Friday, November 04, 2011

A tribute to my friend Magalhães Pinto - by Tisha


It would have been Anton's birthday today,
but sadly, he suddenly passed away ,
on the 6th September 2011.

We shared poems, music, prose, chats,
and solid critisism about politics and politicians. 
He corrected many of my tentative efforts of writing poetry
in his native language, portuguese. 
His fine sense of humour
and his clear vision of world events
always amazed me.
His prolific writing of various books, articles
and blogs, earned him respect of a wide reading audience.
His refined musical taste, that he generously shared,
makes for unforgettable memories. 

His unselfishness has always touched me deeply
as a supreme sign of his integrity as a special human being.
His sudden passing away left a deep emptiness to his many admirers.

António Adélio Magahães Pinto
will be sincerely remembered for a long-long time.
RIP my dearest friend, Anton!



Thursday, October 06, 2011

"Tread softly on my dreams" - W.B. Yeats


".....but I, being poor, have ONLY my dreams,
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly.....
because you are treading on my dreams".
W.B.Yeats

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Spring poppies - by Tisha



Scarlet wings
in the wind,

glorious pride
waving in the sun;

Warm touch of joy
overwhelms the soul
and embraces the wind.

Plenitude of Life!




Thursday, March 24, 2011

The rising moon - by Tisha


The rising moon,
aglow as if on fire
in red and gold attire,
against the dark blue horizon,
calls for the nostalgic touch
of your burning lips,
on my softest skin.

A lone Stradivari
of bow and solo treble pitch,
sways on the moonbeams,
pulling my mixed-emotion
heart strings
while we breathe in the scent of violets,
with a musty perfume of moss and earth.

oh, I shiver, as I behold
the beauty of your eyes
in flaming fire
of deepest desire.

Oh moonshine bright,
look down on our plight,
yearning for delicious
fulfilment,
with dancing fireflies
on a bouquet
of sweet-smelling violets.



Carnal Apple - Pablo Neruda

‘Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,’

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

Pablo Neruda