Category: Daily Prompt

NaPoWriMo 2025 – Day 5

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April Poetry Writing Month – Day 5

Transformation is a gradual process. Some changes may appear sudden, even momentary, but truth often reveals itself slowly, shaped by situation, perspective, and frame of mind.

Franz Kafka´s Metamorphosis is deeply human. His protagonist may awaken transformed one morning, but the emotional and existential weight of the change unfolds over time. 

This poem is not an interpretation of Kafka´s work, but a personal response to the prompt, “Chasing Butterflies”.  It reflects on transformation in my own time – a movement from longing to awareness, from idealism to presence. Like butterflies, truths are sometimes elusive…. yet, unmistakable when they arrive.

Random Post – Believe in Yourself

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What’s something you believe everyone should know.

I had written a paragraph, keeping up with the personal challenge assigned during the NaNoWriMo 2023 that began on 1st of November.

The excerpt from the paragraph resonated with the Prompt “question”.

So, I thought of sharing it here. As always, a poetic touch to my expressions.

A flow of self-help thoughts typed into words. If I put it in steps to follow:

1.Learn to love yourself

2. Believe in yourself.

3. Take control of your life.

4.Others are helpful , but they are not your decision makers.

5. Wisely, use the opportunity in hand.

Thank you

Random Post: Question Prompt

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What was the last thing you searched for online? Why were you looking for it?

The last thing I searched online was “words” to write a poem. The words were: whine, vine, vein, and wine.

What fascinated further was: the four words were similar sounding, technically ‘homophones’, at the same time three alphabets – ‘i, n, e’ – were common.

But, the meanings differed. Whine ( complaining cry/sound), vine ( climbing plant), vein (as in human body) and wine ( drink from fermented grapes).

That got me thinking. Can an unusual poem be attempted at?

A glass of wine relaxing vein, unwinds the vine of restraints and the laughter bubbled; Alas! He heard the whine. His own or the engine?

Blue Frame

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Agile hands worked hard to toil

The family owned land.

Sheets of blue tarpaulin shaded

Young one cuddled up on tattered sheet.

Beads of sweat vanished into the parched land. But,

Water not enough to bed the seeds.

A familiar blue frame with broken glass dangled;

Bamboo held it strong. The photo meant faith.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar