Mother

Mother,

When I sit to write,

I’ve words that assemble gently ,

at times with an unknown assertion.

Each one a sentence,

Pages to many short stories.

Selfless and unconditional

Words of love and care,

Spiritual and emotional milieu;

Oscillating between a situational teacher ,

Otherwise a friend;

Lessons unplanned yet taught,

Each one a description.

From your scribbled recipes

And shared values of tradition,

There’s never a day without references;

I seem not to have grown any bigger.

But, I like it when said,

I look like you.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Yellow…

Flower

Bright side of yellow glows inside;

Seasons change, autumn shades.

“I am enough,” said the pollen

“Bright enough for me. ”

And hovered the bee.

                                        Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Red Rises

Deep down,

Snakes danced rhythmically;

A double helix pattern rising.

Strands of DNA vibrated

When lotus petals unfolded;

Deep red rising.

Overwhelmed with love

Jubilant Inner child sang;

Gibberish to ears, message to soul.

I accepted wholeheartedly.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Red Rose

wither

You gave me a red rose

 Every time to proclaim love.

I blushed red and gushed,

Remembering the day

We stepped into an arranged marriage.

Honest as always,

You declared your gratitude

To the flower seller –

His only stock of red roses.

I chose the vermilion, instead.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar