Dear Poet Friends, while trying to retrieve my old poems from ‘Poetfreak.com’ which is closing down by this year end, I found this love poem of mine which was composed in the year 2010!  Hope you like this short love poem where the beloved begs her lover not to leave, but to spend the night under the ‘shamiana’- which is the ‘canopy cover’ created by her dark eye lashes! Hope you like the same! Thanks, - Raj, New Delhi.  

UNDER THE SHAMIANA OF MY
        DARK EYE LASHES !

O my love, please do not insist on leaving me
tonight!
Instead, keep sitting under the shadows of my
collyrium-laden eye lashes,
Where you shall find peace comfort and
solace!
Please do not insist on leaving again, nor be
adamant;
Sit under the sprawling shamiana* of my
gazelle-like eye lashes,
Which I have spread beside the oasis of my
two brimming eyes, -
Whose bottomless depths reflect my love for
you always!
For here you may bathe to get refreshed,
and sip your sweet vine sitting by my side!
But do not insist on leaving me behind,
to remain alone in the silence of this night!

My love, let us sit and relish these few ephemeral
measured moments,
Granted to us by the munificence of merciless time!
For once gone, these moments shall return no
more!
Whisper softly into my ears those sweet words
of love;
Saying all the while how you love me,
How you cannot live without me, even though
it be against your will!
And transform this into a magical, mystical
night!
For even a falsehood spoken convincingly, and
repeated like a sweet refrain, again, and again,
Assumes the colour of Truth, I heard people say!
But your words shall make this lovelorn life of
mine worthwhile;
And all my efforts to possess you for the night
shall not go in vain!
                                              - Raj Nandy
(* Shamiana = like a tent or a canopy cover)

When it comes to ***...more often than not, women are the teachers and men the students.The woman shows the way..the man merely follows.The act itself is such an interesting phenomenon..it's more than just the physical part..it's mental,emotional and spiritual as well..it's an awakening of the senses so to speak..a stimulation of the body,mind and soul..a process of self-discovery..a constant learning process..a union of two bodies..two souls..two persons locked in an embrace filled with an immense heat of passion,love,trust and perhaps lust...engulfed by the flames of curiosity and an uncontrollable urge to explore..an exploration of the body..an exploration of the senses...exposing the soul and looking deep inside of it.However it's the period before the act..the foreplay and teasing that i find most fascinating...the pre-act excitement..the build-up..the anticipation...it's such an incredible experience.I have always believed that women are the best teachers when it comes to a lot of things in life..we men have much to learn from them.

fascinated i draw in my breath,
little murmur of content, i am life
and i am death, what is there
to prepare, what to unravel,
what happenstance to know?
how does the tide, desiring only
to rise and fall, to sweep the shore
and then drawback like a warrior lunging
with a sword, the death-cry obliterating
the sky, then pulling his arm swiftly back
the same fire in her heart, unremorseful,
unrelenting, bring me such rest?
i’ll forget all my loves except
for you, die like a warrior for love
because my heart is a rugged shore and
it carries the crashing waves and the
clamour of gulls because it believes in
freedom, and needs to hear the brashness
of the wind and the far distances of the stars.

Sometimes
we open
ourselves
in faith
in kindness
we unlock doors
in order to
let love
in
sometimes it
penetrates
all those
barriers
built up
over time
like ruins ensconced
inside the earth,
bones and stones
temples unknown
digging deep
we reach a point
where all passes through
into other spheres
then, before we know it
ever deeper
scything off of
       our fingers
into the night
as our hearts
beat ever so twirled
in togetherness
                     tender
Layers
shed rushed
often slow
and always flowing
in the glow
of emotion
and sometimes
it just explodes
all the pieces
tossed into the air
like a grenade
key removed
without warning
in sudden flashes
angel pieces
raining down
in smoldered slashes
fires spontaneously
forming out of what
was just
darkness
and all the
hearts' most
vulnerable places
crush in
velvet smithereens
upon the earth
broken pieces
of glass
sparkling
into the
supple abyss
of
knowing