A Comment

My friend, I know you're a teacher, for the students, a great preacher, but when you come back at home, don't you see yourself in Rome? Keep for students your moral teaching. Come to the readers after total bleaching. Why don't you remain always poetic? Don't you have a balance at home? I know you are truly aesthetic, write a page of love and burn the tome. Even a word of love is better than a book, Have in a mirror your lovely nice look! (A Fantasy a great poem by Valsa George. Dozing on a hammock Strung between two towering palms With the sky above- colour washed in turquoise blue and the waters below reflecting that heavenly hue, you came to me sailing in a dream like the strains of a symphony causing endless vibrations in my solitary heart you showed up all too sudden like a rainbow on my vacant sky after a cloud burst of cloistered grief to blaze it with iridescent shades Your smile embalmed my bruised spirit with the coolness of a summer drizzle falling, like manna over starved Israelites in their arduous odyssey through blistering sands Your passionate breath, spewed on my face bore the scent of opening buds in the mazy tangle of wild creepers growing dense in nearby woods. Your amorous whispers fell in my ears with the sweetness of the melody from Krishna's flute with Radha near, love sick) her lips curled in an immaculate smile. Your soft footsteps like the jingle of a court dancer echoed in the silence of my soul with a hundred evocations As the jingles came nearer in synchronizing rhythm I held out my arms to clasp you in tight embrace and reel you in frenzied jig But you vanished, vanished, with the swiftness of bubbles rising and breaking in a beer glass, leaving me to my desolate zone The sky overhead had changed into another shade Still I lay in mid air, with my eyes sealed tight to re-live that dream once again!