Stood below a banyan tree in the vicinity
On a cloudy night where lightning flickered
I envisaged the lighting across the street
Adorned to welcome the festival of light
And the wail of the newborn shrilled the air.
The roots set to bond deep
Through tap roots and prop roots
Offering to nourish and nurture
Nature leads and instincts act
And a mother is born.
Copyright© 2015 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
A pile of books fell,
Not because it was organised disorderly;
“A little more” of my expectation
From the rack I brought recently,
But could not sustain a day longer, broke.
Re-living the circumstance presently
“A little space” in my expectation
From existence to purpose lingered seemingly
A pile of me fell off existentialism.
Copyright© 2015 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
Stories retold
Of prince and princess –
Valour, honour and the victor;
Wars and lives
They chased ….
Stories recreated
Of man and woman –
Emotions, feelings and situations;
Chances and living
They faced ….
Stories reread
Of fictional and non-fictional –
Characters, representation and wonderment;
Idealism or realism,
I pondered.
And our stories?
Realistically conceived,
Professed, often;
Perceived and construed,
Told, created and read.
Each Soul on a journey,
Unscathed.
Copyright© 2015 Deeya Nayar-Nambiar
On an expectant full-moon night
The breezy evening light
Leaving inhibitions on the shore
I dig my feet into the sand
Writing the words of hope in anticipation;
The distant roar of the tides
I hear with a shudder but
The waves come calmly –
Collective messenger in manifestation;
Gathering words, rinsing feet and
Depositing strange travellers
Living and dead to hope in anticipation;
The spreads of blue with no distinct line
Past, present and future a transcendental straight line
I devour spontaneity
Layers of washed sand visuals
The mystic sea, resplendent.
Everything about astrology
In search of spirituality
Life is all about being curious, asking questions, and discovering your passion. And it can be fun!
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Variety is the Spice of Life 