There are many repeated elements in these (poems),simply these elements are the muse that sustains my thought. My favorite form of poetry is the epic. From this I borrowed the style that narrates a story but due to a turbulent mind and a mercurial muse, many of these (poems) lack the length that is characteristic of the epic.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

The Window

Bared feet running through
the fresh wet grass
We yearn for this our entire life
That insatiable voice inside our hearts,
Laughing, crying, screaming,
Wanting to be a child,
trying with futility,
running against time
to grasp innocence
like an ethereal spirit,
toying with the mind.

how we yearn,
to once again stop in awe
the greatness of nature, to learn
her subtle lessons , her law
listening to her mysterious secrets.

To discover the fairy
sleeping in a daisy,
the little gnome,
mischievous as can be
hiding in our home.
To be trapped in a vortex,
without a heart of stone.
wishing, wanting
to taken back to a place, a time
When rain is still a blessing
still magical, haunting, benign
Speaking to every little beautiful drop
that bursts upon our palms.
in a single drop we can see an eternity,
a dream, a far away land of fantasy,
spinning, dancing that drop
Tethers on the tips of our noses
And falls as we laugh in the joy of the rain,
Imagine the sensation
Of running free in the storm
Allowing it soak into your every pore.

Now as we get older,
we stand by this window,
Still cold but this time
there is no laughter
We simply look out the window,
Like the spectator who can only look on,
but never be, an actor in this spectacular show,
Tears begin to flow slowly,
carefully, guarded, from eyes
That have witnessed too much
A mind that is restless
is deaf to the magical music of the rain
It only hears a forlorn cry
Of a lost soul searching but then
the drops keep splashing,
bursting singing their wonderful song,
it is difficult to ignore the intoxicating rhythm
that beckons to the sleeping child
within trapped in the wary adult...

Ancient and pure,
the rhythm of those drops
calls to the soul
pulling it back along Times eternal line
back to the heart of a child
standing in the rain,
and without a wasted thought,
inhibitions are dissolved,
in the magic of the rain and
innocent giggles pervades the air
as once again bared feet begin
running through the fresh wet grass

Nandi
05-25-06

2 comments:

lenguadefuego said...

beautiful and original poems

starry said...

beautiful poem. You write very well.