30 Days of Poetry - Keshav Suryanarayanan

30 Days of Poetry Keshav Suryanarayanan

Acknowledgements

The Story behind the Book - The People The words and art in this book would not have happened without two amazing people—Aditi Subramanian & Aishwarya Soni.

Aditi is the reason I embarked on the ‘30 Days of Poetry’ journey in April 2021. She asked me to join her as she set out to write one poem a day for the entire month from a series of prompts. I learnt a lot about how I write and what ideas inspire me to write more. She’s also the reason I saw it through after coming close to giving up several times during the month. I also enjoyed the poems she wrote every day for their sometimes serious, sometimes whimsical, but always original flavour.

Aishwarya inspired me and supported me to create the pieces of line art for each poem. Inspired by ‘Aesop’s Blooms’—a data visualisation project by Nicholas Rougeux that transforms the text of the famous Aesop's Fables into bouquets of flowers each with a unique colour palette—we developed this idea to use the words of the poems to generate patterns which became the line art on every spread of this book. Not only did it make this entire project more beautiful, we also learnt a lot about data visualisation through the process of experimentation.

And I thank my words for, as always, leading me to places yet unexplored.

Process

The Story behind the Art - The 3 Rules 1. Words and Lines Each word creates a line, whose length is decided by the number of letters in the word. i.e. “write” would create a line 5 units long The direction of each line would be decided by the position of the word. i.e. The first word would create a line upwards, the second towards the right, the third downwards, the fourth towards the left, and so on.

2. Sentences and Colours Each sentence of the poem creates a line of a different colour. All words in a sentence have the same colour.

Sentence 1

Sentence 20

For example:

I write because I must.

- 15714 I speak if i must, - 15214 But both are built on these words I trust. - 3 4 3 5 2 5 5 1 5 Putting these two parameters together, each set of sentences generates a complex set of lines, that represent the words and sentences.

Sentence 1 Sentence 2 Sentence 3

3. Stanzas and Line Thicknesses Each subsequent stanza increases the thickness of the lines by one unit. i.e. stanza 1 = 1 pt, stanza 2 = 2 pts, stanza 3 = 3 pts, and so on.

Stanza 1 2

3

4

5

6

For example:

I thought of a couple of things I could write yesterday, But somehow they just didn't feel right to say.

And I realised something I should have known, That to force yourself to do some things can often be futile.

And it should be okay, it should be normal, To give yourself permission to stop once in a while.

Stanza 1

Stanza 2

Poems

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15,16,17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

Tenderness Excess Ask Vaccine Earth Habit Words Stop Elegy Vast Protest Rainbow Warm Stillness Need, Favourite, Love Burden Meanwhile Bucket List Lost Instructions Moon Jasmine Broken Migration Reunion Monsoon Hope Daydream

Day 1

Tenderness

What is tenderness?

Is it an accident that tender could mean many things?

To be tender is to be soft.

But isn't to tender also to give?

Maybe it's no accident at all, In life, isn't to be soft often to be open to give?

And isn't that what it means to live?

To wait it out until the end, To wait it out knowing things may mend, To live life like its a story in a letter you never know if you'll get to send.

And when the story's still on its way And we don't know the end, Is what matters what we end up saying, Or what we intend?

Anyway, I feel like I've said far less than I meant to.

But I've been told I tend to, often.

Day 2

Excess

What is excess If not a line drawn With a razor-sharp edge, Cutting through society, And driving in a wedge.

Someone once called it "A mechanism of manufacturing discontent."

A way of saying I shall have whatever I can take.

And if others have not even enough bread to eat, Well, "Let them eat cake."

I'm no exception to the rule.

And I don't mean this any other way, But I hate my excess too.

Day 3

Ask

I like questions.

They're quite humbling, I think.

What are they if not ads of our ignorance, And reminders too, That there's still much left to learn and do.

I once wrote something called 'Questions Unasked' And not even to answer them, But just to raise them right was quite the task.

You see, if you ask it wrong, you've already dropped the ball.

Knowing how to ask is half the job done, And then to actually ask, There's idam, porul, yaeval and all.

We've all heard that curiosity killed the cat.

But that's only half the tale.

If you ask what the rest of it is, You'd find out it's that satisfaction brought it back.

Anyways, if you ask me what the point of this whole piece is, I'd say well asked, that's a great question.

Day 4

Vaccine

I think framing the right sentence is like programming a vaccine.

Now let me tell you what I mean.

If I tell you, "Don't think of an elephant", Your mind still probably conjured up one, Despite what that sentence meant.

That's the power of a frame, The power to control the rules of the mind game.

You see, like a vaccine tricks your body into reacting a certain way, You can get people's minds to react differently just by how you frame what you say.

So the next time you're looking to persuade someone and you hit a wall, Stop for a second to figure out if it's your framing that's at fault.

Day 5

Earth

How on earth are we still alive?

At the rate we've managed to destroy the rest of this planet, It's a miracle we still haven't died.

In what world does it make sense To bite the hand that feeds you To end the very world that breeds you It's like if the sons had decided to devour Saturn.

