NaPoWriMo #30 – Laughing Buddha

free verse, NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry, spoken word poetry

T/W: Eating disorders & self harm


There’s something you don’t know about me
I’ve been pregnant for most of my life.
When I was born,
my limbs were skeletal,
as if someone had
pulled my skin across my body
like an ironing board,
the creases and angles jutting out underneath.
But, when I was 12,
an Evil Boy and a
Wicked Girl,
guided by their impish,
fat fingers – a compass
pointing southward –
found me,
made me
their
unwilling surrogate.
Their saw-toothed words
wedged themselves
down my throat,
gnawing at my oesophagus.
That week,
instead of morning sickness,
I lost my voice.
The following week
I felt the words finally
settle in the bubbles of my stomach,
and they grew a n d g r e w   a  n  d   g   r   e   w
and I swelled a n d s w e l l e d   a   n  d   s   w  e  l  l  e  d . . .
When I walked,
I heard their gurgling
and the accompaniment of
giggles,
as I waddled my way through town.
Every step,
the bubbles rubbed against each other,
like balloons.
I wanted to get them out of me,
so one night,
alone,
in the bathroom,
my fat fingers went
southward,
past the oesophagus
to my stomach.
But,
the balloons had no strings,
nothing I could use to pull them out of me.
So, yeah, since that day I’ve been pregnant.
Nothing grows inside of me, though.
There is no reward for the back rolls from this belly.
After 8 years,
I have finally learnt to tame those teeth,
to saw down the sharp ends
so the words don’t hurt as much.
I sit and file each tooth
every day
for hours,
but still
they gnaw at my stomach,
opening sounds of the weeks before,
that had only just begun to heal.
On those days,
I watch the blood pour out of me
and wish it to wash me away with it,
as the Evil Girl and Wicked Boy
push me into the stream.
But there are some days when my belly is not
so evil.
When the bubbles put their teeth away,
reminding me that
I can be more Laughing Buddha
than Grimm Fairy-tale.
And so,
I laugh, a n d l a u g h  a  n  d  l  a  u  g  h
and my belly shakes
and jiggles,
like a baby rocking itself to sleep.
And in that moment,
I am
no longer
pregnant.

NaPoWriMo #28 – Warm Showers

free verse, NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry
I have been told people who take warm showers are lonely,
that they crave bodies.

So, sometimes I think myself
evil brute,
chewing on
flesh to tear it
from their bones to
build myself
precarious bodies,
upon which I can balance
my very delicate ego.

But mostly, I think myself
one-eyed cyclops,

narrow-visioned,
searching only for warmth,
as cold rain pours from the showerhead above.

NaPoWriMo #27 – Glue Sticks & Sunrises

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry, Small Poems

Hello everyone! Apologies for vanishing for a few days. Quarantine has not been good on my mental health and I also had a Japanese speaking exam to prepare for. But I’m feeling better and the exam is over (woo!) so I’m going to try and seriously work on some poems for the final 3 days of NaPoWriMo. To help me get back into the swing of writing I did something a little different today and took words from newspaper articles and a poem I wrote as part of an old school project about 8 years ago. It was so fun to stick stuff down on the page like a kid and also was great to help change up my writing style, since I feel like I’ve been getting into the same rhythm with my work lately. I highly recommend it if anyone wants to try switching up their writing. Anyways, enjoy this poem and have a great day! Let me know your interpretation in the comments! 🙂 Genuinely very interested to hear what people make of it!


my loud possessive flesh
failed
is novel.
passed it on a puppy farm,
two little lungs evokes
me spirit:
Crying, index to be bought,
appearing real --
moving
Dramatic scenery
but needs two
obey CINEMA seem
Art
make friends, happy and cheery,
your own, minature
bench.

