Jaishree Nair Poems
|121.||If I Had A Brother||3/11/2015|
|123.||A Day When Everything Went Wrong||3/6/2015|
|126.||Just An Ordinary Class Room||2/14/2015|
|127.||Those Were The Days||3/7/2015|
|128.||A Morsel Of Death||2/27/2018|
|130.||Wings Of Death||3/1/2015|
|131.||Seeking Solace In Poetry||3/3/2015|
Comments about Jaishree Nair
She sat on the chair,
Half inclined to turn and run,
The white reflected in the mirror
Her tresses golden and amber.
She felt a moment of hesitation,
Should she, or shouldn't she?
The final word given,
She waited for the cold blade.
Snip, snip, snip went the scissors
The tresses fell all around.
Long, brown shiny with a tint of gold,
She closed her eyes cold.
She opened and stared
Shocked-a stranger in the mirror?
Faint memory of a writer's childhood fear
Shingled hair-sign of cowardice?
She dreaded going out,
The Staff Room
A shelter zone,
for a few social builders
on the first floor
of an academic institution.
Tables and chairs arranged here and there,
books of various sizes strewn,
a shelf in one corner
to hold trophies rare.