(An exercise in Poet’s Companion: Write a poem about your room.)









These walls have pores:

They wear tears here,

Cracks there,

Pokes everywhere–

They’re so worn!






These walls have pores:

Cobwebs cover them in the corners,

But in the vast stretch during summer;

Ants march like obedient prisoners–

Those patriots of holes!






These walls have pores:

That if my room gets rate

Based on smoothness–

This is starless!

Perhaps zero is the score.






But though the pores in these walls

Are more than beehives or acnes can show,

My room is still a room

And it doesn’t need Aveeno nor Oxy–

That I’m sure!






Coz I’m here

Scribbling.

Notwithstanding the pores

In the walls,

I’m still writing my very all.