Poem

[Nachi2004]

In every adult there is a small child, whose afarid to grow up
into an adult
who is afarid of darkness of the night;
and getting into adulthood.

when that child sees the pains of the adulthood
he doesnt let go of childhood..like peter pan
he is afarid of adults too

we dont grow into adults as long as we make peace
with the child in us.

So bring out the child in you,
by letting go of the struggle
of being an adult who faces the world
but is too afarid to face the child within

Let your hair down and be the small
child that once you were even if for a moment or two
accept that you have fears and accpet that sometimes you want to cry too
let the tears come out or the innocent smile the way only a child can smile.

Look in the miror and see the child within you
wink at him /her and give him /her a hug
dont we get tired of being right and wanting to be right
dont we want to love ourselves for what we are
maybe we need to look in to the eyes of the child within us
and tell him that there is no reason to be afarid to became into adult
that you will carry him/ her no matter what.

You need not let go of their child
to be an adult for the child within you & me
is what they the wise call God.

**

This is a poem I wrote some time ago. As a child I saw and witnessed pain, and searched for words to bring them into to set the pain, emotions free..sadly I couldnt find the words then...it was only some time back that i started having confidence to write poems...I feel its a wonderful way of healing, attaining freedom.


With Love,

Nachi

[Nucking_Futs]

Nachi,

When I was small, we were not allowed to be children or explore what other children got to. We were to be seen not heard. Therefore, I alway's felt I missed out on so many thing's. So, I have never been able to let go of my inner child which can be a curse and a blessing at the same time. I took how my parent's raised me and have done my best to improve on the lesson's for my children. I figure if every generation does this then by the time my great great great great grandchildren are born my ancestors will make DECENT parant's. lol

*blushes* Sorry, I lost track of what I was saying lol the poem it's beautiful and it touched me as I think you can tell by the previous paragraph lol.

Hugs,
Cherity

[apcpapergirl]

Beautifully written Nachi
Hugssss

[Nachi2004]

Life

Life is
what the we
find ourselves in
one fine morning on waking.

It could be
a quarrell for a piece of land,
for a vain notion of respectibility.
It could be a wound
to an enormous pride


Life is
what the living beings
make out of it
through their own efforts
or efforts misappropriately place
resulting in a broken image
one finds in the mirror before him.

Life is
what one wants it to be
a
disgraceful man complaining on life
or a toothless smile of a old lady

[Mary]

Both are beautiful Nachi, thank you!

[Nucking_Futs]

I chose the toothless smile of an old lady It's a great poem Nachi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Nachi2004]

One night as a child I saw life and death in a different way..
Death then meant being in permanent sleep, slumber..
and life meant awakening from a night of nightmares
or a opening eyes after having some beauitful dreams..
What if then in being living now..I am living in a nightmare and being dead?
and maybe I will be awakened to a life only when this nightmare ends?


The wise call the 'reality' unreal
can it be then what we call reality is when we sleep
when our thoughts ride in our dreams..

Pain, suffering brings us death and a ghasty nightmare brings us to awakening
can it be one and the same?

Have you pinched yourself going through your reality to check if its a bad dream?
Sometimes the reality feels like a bad dream..
and at that of the night some nightmares look so real..
Its hard to choose between the two..

The hands pound on the wall of night to beg for some light
can there be a morning after all and can there be life?
when will this nightmare end and when will i begin with my life?

**

I still remember that time of the day..when as a child I was thinking about life and death..and saw this before my eyes..

I would pretend to be dead never thought I would make it to my present age..


Have you ever pinched yourself to check if its reality or a bad dream? or sometimes a nightmare seems so alive than the life itself..


Nachi

[Nachi2004]

What is your dream the spirit asked,
and then I replied,
My dream is to fly in the abandant sky
speading my wings to the full,
breathing in the fragrant air
with the wind caressing my hair,
soaring in the sky.
My dream is to be the boy that once I was
and run without limits on the seabeach
to find a boundless spirit in my chest.
To be a beautiful butterfly
so that to kiss the flowers with my lips
and carry the sweet honey,
spread the polen to all directions.
To do all that I can and to Love much as I can.
My dream is to Love a wo/man
not as a man but as a spirit
To look for the heart and not the body.


And then as I chant my daily Prayer
uttering the beauitful words of the prayer.
I dream to find God/ess within me
gracing the faults in me
and to fill the womb of my heart
by residing His Divine presence in my heart.

My Dreams..


With Love,

Nachi

[Nachi2004]

Under the Walnut Tree -- Lynn Martin




When I face what has left my life,
I bow. I walk outside into the cold,
rain nesting in my hair.
All the houses near me
have their lights on. Somewhere,
there is a deep listening.
I stand in the dark for a long time
under the walnut tree, unable
to tell anyone, not even the night,
what I know. I feel the darkness
rush towards me, and I open my arms.

-- Lynn Martin, from Blue Bowl

This is such a lovely poem. Its about pain but the pain is bitter sweet..

its about grace..embracing the darkness.

The Poem speaks to me everytime I read it..and I find there are such creations that reach out to you...speak to you like no one can.

[Nachi2004]

The Sigh of a Tree



A woman’s sorrow. There are many references to her sorrow.
She reminds me of a long worn tree stripped to only bare naked branches
She bares no fruits yet she longs for the blossom, the fruits
Her heart aches at the sight of kids clinging to the branches of those other trees.
For those trees have branches filled with fruits and flowers of every kind
She lowers down her branches in vain hope that some child would be tempted to ride upon
her shoulders but all she manages to get is those nasty kids who rip her of her
branches for furnace for the festival of Holy


No bird sit on her branch, Young couples have no sight for her. After all she
has nothing to offer to anybody except her love.
The Clouds do not stop by her its not their fault
They have been taught to rain only on greener pastures where the soil is in its youth
Sometimes a stray cloud does rain on her but I suspect the raindrops are nothing but tears of sympathy.
She does not need your sympathy O Megha,
All she wants is a drop of LOVE, which will sink beneath the wrinkled land
and reach the roots of her heart.

