Dearest,
Hate it or love it, micropoetry has ushered so many people into the universe of poetry. And we are all richer because of that.
But micropoetry isn’t new, of course.
For instance, this riddle poem by Amir Khusrao:
He visits my town once a year.
He fills my mouth with kisses and nectar.
I spend all my money on him.
Who, girl, your man?
No, a mango.
Or this haiku by Basho:
While rolling the Chimaki dumpling,
The other hand hold,
Her bangs.
(Chimaki: A rice dumpling wrapped in bamboo leaves)
While these micropoems have existed since forever, it was with the advent of Instagram that they reached the zenith of their popularity.
The likes of Rupi Kaur, Nikita Gill, Lang Leav, Marisa B. Crane, Tyler Knott Gregson, and Michael Faudet, have played a major role in making poetry accessible to all through their micropoems.
Last week, Femme_Fridays hosted a workshop on this genre. And I HAD to join because I love this format. It is fun, it is to-the-point, and it invariably reveals what’s on your mind.
Micropoems are also a great way to deal with a writer’s block. They help you sharpen your editing skills too.
Here’s the poem I wrote during the workshop. It isn’t profound, but I am extremely proud of it because it is raw and it reveals multitudes that one tiny person might carry.
You think you’ve figured yourself out, and BAM! a micropoem shows you that you could be this and that and everything in between.
If this letter encourages you to write a micropoem, then do share it with me, pretty please? I love receiving your letters. 💖🥰
Some verses:
#1 Torn Map by Naomi Shihab Nye
Once
by mistake
She tore a map
in half.
She taped it back
but crookedly.
Now all the roads
ended in water.
There were mountains
right next to her hometown.
Wouldn’t that be nice
if it were true?
I’d tear a map
and be right next
to you.
#2 Excerpt from Alone by Maya Angelou
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
#3 homage to my hips by Lucille Clifton
these hips are big hips
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top!
Some tunes:
Goodness to walk away with from the nook:
Get nostalgic: A walk through a Ghibli village (a longer cut)
Let curiosity kill you: How did Bollywood come to Mumbai?
Do nothing: The new 5-star campaign is AWESOME!
Love is love is love: Sharing fruit with loved ones
Learn slowly: A poem by Mary Oliver
Wondering how you can support me?
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or,
Take care and don’t forget to comb your hair!
Love, Riya
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