Friday 23 April 2010


(to a fantastic poet, friend, fellow-being)

Serenades of purple darkness
Streaking from your pen,
Onto pages
Forming fragile images
And fractured tunes
On the night-fabric.
Rivers of pain,
Acid, ash, embers;
Orange tongues of passion
Splayed on walls of thought.
Whorls of emotions
Ensconced in poems, songs
Empty, filled.
Ebbing now, brimming again.
Strains of the forgotten music
Mix with
Strokes of the brush
Forming you
Unbridled, unconcealed
On your rampant ravages
Through space...

1 comment:

Neelav said...

you indeed have a gift ma'am...and as for the one who has credited such words from you, well, that's one lucky fellow.