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

Colourless

Neutral

I float in a sea of space,

Colourless, odourless bay;

Who are you and who am I

Nurtures neutral shades;

Truth is called naked

Where nomads live fearlessly.

I hear my beating heart murmur syllables,

Mind awakens to present;

Meditative stage detours,

Reality a sea of constant mirage.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

Blackboard

Rectangle blackboard of secrets

Accepted dutifully, five petal flowers,

Lines and circle people,

Clouds of green and birds like “r”;

No price for imagination.

Black now blank, but not memories;

Images recalled frame, like a storyboard

Evoked emotions rekindle, little joys in adult life

No price for innocence.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

White…

Wind chime flirted with

White lace curtains

By kitchen window

That witnessed quietly

Fall of  milk and doused flame.

I was not burnt

But bore the brunt,

Tasting imagined flavours of crumbs and cream

That spilled dramatically

When the doorbell rang

And I stumbled…

Split of white second, a momentary bliss –

Mind couldn’t retrieve, though….

“All good?”

“Of course, just a pudding.”

Wind chime flirted, once again.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar