Poetry
Since 2018, Chandi has published over 80 visual poems on books and social media. 55 of those were published on his book ‘Emotions’ (www.emotions2022.com).
See below for a selection of recent visual poems.
An Ocean, Lost
I long to meet you once again,
My steadfast neighbor,
From those island days,
Where your moods swirled with tides,
Your hues ever-changing,
Reacting to calamities,
Or crafting them in secret.
At dawn, you greet me with a whisper,
A gentle breeze through my window’s frame,
Hunger in your waves,
Reaching for the sun’s first touch,
As you send ripple after ripple,
Seeking the shore’s embrace.
By noon, you’re angered,
Your waves rise and yell, at times,
Your temper roughened.
On your horizon, ships appear,
Steady, gliding toward the harbor,
Undeterred by your wrath.
At dusk, you soften once more,
Long after the crimson sun slips away,
You gleam, serene and graceful,
Bidding a quiet farewell
To your blazing companion,
Till he returns tomorrow.
By midnight, lights flicker in the distance,
Fishermen’s boats, a scattered constellation,
While stars retreat behind the clouds,
And your gentle friend, the moon, watches over—
Except when she vanishes every month,
Her absence marked by your rising tides.
Soon, I too will return,
To the world where you reign.
In Search of El Dorado
Starved for gold,
Eyes blinded by the shimmer of dreams,
They chased whispers beneath the emerald leaves,
A fevered glint in hearts bold,
Conquistadors, dreamers, both drawn
To the jungle’s verdant breast.
Through tangled vines, they burned with torches bright,
Seeking cities soaked in gilded light.
Hope, or was it madness?
With every step, the promise grew,
A world ablaze with wealth,
Yet buried deep in shadowed green.
For centuries they wandered,
Their quest unquenched,
Countless souls devoured by sacred streams,
By secrets whispered in rituals lost
To the rhythm of the jungle’s breath.
A myth, a mirage, a gilded curse,
The vines entwined their minds.
Tales spun thicker than the forest,
In every shadow, a golden gleam,
El Dorado—the elusive gleam,
Forever slipping beyond reach.
Heroes made from thieves,
Their hands stained red, not with the promised gold,
But with the blood of conquest.
Their sins, like echoes, carried through time,
A legacy of dust, of dreams unmet.
Still, the legend lingers—
El Dorado, a beacon, an illusion,
Haunting, taunting,
Filling the hearts of dreamers yet to be born.
Rain
Thunder whispered a warning,
Lightning set the mood,
Then came the rain—
Pouring over my city,
A veil of mist lowering,
But still, the beauty lingers,
Of lights and mystery.
Thousands trapped in traffic,
Red lights glare,
Yellow flickers,
Green—hardly there.
Impatience bubbling,
Anxiety rising,
Frustration floods
As they wait, longing
For loved ones left afar.
Lights, camera, action!
I feel the coolness,
I breathe the freshness,
From my balcony
On the tenth floor,
I gaze at the mountains
And beyond,
A glass of wine in hand,
I savor the rain’s soft kiss
Upon the lights below.
