Today I start a new poetry challenge: 100 days of happy poems. Yes, you read that right. It’s bloody tough writing 100 poems sharing happiness. Without a touch of gloom or anything negative. Let’s see how this goes.
Thanks to Bharath, a brilliant poet from Bangalore, for starting this.
Our tent is littered
with backpacks whose bellies have been ripped out,
with a notepad chronicling our adventure so far,
with sleeping bags curled like commas to optimize this space,
with shoes whose soles are caked with equal portions of mud and rain,
with dri-fit tees still damp from the evening shower,
with sunscreen lotions whose effectiveness cannot be judged yet,
with a Swiss knife that has been reduced to being a bottle opener thus far,
with bamboo cups from which we swigged apong earlier tonight.
Outside, a bonfire dies out,
its flames searching desperately for an unburnt twig.
Smoke mingles with fog while the moon looks down on paddy fields.
Inside the tent,
our bodies fill unoccupied spaces
like water slithering between rocks.
We drift into each other’s dreams,
waking only when the air inside
warms up with the sun.