By Priyanka Moorjani 8F

NaPoWriMo #16 – First Kiss Story

free verse, NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry, spoken word poetry
Here, in this local park,
with the unforgettable stench
of weed and under-boob sweat,
is where you will almost,
have your first kiss
– twice
– with two different boys
– and one girl.
With the body count
and private location
you are unsure if
this is more murder mystery
than first kiss story.
Although, something did die there;
three times
you returned home with
dry lips and wet eyes,

– your face did not belong to you anymore
it is,
it was,
an abandoned
haunted house,
each empty room,
places they could have kissed:
A warm hand against a cold cheek,
fingers sweeping across
to brush the hair from your eyes,
like curtains drawn back to
reveal the morning light
– except, there was no sunrise,
the sky stayed dark and cloudy,
your hair still stank of weed.
You will have your first kiss 5 years later.
Those boys,
that girl,
will be ghosts crawling across your cheeks,
living inside you.
When this boy leans in,
you will feel them
clawing up the corridor of your throat,
and you will vomit them out in apologies:
‘Sorry, I’m really nervous,
I’ve never done this before.
I mean, I almost did...
I don’t know what to do I–’
And then your teeth chink together,
and shaky, nervous bodies
burst into laughter,
into daylight,
and he goes in again.
Your lips have finally been doused,
with someone else’s saliva,
and it was all you needed
to wash the ghosts away.

日本に住みたい – NaPoWriMo #15

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry
日本に住みたい
(I want to live in Japan)
a mantra I repeat to myself,
on those days
when London no longer
draws me in.

But,
midway through Japanese practice,
my माताजी (mata-ji) gently raps on the door,
and leaves a plate of samosas
and a warm mug of おちゃ (Ochya)
at the the edge of my desk,

two Asian delights,
their smoke intertwining in the moonlight
and there
in the overlap
I find myself,
at home,
my home. 

Dear Poetry/This Poem (+audio🎤!) – NaPoWriMo #10-14

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry, spoken word poetry

So…I’m aware this is technically cheating because you’re meant to write a poem every day for NaPoWriMo BUT I’ve been ill, I’ve had surprise exams and a whole bunch of meltdowns so I felt I was allowed to bend the rules a little! Today I wrote this poem in a morning hour of writing on Zoom, held by London Writers’ Salon. For anyone who wants to just give an hour of their time every weekday for writing or any personal project I HIGHLY recommend it.

So I decided to write a poem with 4 stanzas, one for each day I missed of NaPoWriMo so far. And as a special treat I have included a voice recording of my poem!


Dear Poetry, thank you for letting me 
take grammar and syntax,
and throw them away, 
to rummage through language’s draws 
and only pick out the bra
 and not the matching underwear, 
that one sock I thought was cute,
 half a cropped jumper, 
and call it ‘a poem’.

Dear Poetry,
thank you for being metaphorical,
for being metamorphosis so 
my emotions can transform from
tears to ink,
I watch both dry on the page
a diffusion of microscopic memories,
a tiny whirlpool
and I call it ‘a poem’.

Dear Poetry,
thank you – no, you know what
actually sometimes I used to hate you.
Sometimes when I dived into the whirlpool
you’d suck me in,
each wave of words became tangled and knotted,
whipping me until I bowed to your greatness
- I, a lowly apprentice, 
could never hold your beauty in my pen,
on my tongue. But, battered and bruised,
broken pen in hand, I tried
And called it ‘a poem’.

Dear Poetry,
thank you for teaching me
to be strong, for slipping
each letter, every full stop, every question mark
between the crevices of my spine,
and sculpting me a backbone:
Now I know how to use metamorphosis 
all on my own,
how a broken pen can transform
 into the sharpest sword,
how mismatched drapery 
can fold itself into the most able armour
and how poetry can become a life-long friend.
So here, I wrote you this letter
and called it ‘a poem’
- this poem.

Oval Plushies – NaPoWriMo #9

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry

Hello everyone! I hope you’re all doing well. Thank you very much to all the new people who have joined me in my journey of writing in this corner of the internet!

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem in a shape, and my sister pointed out that all my plushies on my bed are oval shaped. This writing exercise was so fun! I ended up actually not caring about what I was writing and enjoyed creating something in a shape. I highly recommend it!


text:
my sister told me that all of my plushes
are oval shaped.
they sit on my bed,
together,
and i am convinced they
watch me all the time,
their cute oval eyes
going wide at my 
naked body,
like everyone else does. 
but, somedays 
i do really hope they 
are watching me 
hug them as i
fall asleep. 

Robbed – NaPoWriMo #7

NaPoWriMo 2020, Poetry
a thief entered in daylight,
breathing air-tight,
with vexatious appetite, 
left the house frozen,
but patronisingly rosen,
each petal coerced me to an empty room
i, a cartographer shrouded in gloom,
found nothing 
my youth 
had gone.