Today I’m once again
The thumbsucking child
I wish to lie on my side
curl up into a ball
Close my eyes tight
And pretend to be asleep
My hair falling onto my face
Cocoons me in warm dark
I crack my eyelids
To see the beings
They exist apart from me
I wonder at them as they move about
I wonder at me
I watch
For a long time
If they look at me
I play dead
Unaware of being watched they move about
I is a small word
A small world
A world of one
Only one
And then

© Vineetha Mekkoth

Remember, remember

Two little petticoated girls swinging in the breeze
The hills around charming
The river a story telling
Swing this way
Swing that way
Round and round
In the breeze
The nooses are tight
The bruises are bright
Yet the nooses brought release
The pedophiles roam free
In those hills
By the gurgling river
Forgotten by a people
Overwhelmed by disease
Overwhelmed by fears
Overwhelmed by everything selfish
What do two little petticoated girls
Swinging in the breeze matter?

Note: Dedicated to the memory of the little sisters of Walayar, Kerala, India who were raped and killed by their kin. The rapists remain free owing to their political connections. This poem was first published in the July 2020 issue of Glomag

© Vineetha Mekkoth

Climate change is a reality
Yet how the world chooses
To close its eyes
To pretend to not see
As we continue to maraud this bhoomi.

Our future lies trembling at our doorstep
Yet we shut the door to it.

That girl, Greta
She says what we all know in our hearts to be true
And unable to bear that they taunt her
They call her sick and hope that she will stop speaking
Stop speaking the bitter truth
And yet we continue
All over the world
To burn forests
Set up coal mines
Fill up marshes
Dig and tear up our earth.

Sakha, see the incessant rains and floods
And some parts suffering from unbearable heat wave
Elsewhere, the sudden cold

She is sick, Sakha
Your sakhi, Bhoomi
Unable to bear what is being done
To her by her own progeny
And when she unleashes her misery
We are helpless
We have nothing to save us from destiny.
Our own crafted destiny.

©Vineetha Mekkoth


Will there be candlelight vigils for you Dalit girl?
Will anyone cry over your brutalisation?
Will there be any encounters to polish off the criminals
Disregarding their upper caste status and religion?
Will they even ever get punished for their cruelty?
Or will they win tickets to join the Parliament?
Will you be mourned for by anyone other than your family
While we women shudder at what you underwent?
Has it not been like this since time immemorial
Rape and brutalisation for Dalit women?
Is not casteism the greatest inhuman burden
That all Hindu minds bear with or without trepidation?

Call a spade a spade
Call an illness by its name
Casteism is shit
Violence against women
Happens because you can get away with it
If you have the right connections
Sab kuch chalta hai
So much for greatness and equality
The future is bright
But bright
Maybe we will all burn

©Vineetha Mekkoth

Five Haikus written in 2015

The day dawns bright clear
hopes arise eternal
to vaporise

Drops of rain
drumming on the roof tops
singing a melody

Time stands winter-still
Our love in suspended animation
Hibernates quiet

Early summer sun
Setting free basketfuls of
laughing dragonflies

Bubbling up in hearts
Koels coo unheralded
Effervescent joy

NaPoWriMo 2020

30 poems in as many days. So till April 14th I have written on the prompts of the Napowrimo site and from 15th to 30th on the prompts on the Facebook group The Significant League(TSL). I have written more than 30. Blogged some only now.
Providing the links below.

Prompt 1

Prompt 2

Prompt 3

Prompt 4

Prompt 5

Prompt 6

Prompt 7

Prompt 8

Prompt 9

Prompt 10

Prompt 11

Prompt 12

Prompt 12 again

Prompt 13

Prompt 14

Prompt 15

Prompt 16

Prompt 17

Prompt 18

Prompt 19

Prompt 20

Prompt 21

Prompt 22

Prompt 22 again

Prompt 23

Prompt 24

Prompt 25

Prompt 26

Prompt 27

Prompt 28

Prompt 28 some more

Prompt 29

Prompt 30

# Napowrimo Day 13

Today, our poetry resource is the archives of The Found Poetry Review. During its five years of operation, this journal specialized in publishing poems that were “found,” rather than written. What does that mean? Well, it means poems collaged from existing language, rather than newly created from scratch. A sort of borrowing from the universe.

