For Children of Polyhymnia


(Dedicated to Rachael Mead)

There my nocturnal repellent jar
Sucked empty
Here life blood too
One behind blood suckers
Another beneath blood boilers
Spent, done for, done,
Now my nights return
To mundane mosquito bites
And mysterious flying words
Stinging, evading, nagging,
Making a lesser uncanny hum
Than the Suns just gone by

There on a quasi trapezoid
One sips tea, sighs
Here on a quasi kite
I sigh, gulp in kinship
Each attempting to etch clarity
The geometry of life
Of an intangible familiarity
Of horror settling into the dusty carpet
Yet! Yet to bite the dust

Between flashes
Of fire flies between the brows
And loud claps
To kill winged blood suckers
What are nights made of
For children of Polyhymnia
And lovers of words?

© All rights reserved, Nivedita Dey, 2016

Rachael Mead is a dear fellow poet I very recently got to know and read. She is based out of Australia whose words can be read at

Do visit her site and enjoy her writings.

(Disclaimer as the Days might demand: This piece is purely a creative endeavour birthed out of moments, random reminiscences and poetic inspiration and executed with due poetic license and doesn’t intend to carry any direct or indirect intention to refer to or offend any person or place.)


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