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.

Monday, January 16, 2006

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

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