National Poetry Writing Day 25 challenge is to write a poem called “The Poetics of Space”, about the emotional relationship that people have with particular kind of spaces- the insides of sea shells, drawers, nooks and all various parts of the house. Any space will do – so long as it is small, definite and meaningful to you.
The prompt brought back memories of the three years I spent in my grandmother’s house. The little corner room was my home away from home- it allowed me to look at the world outside while remaining hidden from the outside. It was my haven- where I laughed and cried, celebrated wins and bruised myself back after a loss. Three decades after moving away, the room remains the same with everything just as I left it.
In the sprawling old house,
That was my grandmother’s,
Was a cozy, corner room, that was mine.
Rose bushes lined it’s eastern wall,
Reached up-to it’s windows,
And filled it with a pure, sweet, smell.
Four little windows on this wall,
Overlooked- the wrought -iron gate in the front,
A narrow road and the village school across.
The other two windows on the adjacent side,
Had a view of the gardens and the fields beyond,
The neighbor’s cows, the clucking hens and the community’s main well.
Shaded by an old guava tree and hidden by a jutting wall,
And branches of plants, growing tangled and wild,
Unnoticed it went, from an outsider’s eye.
Hours I’d spend here, away from all,
Tucked away, in a world of my own,
Dreaming dreams, weaving tales, that made me smile.
A table small, lay in the corner,
A bangle stand, a red alarm clock and an old record player,
A drawer full of greeting cards and walls covered with art,
A brown, wooden cupboard, covered with bright, colorful stickers,
A full length mirror and teenage posters,
That screamed, “My Room, My Space. Stick to the barrier!”.
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