Best Naiad Poems
Written: January 23, 2024
__________________________________________
Their melodious humming drifts
through the fragrant night air
carrying a sense of tranquility
In this enchanting universe
where dreams come true
A delicate whisper
of silver breeze captivated softly.
Trees are lavishly graced
with azure iridescence
visualize an idyllic scene
that is truly magical
in this hypnotic realm
trees sway softly
as lilts chortle jubilantly
dryads are ecstatic
lullabies spark with
flamboyant emerald
fostering faith
in forfeited souls
lack within intricate
maze of their dwelling
scarlet nests tucked
high on twigs
An oasis of passion
where silence draws.
Lullabies load breeze
with a warm glow of opals
orienting dropped souls
In a mystery of
their abode once again
trees adorned with snugly
hidden crimson nests
a setting of love
where harmony sway
arbors wrapped
with stunning splendor
a vibrant tapestry
of dazzling majesty
their heaving hues herald
heaven with hypnotic hood
In this magical mannerism
musings mantling
In an ephemeral haven
of natural magnificence
dryads whirl and
trees sway peacefully
The winter-worn sky reveals a
faded, shimmering bronze and
gold shade, reminiscent of a
withered vermeil and naiad
fluorescent opals, paired
with scarlet demantoids in
smooth charmeuse enamel
mesmerizing maelstroms
of crystalline bonfire
flamingo flowers fit
with a fiery symphony
akin to the reverberations
of a silken folk melody
on the horizon
they shrink to hypnotic ink
scribbles on violet skyline.
The waves crushing her tiny body with striking blows
White creamy wash caresses her golden skin as the wave slows
Moving sluggishly towards the horizon
Because of a recurring vision she hopes she’ll arise in
Her feet digging deep into the sand as it sinks between her toes
Emersed, with arms folded she prepares and off she goes
The cool oceans breeze kisses her beet-red cheeks
It knows what she’s come for and what she seeks
Sunshine drips onto coppery auburn locks shimmering, it lifts
A pale honey-wheat straw sunhat spins away and drifts
Almost completely submerged in salty brazen waters
Compelled at this point with the nauticus mythic plotters
Shut against blaring sunrays are her deep emerald eyes
Her sunburnt face gazing up at vanilla skys
She meditates on what had before appeared, a glimpse
Of the siren with long flowing raven hair and other nymphs
Teeth chattering to tapping sounds like wooden castanets do
Contain her trembling lips she can’t, they turn purplish merlot-blue
Shaking from an Autumn’s cold spell, she imagines she’s a mermaid
But diving in opaque murky silt wasn’t what she had expected
Her bare flesh emerging from impure poisonous rot of green
Blood red ripples dripping from the clouds that are unseen
Neither she nor the fierce Cyrene, Apollos wife the naiad should dread
Numbing overcomes her at last she hears the siren singing in her head
Paralyzing fragments of her hallucination now bestow
A gifted sacrifice her (secret thoughts) needed for soothing waves to flow
In the distance a cranberry sun sets, now streaks of pink implores
A darkened blue-green sea, maroon and sapphire shores
A beautiful mermaid appears and thanks her for her secret thought
That only love for the deep blue sea (the ocean is life) and to all this be taught
In reservoirs, far underground,
where stalagmites are sometimes found.
In lakes and ponds and puddled pools,
in mist and marsh and snow that cools,
I hide beside my sisters.
In issuing springs that sparkle bright,
on stony slopes of shade and light,
to flowing streams that twist and turn,
past meadow banks of grass and fern,
I glide beside my sisters.
In river reach with rippling flow
‘tween rush and reed I always go,
to delta mouths both deep and wide,
which seas contest at every tide,
to glide beside my sisters.
In raging rapids torrents race,
or waterfall’s tumultuous pace,
in storm lashed seas, which crash and break,
on shingle shores that white waves rake,
I ride beside my sisters.
And who am I that rides so free,
who glides and hides so easily;
a mermaid in the salty sea,
a naiad or a white kelpie?
A water nymph you just might see,
me ride, beside my sisters.
