Category: Prose Poetry

Focus

Could you get me a glass of ice please?

Why?

Don’t tell me I need to give my reasons.

Yes, for every why requires an answer.

Well, wanted to check if it melts the same way.

In that case, it’s just the way question gets answered.

Spill not a drop

Not anymore,

For reasons may wary….

Their eyes remained focussed

Where the ice met the glass.

(Untitled)

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

Grey Matter

Every day she celebrated

Her life, as if her birthday;

Day, the birth of a new idea

Filtered through her grey matter

And spelled imagery.

Her symbolism not universal

And Yeats left his impressions when

She busied into curating Byzantium.

Some tweeting!

Her search….

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar