distance,

Looking at the moon’s craters,

Remaining indoors,

Trying to grasp tendrils of power…