The colors of the Rain

The colors of the rain, exploding
In a shower of glistening gems
Like tears from heaven, chanting
To the weary soul a requiem.

Like an ancient shattered crystal,
The raindrops fell capturing every color
Falling softly on the rose’s red petal
Stopping the lone wanderer in awe.

Liquid crystals reflecting a beauty,
The yearning in his heart grew
Temporal-Each drop narrating
A chapter of a story, ancient yet new,

Then for an instant in that one drop
Of liquid crystal, time was stilled
By the tale trapped within each color
Narrating itself, those dark eyes beheld.

The raindrops changed their rhythm
In a play orchestrated by Nature
Playing to the tune of silver anklets
And Time slowly faded away.

A buried torment was unearthed,
Mirrored upon the falling drops, the intensity
of the ache the solitary lover felt
In the iridescent reflection of a frozen tear,

Laughter was captured in mid octave
In the memory of that moment,
Even the warrior cannot be brave
Imbibing a sensual risk so potent,

A heart beating rhythmically
Synchronized with the crescendo of desire,
Orchestrating the release of every
Crystal drop, breaking upon the briar.

Of thorns woven into the delicate
Fabric of a life bound to his soul, but
Dealt a cruel hand in a game of faith
The silver anklets echoed.

What anguish he did perceive,
In that moment arrested in time,
To fathom the thought he did conceive
The fluttering of kisses, sublime.

Forbidden, yet with conflict,
Within a stubborn soul, treasured
In a dazzling display of color
Their depth and intensity un-measured

A many faceted diamond, trapped in that drop,
A dream, colorful yet unformed,
An unborn thought, struggling to manifest
Itself onto the guarded mind.

The colors of the rain, like a specter
Existing for a second in time,
Weaving a ghostly canvas
The cold wind sang sweet rumors,

The showers saddened by his plight
Stopped, releasing this lone lover,
A tear colored by the rain
Reflecting a tale of yearning,
And Love witnessed and felt
Forever eternal, caught in the rain.

Nandi----January 2006

Her Poetry

Awakened from her deep slumber,
By the mournful plea of lovers,
She arose, silently and gracefully,
With the splendor of a sun rising,
She laughed softly and held her pen

Destiny smiled to herself,
A flicker of mischief glowed in her eyes.
She toyed with the ties
that bound their souls,
teased their mind and fanned,
anguish brewing within their hearts.
With an expression glowing
with compassion, she wrote…

In a sliver of weakness
that crept through a fort of steel,
A solitary ember ignited
a surreptitious yearning,
That birthed a little ripple
in the rebellious soul.
In the complexity of a wish,
the illusion of a dream
Desire bloomed, suffocating reality.
Like a crimson rose, an ancient elixir
It lured the restless soul
into the unforgiving chasm of love.
The precious nectar, brewed
of forbidden fruit enticed her,
She cried out to him ...


The ancient ink flooded,
a worn and fragile parchment,
melting into it, immortalizing Love,
trapping her, within
the very thread of the parchment,
a mystical ink binding her...

She smiled at the submission
of her player, and with a twinkle in her eye,
looked toward the other…

In a stoic plane, restlessness was born
Immortal friction between two grains of sand,
ignited a desire that
engulfed the composed mind.

A passion brewing within
An infinitesimal cell erupted,
ripping through a dreary silence,
breaking his shackles of apathy, and
Sanctioning a trickle of passion into his being.

What was once the struggling rivulet,
grew, engulfing him, drowning him in a
raving ocean of his thought.
A justly wicked notion, conspiring freedom
sprung from a feral obsession
slashing the eternal bondages of his mind.
Feverishly he imbibed passion's potion
drinking this intoxicating concoction...
He beckoned to her...

So she laughed, and smiled,
her players succumbed to the game.
Weariness overcame her,
laying down her pen, she closed the book.
She looked on happily
as the players acted out their lines
Flawlessly, completing the script,
inscribed the passion of her poetry
in the immortal sands of time.


Nandi 03 - 14 - 05