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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