There’s a pithy phrase attributed to T.S. Eliot: “Good poets borrow; great poets steal.” (He actually said something a bit different, and phrased it a bit more pompously – after all, this is T.S. Eliot we’re talking about). Nonetheless, our optional prompt for today (developed by Rachel McKibbens, who is well-known for her imaginative and inspiring prompts) plays on the idea of stealing. Today, I challenge you to write a non-apology for the things you’ve stolen. Maybe it’s something as small as your sister’s hairbrush (or maybe it was your sister’s boyfriend!) Regardless, I hope this sly prompt generates some provocative verse for you.

Stolen Arms

Stolen kisses are the sweetest it is said
May I add stolen kicks to the list
As a scrawny teenager long long ago
Travelling in a crowded bus I did feel
The foot of a co-traveller creeping up my shin
Mister Odious was sitting and I standing
A few stolen kicks did the trick
He squirmed unable to scream
The rest of my journey went smooth as a dream
I got off the bus unapologetically happy
So stolen kicks, pin pricks all help you see
But the light of exposure is what these most fear
I learnt as time passed and freedom is dear

Copyright Vineetha Mekkoth

#Napowrimo Day 14

Our poetry resource for the day is “Dr. Williams’ Heiresses,” a chapbook published by Alice Notleyin 1980. In it, she weaves strange and discursive creation-myth for American poetry, and her own work, as influenced by the work of the poet William Carlos Williams.
Today’s optional prompt asks you, like Alice Notley, to think about your own inspirations and forebears (whether literary or otherwise). Specifically, I challenge you today to write a poem that deals with the poems, poets, and other people who inspired you to write poems. These could be poems/poets/people that you strive to be like, or even poems, poets, and people that you strive not to be like. There are as many ways to go with this prompt as there are ways to be inspired.

A Haiku

Inspirations waves
The ocean of writers wide
A seeker small, I

Copyright Vineetha Mekkoth

#TSL Napowrimo Day 17

We all seem to be going through a phase when we have enough time to brood or introspect.
How about writing a poem about
Forgiveness. It could be about the people you want to forgive or wished you had forgiven but couldn’t . It could also be a poem about asking forgiveness from some one you want to and couldn’t . Maya Angelou suggested –
“It’s one of the greatest gifts that you can give yourself, to forgive. Forgive everybody.”
Perhaps we can learn to perfume heels that crush us. Well , I believe the violet does that.

On Forgiving

Forgiveness is not easy
It is given to the one who has hurt
By the one scarred forever
Forgiveness is a gift given to the perpetrator
By the one whose soul was torn to shreds
A release from resentment and anger
But is it easy
To forgive a rapist or molester?
Is it right?
To forgive some deeds is not possible
When the perpetrator is unrepentant

Forgiveness can come
Should come only
Where there is penitence
Forgive only when asked for and if the hurt has healed
If not nurse the hurt
It might be the only thing keeping you alive

Copyright Vineetha Mekkoth

TSL Napowrimo 23

“As the National Poetry Writing Month spreads its wings from one day to the other, I turn to my many muses who have left their imprints in my heart permanently. I turn to each of them for strength and inspiration amid these trying times when poetry becomes a cause to live not only thoughtfully, but also with human quirks and idiosyncrasies.
Today my muse is the mad Girl Sylvia Plath.

Lines from Sylvia Plath’s poem ‘Mirror’:

‘’I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful ‚
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.’’

We all see our selves in the mirror every day, and some days, we might swoon over our reflection there, while some days, we might find we are incomplete and fragmented, torn and twisted.
Which reflection would you love to own as yours?
Write an unappeasable, unapologetically true poem about your reflection in the mirror.”

A Reflection on a reflection

Chancing upon the mirror while crying
Can be rather discomforting
The face that looks back at you
With swollen eyelids, red nose, puffy lips
Is that of an ugly stranger
Only on-screen heroines look beautiful while crying
While you and I look like wrecks
So my advice is this, girls
Keep away from the mirror while crying
Use it for the briefest moments
To check on your appearance
We have so much to do and get done
The rest you leave to Narcissus

Copyright Vineetha Mekkoth