From out the swirling surf
he plucked a maiden fair, and in distress,
whose innocence intrigued him so
that he could not confess in speech,
articulate her loveliness.
He took her to his breast and blessed her,
held her close, and quieted her fears;
it was as if she knew him well,
such recognition in her eyes,
as joy and peace didst dry away her tears.
They joined in union, enjoyed
the purest of all sacraments,
unsullied by lascivious display.
They blended, as a tree blends with the sky,
a fusion of the elements.
He was Poseidon, she a wayward naiad,
protected by his gentle touch,
a helpless waif in need of solace,
he the providence that calmed her,
proffered bliss she craved so much.
They were lovers found in time,
wanderers who claimed a home,
dreamers courting paradise,
bound together now as one
and sanctified, no more to roam.
Fables are told today
Only on past golden days
Love is what we’ll make today
Loneliness will be ashamed to stay.
Oasis as longs for rain,
Wacky me to get a swain,
Iambus we long to gain
Naiad I shall play again.
Gaiety will be brought back to gain.
Tabard you will be wearing
Hallucinating, spell casting;
Earnestly I’ll be waiting,
Surrounding your hypnotizing.
Ubiquitous glee will eradicate dark.
Never ending exquisiteness,
Rabidity seeing of such love you made.
Abashed cheek will make you a pearl
Yaffle of green love tree will sing a song
Sabbath will announce that holly concord.
Your hair gathered in creamy layered,
Mirror into style where the wind rose,
With liquid gold comb brightly flared,
Today embraces the color you choose.
Where your beauty goes with the glow,
Flapping in royalty reigns, we can see
The resemblance where the daisies grow,
Fringe smiling on that face many want to be.
You had a different shade a year ago
Tarnished with brush, rain, and snow.
I see your new look cool saturating hue,
Crown in the turbulent perfumed window.
Startling views fill with hairline curves,
Where have the black pearls design gone?
Give yourself dimensions with the magic drapes,
The contour of new chignon catching on.
Nature never needs to ask for change of light
Nor find reasons why the sunset has faded,
With warmth, your personality is shining bright,
Natural beauty and love make the finest grade.
Both Sunrise and sunset are reflected here
Different hairstyle reflects different personality,
As you look at the well-set glow in the mirror,
Braid lengths drift shortly with mesmerizing beauty.
By measure, the aim was uniquely different
The new look has found the place to display
Asymmetric flare, tease and renew temperament,
Of weaken flakes that last year’s texture blew away.
When the Windrush lingers on top of your head
And try to spoil your secret bun of loveliness,
Your naiad airs roam too indelible unfaceted
from the grandeur that your portrait possesses.
The dreadlock which flows down to the seas,
In freedom roll rocking from restraining view,
Tradition and celebration bring the world to its knees,
Crop clean, a fantasy that shall always be you.
"you are more than I deserve. It's a love I never dreamed I'd find. Happinesd like this is worth dying for..."
- Yasunari Kawabata-
Looking down, while flying midway between sky and earth,
I saw a dog on the grey tongue of an abandoned road,
Licking its genitals under summer-noon's hot slogan.
And I understood how badly I had drifted from your hills.
The hearth, that eatthen hearth, we often mended with butter-clay scooped out of a shallow river called "wahumkhra",
every time it cracked, pitilessly, after meals we managed to cook, sparingly though, will always remain as the only string that holds the chandelier of my fragile existence.
O that sweet hunger, how I yearn for it now.
The pallet of pine-needles stiched with old sacks,
on which we gathered dreams with smell of pine forests,
was no lesser than the priest's preachings on sunday mornings about His heaven's promised infinite sleep.
The narrow streets on which I doddered looking for work,
with constantly slipping away toes from outworn sandals,
while you waited for me with the blossoming seed in your belly, a future, full of honeyed beehives, over which I staggered drunk with restlessness of a beggar, for which I repent till this day.
I never knew, honestly, that I will become an irrelevant thread in the embroidery of jasmines on the hem of mekhala chaddar worn by a naiad, for the first time, shyly, when she attained puberty, and on the day of her subsequent gandharva marriage to an alchemist.