But like someone once said, Some men just want to watch the world burn.

Maybe if we could unearth our humanity for just a while, We might realise saving what's left of this planet is at least worth a try.

Day 6

Habit

The hardest thing about writing every day Is the everyday part, The feeling that you didn't think this through at the start.

Making putting pen to paper a daily habit Is not unlike a magician sticking his hand into a hat Day after day Hoping, just hoping, there's yet another rabbit Left to pull out.

All you can do is hope.

Hope you don't run out of magic, Hope you can still find the comic in the tragic.

Hope you don't run out of things to say, And then leave it to your words to find their own way.

Day 7

Words

My words work.

I call, they come.

I lead, they follow.

And then some.

My first followers, I call them.

If you know what I mean, You know how I see them.

My ambassadors to the world, Saying what I mean And often saying more.

A little here, a little there But adding some more beauty as they go.

Some may say they say too much, And some things are best left unsaid.

And to them, I say, In my own words, You don't say.

Of course some things remain silently in my head, But some things cannot and should not stay unsaid.

For those thoughts that must see the light of day, My words make sure people hear what I have to say.

And they work.

First of all, they work for me.

I talk to learn, To see what my words tell me.

They work, first for me.

If others hear them too, They've done more than I needed them to.

One day I may retire them, And they will enjoy their well earned rest.

But for now I require them, and they me, And we put each other to the test.

I write because I must.

I speak if i must, But both are built on these words I trust.

Sometimes I lead them, and sometimes I'm led.

And if I'm lucky, If I'm listening, Sometimes, just sometimes, I emerge a tiny bit wiser, for the things I've said.

Day 8

Stop

I thought of a couple of things I could write yesterday, But somehow they just didn't feel right to say.

And I realised something I should have known, That to force yourself to do some things can often be futile.

And it should be okay, it should be normal, To give yourself permission to stop once in a while.

Day 9

Elegy

What is an elegy?

I had to look it up when I saw the word.

When I found out what it meant, I felt a jolt inside as I realised It was quite literally heaven-sent.

An elegy is a lament for the dead.

For the ones who are gone, are no more.

And something inside me died as well, When I lost someone exactly five years ago.

My world changed overnight And would never be the same again.

Went dark like someone snuffed out my light, And you don’t know if it’ll ever come back on, Or when.

But it does, slowly but surely.

The light is never really gone, at least not once and for all.

The waves of grief do return now and then And rightfully so, But they come further apart, and each time they do They’re slightly less tall.

Death and grief go hand-in-hand, But they have a beauty we can try to understand.

To say so is probably a strange thing, But as I heard someone once say, “What is grief, if not love persevering?”

Day 10

Vast

When I start off with a blank page, Nothing else seems as vast.

I struggle to put down that first word, And then get stuck wondering if it's the last.

I feel it after every piece I write, That the words come from one emptiness And fill up this empty page, And I'm just a conduit in between, No more, but also no less.

Each time I also think That the next time won't seem so hard, And every time I'm proven wrong.

But I guess if it came that easily, Everyone would be a part-time bard.

Day 11

Protest

Someone I admire very much, said All forms of authority are to be questioned And every arbitrary rule, we have a moral duty to contest.

Well, I signed up to a rule that said I should write one poem a day, And I'd like to think I skipped the last few days in protest.

Day 12

Rainbow

Back in the day I used to think That we lived in a world of absolutes I don't know if I've grown up, See better, or am just jaded now, But I no longer think that's the truth.

Today, I think the world's a bit more complex than that.

And I sometimes see why people feel the need to pray.

For unlike my wide-eyed earlier beliefs, There are very few blacks and a few things white, But mostly in between there's a rainbow of greys.

Day 13

Warm

Do you remember the warmth of a friendly hug on a lonely day? the warm handshake with a familiar face along the way? the warm smile to welcome you back home? the warmth of life happening on streets you were once free to roam?

Yeah, me neither.

It’s been too long.

It still feels wrong.

But here we are, A year older, A little colder.

Day 14

Stillness

Back in the good old days When we could still go here and there I used to be a bit restless Until a year ago And then for a while Every day was a day the Earth stood still.

My life, like so many others Turned inwards.

And I realise In the stillness It’s still beautiful It’s still poetic It’s still life.

And it goes on.

Day 15, 16, 17

Need, Favourite, Love

They say all you need is love.

It’s one of my favourite ideas, If only for how simple it makes the world seem.

I think about it sometimes, whether they actually mean it.

Or if you repeat it enough times, You get yourself to believe it.

I believe there’s a bit more to it, you see.

Other things that need to come together as well.

Otherwise you might as well let it be.

If not, we risk getting stuck in endless nostalgia, Trying to relive what was yesterday, And tomorrow never knows What else it could have been And nowhere in sight is today.

Maybe it really is that simple for some.

But if the world really worked that way, All the lonely people, Where do they all come from?

