Page 44 - January 2021
P. 44

Minuscule Pantomime




                                                 Jyoti Nair



                              Jyoti Nair is a poet who  won several accolades for
                                    her literary pursuits. She lives in India.






                  Her eyes felt some itchiness,                     Blinders taken off...
                  they have been blinking,                          The heretofore irrelevant,
                  to seive that queerness, a bit more...            that minuscule pantomime...
                  Queerness which caressed her
                  since a few days now...                           Evenings are destined to lit bonfire,
                  Moistened her dreary linings,                     and embracing embers...
                  for some Suns, at least...                        The twilight beam,
                  Even as peering conscience                        that he awaited and walked along.
                  tuned the radar by the minute.                    His coarse skin,

                                                                    polished silky,
                  Summer afternoons, sultry,                        yet husk vital-vitreous,
                  are usually the puddles that we                   by finger tips,
                  chuckle and jump over...                          carved by the Elysian chisel.
                  They may surface as quaint, rusted...             They are the clasps
                  rushed anecdotes,                                 chosen for him by the
                  perched on skirtings,                             Blue Nightingale, who sings
                  that we will deliberately avoid,                  through many skies,
                  to broom through...                               while Crickets steal some tunes,
                  Perhaps to save those dust laces,                 to stitch lullabies
                  when we write about                               for our stranded nights
                  reminiscing Lilies...                             when the Nightingale
                                                                    decides to sleep early!

























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        litterateur                            4                                         january 2021
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