For the time being, I exist as a windless flag with no colors, neither white nor of any color known to mankind.
My soul and heart stay bled, like the butchered wings of Jatayu, but sweetheart, you will hear me flutter, sometimes, in the chuckling of a wounded squirrel and wailing of a cicada in the pine-hills where winds tease clouds, where you dwell reminiscing shadows of our silhouetting nonsenses.
Notes :
1. Mekhala chaddar, a traditional of Assamese women.
2. Gandharva marriage is one of the eight classical types of hindu marriage. This ancient marriage tradition from the Indian subcontinent was based on mutual attraction between to people, with no rituals, witnesses or family participation.
3. Jatayu was a vulture, in the hindu epic ramayana, whose wings were severed by ravana's sword, while attempting to rescue sita when the latter kidnapped her.
My love is like a corpse
Upon the gothic floor
Where I have wept till soul is dry
With eyes like corpses when they rise
Behold the sun which melts away
Dying daily with no shame
What shone what found I cannot say
But love is cruel in its way
A kiss like vampires delight
To feed so rabidly at night
As lips of tender crimson drip
Strange man should pine to die like this
And low a shadow in the trees
With moon—and sun upon her knees
Tis darkness in its velvet garb
The mother of my morbid heart
For there are shadows like to trees
They grow surplanting us beneath
Their roots are sorrow in our heart
Such is the macabre of their art
As when upon the listlessness of world
I roam or linger and the breeze
Has coughed and spat its mist on me
A kiss oh naiad of the night
Those lips have cursed my mortal plight
A kiss as soft as corpses breath
Imparting unto me
Some faint but mellow memory
Of love-as love is tragically
I have gazed upon her eyes to wonder why? For they have brought me a memories of another for I could not have. Yes, this is what I saw? Her skin black like the night that plays together as like passing, Her eyes brown that holds the mystery of her, Her lips light to touch form like those playful clouds children love to shape, Her nose speak to breathe but don't dare, The whole lining of her face for which it took the maker an life times to create, just so that whatever man true of heart may hold her all the days of his life. Her shoulders lenght to her arm to hands are beautifully form from what mejesty, Her chest made flat to hold the two mountains that are her breasts, her breasts like two circles that tenderly move ever so slowly as I tremble showing me their true form like babies out to play, Her belly like her chest flat but like with a masculinity of a well bound mother. How neatly shaped the hair on her garden , which show the flesh that has brought men to their knees. I alone desire to speak and meet, but she walked away with her Buttlock gently moving from side to side declaring her womanhood. For she is the Queen of a once forgotten kingdom, The Queen of the Kinglessking. The wholeness of her body spoke to say, Take this kiss upon your lips with the parting of you, thus this much let me avow you are not wrong. who deem that my days be but an dream, yet, hope has frowned away into the night, or in the day, or, in a vision, or, in none. is it therefore the less gone? For all that we see or seen, I stand amid a roar of suf-tortured souls, and I hold within my hands grains of golden sand, How few, yet how they creep through my fingers into the deep. while I weep! while I weep? O YAH can I not grasp tighter clasp? O YAH can I not save but one from the pitiless waves all that I see or seen? Her beauty to me was like those nice yoke that Genlty moves over a perfume sea. The weary way worn wonderer bore to her own native on desperate sea long to want. Her hyacinth woody hair, Her classic face, Her naiad air that has brought me to see her glory? O the grandeur that was lo in her brilliant willow niche statue like I saw her there? The agate lamp that is in her soul! (ah) Psyche from the region which are holy
I loosen my belt and remove my shoes
So, dear, what's going on in the news
They blocked the streets; tore down statues
No surprise there; of what were they accused
The protestors, nothing; but the statues held leftist views
What? What are you saying, dear? Now I'm confused
Honey, it seems that a staunch abolitionist was the first one abused
Huh? An abolitionist? For what was his statue so cruelly used
I don't know. He organized a militia to fight slavery; he was super-enthused
-- Oh, yeah. Hans Christian Heg; maybe one of those religious yahoos
Then that explains that!... Darling I'd really like to continue to schmooze --
But I promised the girls I'd help topple Arethusa of Syracuse...
