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(19, April,1951 / kalubovila East, Sri Lanka)

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Death roams not only in the evenings

Beloved! We met in different costumes along this endless cycle of births & deaths.
We touched each other with secret whispers,
Then we discussed in a friendly manner about life, love, sex and fear of change, challenges and lot of things.
But the corrosive noble death obstructed our path.
He is the only person that never changes his rotten name
Comes with the same opaque identity
And who grabs our innocent personality?

I dedicate this poem to the deceased Sri Lankan celebrated poetess Monica.Ruwan.Pathirana

Submitted: Sunday, August 12, 2007
Edited: Monday, March 28, 2011

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Comments about this poem (A Bird Has No Wings In The Storm by nimal dunuhinga )

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  • Alison Cassidy (8/18/2007 7:02:00 PM)

    This is a fine, passionate dedication, to one who has obviously been a mountain to you. I love the way you personalize death - as the enemy who has slain your friend, and the line 'we touched each other with secret whispers' is beautifully evocative. A wonderful poem Nimal - one of your best. love, Allie xxxx

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  • Sandra Fowler (8/17/2007 1:40:00 AM)

    Very compelling. Death is one old friend who will never be denied. May the words of the celebrated poetess live forever.

    Always your friend at poemhunter,


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