Wednesday, 7 December 2016


What was it?
What was that thing
that danced all over keyboards
leaving paw prints in rainbow colours,
what was it that spoke 
of a heretic being stoned
and roses so soft
they cut glass?
What did rasakinda extract
in an absurd wrapping of heart?
What was that time
which passed as fragrance and syllable
in a cosmic synethesia —
a strain unnamed 
on account of rarity
and dismissed
as the mere ramblings 
of a lunatic
miseducated and lost

in territories too barren to map?  


  1. What ? Why ? it may necessarily not you .But reactions of "pain body" within yourself .So forgive for your self as well as others.Lets move on.

  2. This poem somehow reminded me of this, written by you - one of my favourites. Found it today in my facebook page.

    And of certain leaves
    it can be said
    that one side shines
    and the other coarse
    one pleases eye,
    the other too dull to note
    one to touch, the other to forget
    one for the mirroring of smile
    and the other for spider-web ,
    and time and wind
    whisper and love,
    dust-coat and benevolence
    these un-identical twins
    were born conjoined
    in the hip of truth
    and thus too will they perish.

    - Malinda Seneviratne