Notes: Hans Christian Heg's statue was, indeed decapitated today in
Madison, Wisconsin. His 'crime:' He was an abolitionist who organized
a group of Wisconsinites into a Union militia in order to fight against
slavery in the Civil War... Go figure!
Arethusa was a naiad nymph of the sacred Greek colony of Syracuse.
Virgil felt that she inspired pastoral poetry. (Like the above... lol).
Triton:
We are here for the gathering,
For the awakening of our nearest stars.
We care little of what the other has to say.
We only want what's best for ourselves.
Nereid:
I've been dust-flexing for many suns now.
I grow weaker with each turn.
My level of solitude in the white realm, though,
Never feels burdensome
Naiad:
These are all things to consider
Loops threading our thoughts,
Like the music, we are waves and
Vibrations.
Thalassa:
Ssshhhhh
I am trying to sleep and
There are no more secrets anymore anyway
We are stuck out here in
Wonder and contentment
I contend to nap!
Despina:
Huusshhhhh...
Because silence is our friend
There's been no meteors,
No blurring debris for ages!
Let us be thankful...
Larissa:
I am thankful that I have you
And me,
And I'm thankful to feel thankful,
Though panels from other realms keep falling--
We are changing!
Proteus:
I will recite something I heard
right before my last collision:
You're going to get hit again and again
And again and you're just gonna have to learn to take it.
(Ahem). That's how I feel, I guess.
Galatea, Shepherd Moon, floated
Akimbo to the Milky Way,
Listening to the noise of the others
Listening to a universe of lovers.
From out the swirling surf
he plucked a maiden fair, and in distress,
whose innocence intrigued him so
that he could not confess in speech,
articulate her loveliness.
He took her to his breast and blessed her,
held her close, and quieted her fears;
it was as if she knew him well,
such recognition in her eyes,
as joy and peace didst dry away her tears.
They joined in union, enjoyed
the purest of all sacraments,
unsullied by lascivious display.
They blended, as a tree blends with the sky,
a fusion of the elements.
He was Poseidon, she a wayward naiad,
protected by his gentle touch,
a helpless waif in need of solace,
he the providence that calmed her,
proffered bliss she craved so much.
They were lovers found in time,
wanderers who claimed their home,
dreamers courting paradise,
bound together now as one
and sanctified, no more to roam.
Nap are my three kittens taking.
Napoleon stretching, waking,
Naiad naughty and quite faking,
Nipper so, so hesitating.
Natural love warmth they're bringing.
Need their sunshine and most loving,
Needed snuggles as they're shoving,
Nipping, to get away; rushing.
Nuisance at times, but adoring.
Nap time once more they'll be taking;
Nymph of nature when they're crashing.
As if humility were a legion of mercenaries
Descending rapidly over me as a scent of a lascivious woman
In my mind religiosity is a token given in your smile
The smile that often questions
The final indicia that separates wanting from needing,
Desirous from convenient,
Above all it creates an infinite duality
That emanates the giving within feeling
And feeling within willing.
The skin of the skinned is a testament
Given by the privilege held in a hand of a Naiad
Just like in the words of a ballade
Where the bell of a modestly erected cathedral
Boosts masculinity as the outcome of an affection
That cannot be beaten out of me
By purity of a random intention
Or by physical craving for joy, but
By a vestal attraction of oneness with me
When the emptiness of life is covered in a sandstorm
Of an endless, Poe like, dream within a dream.
Forget sitting in a corner of a bohemian pub,
Until the bottom of a bottle or a life is indicatively seen,
Or forget shuffling a stack of cards in a maverick style
To perform the stock standard tricks for chicks,
Rather inhale concord of an early morning
When the femininity is awaken, all seeing
When a dream becomes an axiom of love and in it my being.
.
'bout that fjord in
norway
that naiad
frolic'n 'bout it
who caused mine brief
lure
into thuh forest
tuh think i
jejune
regard wet
raiment
'twere
thuh fairy tale
yup
I mean
yeah it were
"she
lurrred me
with sweet redolence
and
wet linen"
thuh readz
tale
in all candor