Her womb yearns to bear a fruit that she can call her own or for a tender flower
All right if they do not happen to be the fruit of youth
She does not care whether the world will laugh at her being a mother
All she cares about it to have a soul-filling moment of being a mother
She’ll give them all the nurturing love with her roots searching for every drop of rain and soil


Does a tree ceases to be a tree just because its not beautiful.
Is beauty nothing but an attractive face or is it the warmth of a loving heart
Is it passion of youth or a compassionate inquiry of heart


We live in the city where everything sells on merit of face
We put a price on everything don’t we?
There is a price for beauty n price for soul
I don’t know how much a loving heart is price though
Is it measured on weight of kilo, or the tears shed by a forlorn heart
I am not acquainted with the market place you see
Cause I am just a wanderer with no copper in my purse
I have but only a heart that weeps for a tree which bares lonely braches.


In the crowded market place of this world everybody has ears to word spoken
by mouth who’d understand the sigh of heart
Who’d listen to silence when nobody listens to even the voices anymore.



DearHearts,

This is a poem about Kujba. An ugly woman. she is not princess beacause princesses are always beautiful...or if they are ugly it is so only because of a curse...makes me wonder how we brainwash and curropt children...to think like adults..to think that beauty in a person is about beauty of a face, mind..

There are products that are sold in millions of dollars to make some plain looking woman to be beauitiful and fair skinned..

What for? what does fair skin and attritrive face or smartness in mind has got to do with who the person really is?

Why this insane chase for perfection? and who would bear to the vanity of a perfect person? Is it not our imperfections that level us bringing equiminity in relationships, love?

Anyways, I think I should calm down a little bit..you see I like to come up with the talk inside my brain..but i dont know..

There is something I want to talk about..maybe I'll ask it to you later.

Hope You will like the poem

With Love,

Nachi

[apcpapergirl]

Excellent Nachi
Thanks for sharing

[Nachi2004]

The Circle of Love.

Meeting people far and between
completing circles now and then
only to have the waves of sea wiping even the trace of it..

What does it take to make this circle of love..
and why is it hard for some people to finish it...
While some lucky ones have all the chances/hands that they can get..
why is it then some are left behind to draw the circle by themselves.

It takes two hearts/hands to be in love to complete a circle
why then some people are left with the waiting for the other hand/heart..

How far can one go in search of such heart/hand..
meeting up with the distance of time, space
and how long does one wait for the moment to come..
to have someone to help us to finish the circle

**

[Mary]

Thank you Nachi for another beautiful poem!

[Nachi2004]

One day as I was reflecting on my life lived so far
I realized that I hadn't really lived my life
and then I had a thought
just as I saw all the people that I knew
carrying on with their life having found some references to live with in their life

and I became so angry that I punched my desk
and said to myself
this wont do..this simply wont do..
lets make a list of the references what one needs to live and
find them and lets start living life before it ends.

So I took a pen and paper and started writing, compiling the references..
So I said..Life begins with breathe so I wrote it down...to breathe freely
and I started breathing heavily for next few moments in and out..
but it didn't end there for it would have to be done throughout my life..
so this item would have to be kept unchecked


then I said...maybe there is Love too..
so I wrote..To Love..as many as I can..
and I started loving everybody..from the next instance..
and I loved plenty..in hope that I will help them blossom with my love..
but not every steam turned into flower
and some flowers had big thorns that cut my flesh, heart


then came learning..I wrote it down
and I said.lets learn whatever there is to learn in life..
and I read books, people minds, hearts, and mine as well
and as I read more and more of all of these..it dawned on me..
that the knowing never ends.

then came a tough part...for it involved money
and I wrote down money..
but it wasn't easy earning money as it was to write it down..
sometimes one had to cheat ones own soul to earn money..
and it required more than just skill, honesty & heart..

So I got more angry than what I was at the start of the list
for I couldn't done with even one item in my list so far.
so I tore the list the into small pieces
and now I live just how it was with me all this while
from moment to moment from darkness and light..
in love and fear..just by being myself.





Dear Ones,

Namaste,

For years I have been wanting to write this poem having bit humor and some pain in life too..involving my life journey and how I wanted to find those references in my life and fulfill my life with it..and its such a paradox..the list, references..and our attempts..

I was reflecting on it on Sunday. as again not sure whether this is a complete poem of not..maybe there is something missing in it..I don't know..what matters is that I created something...gave a life..three poems in one day!!!

It took me months to write, come up with one poem..so today i am excited..lets see..if these poems have any life in them or not..

Love Ya All,

Nachi

[jimmmaaa]

Hi Nachi,

Great Poetry!

Your poetry reminds me of a poem I wrote a long time back about the same topic of the Child within:

little child

The little child in me wants
to scream and shout. He
was hurt badly; he
wants to come out. He tries
but I stifle him. The pain seems
too much for me at times, so
I try to ignore, suppressing it
or just pretending I am fine--
when I'm not.

I need your help, Father.
Come to me; reach down and
hold my little child in you arms.
Comfort him, rock him to sleep,
rock me to sleep. Sing a
beautiful lullabye, softly and
sweetly in my ear.

I don't want to fear the
little child in me and the pain
he carries.
Show me the way; guide me
to wholeness. Unite me
with my little child; make
us one.

I fear; calm my fear.

Little boy, please come out
and cry.


July 6, 1990