Fireflies

04.01.2005

All is still in the stygian night
The welkin above is dark
When midst the stars that burn so bright
I glimpse an emerald spark.

Then another glimmer, another glint
Till at last a shimmering show
Lights the air with an eerie hint,
A mysterious and ghostly glow.

In a winking waltz, in a silent song
They swirl, all silvery green,
Among the slumbering leaves they throng
Betwixt the trees they’re seen.

Through the woodland and over the lake
They sail in glittering streams,
Pulsating lights, they leave in their wake
A world immersed in dreams.

So oft when fades the light of day
And a crescent moon does rise,
I quietly sit and await the play
Of the flickering fireflies.

The Indomitable Dreamer

24.08.06

I dwelt in worlds of fantasy,
On dewy webs I danced,
I drank the air of ecstasy,
By fairy realms entranced.

No mortal company kept I,
No being of blood and bone,
But magic spirits of the sky
And eidolons that moan.

My lofty thoughts were treasures rare,
My solitude - a jewel;
Those glistening glades, those visions fair
Were flames on rainbow fuel.

But they that question reveries
And aerial spheres disdain,
My fancies frail and dear did seize:
My heart --- it cried in vain!

A soul in sordid snares was trapped
That had sailed the starlit clouds,
And thus my pinioned dreams were wrapped
In squalid earthly shrouds.

They bound my breast with fatal ropes
Of prejudice and ire,
Choked with lies my cherished hopes,
Smothered my spirit's fire.

I bled; stabbed by their enmity,
Spurred by their spiteful sneers,
I bled to dead conformity,
I, who knew no fears.

Yet have I dared defy the norm
And broken free today,
I shall ride the winds and steer the storm,
I shall swim the Milky Way.

Some day another pair of eyes
Will to boundless seas resort
And seek like me immortal skies,
Inspiration as escort.

Now tattered wings I spread alone,
Restored with silver seams,
Alone amidst the men of stone
I shall live my opal dreams.

Maybe Tomorrow...

One evening sometime in the beginning of this year, I was excitedly telling my dear Papili (as I fondly call my father) all about an adventurous excursion I'd recently undertaken with a few of my friends. When my unremitting chatter momentarily subsided as I paused for a breath, my father quickly took the opportunity to advise me to start a blog.
"What's that?" was my first question. "What for?" was the next, rapidly followed by "But how? What'll I write? Will I be able to write well enough? Will you help me start?" And so on. It was my lack of self confidence that set me against the idea of starting a blog. But the idea was alluring (as are all things to do with writing) and it went around coaxing every part of my mind until -- here I am, unable to do any homework as long I haven't written at least something!

I seldom write because I'm perpetually afraid of not fulfilling my high expectations, and at the same time I worry about others' opinions, much as I hate to admit it. Even now, it's the thrill of starting this blog that's driving me to write, and even as I write I'm happily surprised at myself.

My father suggested I begin by putting up a few of my poems. I now think it's a good idea, but I don't want to keep basking in past glory. I yearn to create, and this blog is to ensure that I keep writing... well, at least once a month, for a start. So I've decided to follow the excellent advice my Russian art teacher once gave me when, as a result of a whole afternoon's struggle to sculpt a nose with a paintbrush, I was feeling terribly frustrated:
"Be happy, peaceful, and try, try and try! We never know when the right tints will come. Cezanne would say: 'Today I didn't manage. Maybe tomorrow...' "

They say tomorrow never comes so I've begun write now, however awful my work might seem to me, for who knows? ...If tomorrow does come, I might perhaps be just a wee bit closer to awesome!!! ;-)