Night

It slithers in like a venomous snake,
As daylight dims, darkness crawls in
Engulfing the earth in
An untainted virgin silence.
It Calms an anxious heart,
while the mind sighs.
Tranquil moonlight soothes troubled senses
as dreams idly, lazily begin to form,
Tales of mystery, love, horror and fantasy
With these surreal visions,
windows of ecstasy open.
In the calm of the night,
a concept in life becomes clear,
some reason for being
As the moon in all her glory,
An empress shining her radiant light
Slicing through the darkness of the night.
Night, for some , it is the best part of the day
When nocturnal predators hunt sleeping prey
Darkness offering their only refuge.
They cower and await the morning
Which will awaken their senses
And lessen their fears
As daylight swallows the darkness
And the sun brightens the night.
Nandi (1997) . (I was 15 do gimme a break:D)
I had forgotten about it until two years later when I found this poem in my diary.

Desert Dances

A phantom mist rises slowly
Over the parched barren land
A lone bloom, enamored with the tranquility
Takes a solemn bow, to the gracious hand.

A whirling pool of magic
Is born , as a beautiful sorceress
Spinning an enthralling lattice
In the sepia sea, she dances.

The Air begs a somber moment,
A storm is approaching
Promises like whispers, torment
The little Flower, waiting.

Like crystals from heaven,
The sky sheds a tear
A weeping mother, sins forgiven
Feeds her babe, her precious with care.

The little bloom stands his ground
With a strength that would sanction
Samson’s tremble and Hercule’s frown
Drinking this magic potion.

The flower like a lone soul,
Longing for his lover’s kiss
Drinks every drop as it performs the role
Imbibing a nectar, drowning in bliss.

For this moment rare indeed
Heaven takes a sigh and Nature prances
Apollo looks on with pride, and Wind rides a steed
Around the little bloom in the Deserts’ dances.

Nandi
03-31-03

Time

In the horrific episode of a tormented past,
A rather peculiar apparition drew its form,
An old bowed head trudging along,
Sickle whispering to unleashed thoughts,
Slashing their shackles, exciting the mind
from whence they were wrought
He wandered along, unforgiving, watching
A bent old man trudging through a wilderness.

She held a tear, wanting to be strong
In a mysterious merciless abyss
Trapped in a plot to which she was bound.
A torrent of excruciating eternal memories,
Coerced her to beg Fortune’s kiss.
Like a lost soul she wandered along
Losing herself in a seditious bliss.

The ancient one smiled to himself and trudged along
In the chaos she had lost herself,
He found a path, steady, ancient, strong.
Slowly he walked, each step deliberate and planned
The sickle a luminous specter,
Slashing the ethereal memories.
He stopped once, after the storm
and Embraced the bewildered child.
Startled eyes open slowly,
As a peculiar sight welcomed the dawn,
And the sun shone brilliantly on
The old man and the child as they walked on.

Nandi 09-05-03

A little voice

Sometimes there exists a moment
When a frustrated mind stops to ponder
About emotions absent, and dreams forsaken
Time ceases as the mind admits it blunder.

I see a spirit bent, but not broken,
enthralled by the revelation
that in me there is a sorrowful little child
A pitiful little apparition
A bit afraid, timid and docile.

Dreaming of a journey, Alas!
A winding path manifests before me
An inviting course mapped
And begins with shattering this cage
I long to be free, yet I am trapped!
too terrified of turning a depleted page.

But in the soul there is a little fire
kindled by a curious heart-wanting
to embrace the world and taste desire,
from their clutch, longing to depart.

To this child a promise is made;
little one, fly if you dare
but let not innocence fade
trust your heart, abandon this fear

Savor this life, a charming offering
Imbibe in the nectar of time,
flourish in youth , this is your spring!
the ropes of repression, will slowly untwine

A captivating melody begins to play
When time drops his scathe, and takes a breath
the world will remember this day
when a stubborn sun refused to set.
And watches as the child begins to dance,
And with life , commence a romance.

Nandi 09-26-02

Above Man

I exist in every woman,
I am the essence of what you love in her
empress of that land which you dare not enter.
I am diabolical and will take all that you can offer.
Promises I make not, yet you want me,
because you will have no other.
I will break you And laugh while I do.
Your heart I'll steal, spirit I'll trap.
My slave you will become
but Love I will give you not.
I am part of every woman
I am what makes her sensual
desirous to your lecherous eyes.
You wish to be my emperor
this dream of yours will never be true.
Instead , in front of my altar,
ego broken, on your knees you crawl,
like the moth snared by the flame,
you burn in your own desire.
You loathe this in every woman
because you know that I am there,
An independent being whom
you dare not address because
you know that in her lair you are useless
true to her beauty,
your heart she'll arrest
this cruel judge, your empress

Nandi 09-30-02

An Apology to Poetry

On writing poems, there is a distant image in the back of my mind that slowly takes form as I begin to write. Some of the descriptions and alliterations may not make any semblance of sense to the reader, but it simply humble attempt on my path, a mere description of the thoughts in my mind and the emotions that I experience. Some of these poems are compilations of feelings that have built up over the years and they are all tangled in a web of thought and emotions that are sometimes a bit overwhelming so I may not be able to pinpoint a particular idea or state exactly what I mean, I even find myself writing against what I feel, somewhat of an antithesis to express an optimism against a sometimes dreary world. Some poems express ideas, views on what I wish should be and some express fears. A poem is a way of expressing a though, some thoughts may be raw and some bitter, in poetry I try to save the reader from the rawness of those thoughts, I put it in a descriptive flowery way that will leave someone with a feeling of completion rather than pain. sometimes the rhyming schemes are skewed and the descriptions a bit bizarre, but in my mind as I write each word, it flows to my ears because it is like painting a picture of that image emerging from the depths of my mind, what I would sacrifice, in writing would be the rules, that I leave to masters of this art...I simply attempt to state what I envision and trust.