Day 18

Burden

Now the long list of prompts They haunt me In my dreams A list of uninspiring words Taunt me Dare me To make something that's not bland Scare me That I've run out of thoughts and Things to say.

Not just things But things so far unsaid and Unheard and Unthought.

That is my burden.

Day 19

Meanwhile

Meanwhile has an interesting meaning— until something expected to happen happens.

It’s interesting because The entire last year, That’s how it makes sense.

One big “meanwhile” As we wait for the time the world safely reopens.

Day 20

Bucket List

Once upon a time, I had a fixed bucket list.

Of things I had better see or do before I die.

But one day when I looked at it, I realised I was pretty much flying blind.

I realised a fixed list is a pretty bad idea.

You see, the things it had only fit into one broad bucket— The things I already knew I wanted to do.

But what about the things I didn’t know about yet?

Or even what I didn’t know about myself as yet?

Today, this list is sort of an unfinished road map, Filled in ever so slightly, But even more exciting, the yet-to-be-filled gaps.

Day 21

Lost

The last few days have been a little tough.

I’m still trying to find my way to write everyday.

But my worst fears were realised, When nothing came to mind, and I had nothing I wanted to say.

As I usually do when this happens, I spent some time reading what others wrote and said, It’s good to hear these other voices, Especially when it's gone all silent inside your own head.

I find it useful to think Of half-formed thoughts as birds still figuring out how to fly Young birds I think it especially helps in times like these When my head’s gone quite And I’m quite literally lost for words.

Day 22

Instructions

Sometimes I wish I knew exactly what to say or do At any given point of time.

I wish I had a script to guide me through, At least with a few things I should keep in mind.

Sometimes I wish I lived in a film, And not an ongoing, only occasionally funny, improv bit.

I’m not saying it needs to be a blockbuster, At this point I’d even take a small hit.

Sometimes I wish I’d done a few things differently, And a few I know I never should have tried.

It’d be great if I could get some retakes, A few things I could go back and fix before I die.

I guess what I’m saying is Sometimes I wish the game of life came with instructions.

Or at least if we mess up a little, Can someone else fix it in post-production?

Day 23

Moon

In the past I used to think the moon must have a pretty sad life, With nothing to call his own.

No life, no light, Just a huge heart of stone.

I used to think he was stuck in second place Behind the sun, bright and vast.

Ever to be understudy to the lead, Destined to remain in the shadows he couldn’t even cast.

Now I see his phases of death and rebirth differently, I see now that his logic was sound, I see how it makes sense to get up and try again day after day, Especially if you have someone your world revolves around.

Day 24

Jasmine

I thought this prompt's the worst I've ever seen.

I had no spin to put on it at all.

I didn't know how or what to make it mean, A haiku maybe should have been my call.

It took me quite a while to find my way, I thought I’d try to dig a little deep.

To first go find me something good to say, And then to fix a metre and a scheme, My inner shakespeare didn’t know when to pause, Still hard at work to guide me through this mess.

And here you have a sonnet, just because, Iambic pentametre too, no less.

While Jasmine as a prompt is surely odd, I guess somehow it is a "gift from god."

Day 25

Broken

I think my pen is broken now.

Sometime I can’t get even a word out of it and I don’t know how.

But other times I’m not even trying and the ink just flows, And it’s writing another great story with twists and turns as it goes.

Sometimes it feels like it might actually be more powerful than the sword, And my faith in the written word is somewhat restored.

Butt other times it just feels like it’s meant to be a paperweight, And the few words that come really aren’t worth the wait.

Sometimes I think about if I should try and get a better one, And then maybe I can consistently get things done.

Yet sometimes I feel that it may not be the pen, And maybe it’s me that’s actually broken.

Day 26

Migration

I once read a quote by Carl Sagan, About how astonishing books are.

Essentiallu minds talking to each other, Across millenia and across generations of the human race.

He says writing is probably our greatest invention, And proof that humans can indeed work magic.

For what is reading a book, If not a migration of ideas across time and space.

Day 27

Reunion

We make the same mistake again and again Of thinking we have more time, and that things can wait.

That call you meant to make, that cancelled visit to meet a friend, Just around the corner, yet miles away.

When was the last time you met someone, And thought it might be the last time you meet them?

They might move on or away or be gone entirely, Or they come back but you may not be there to greet them.

I’m waiting for a hundred such reunions to happen, I don’t know if or when they will.

All I know is that there are a hundred voids around me, Just waiting to be refilled.

Day 28

Monsoon

Did you know that the word Monsoon Was first used in English in British India?

It meant a seasonal change in the direction of prevailing winds in a region.

Now, isn’t that some interesting trivia?

I can only hope the winds in this country will shift now once more, And start to turn the weathervanes.

But I also wonder what, if any, kind of monsoon Will ever be able to douse these saffron flames.

Day 29

Hope

Wish I could say more but I live in India Hope’s in short supply

Day 30

Daydream

I Thought I Could write a Happy piece to End this challenge with But I don’t think I can Act like everything's great And live in my own damn daydream When the country can't even sleep and Reality’s still a bloody nightmare.

fin.