Dom Moraes

(19 July 1938 – 2 June 2004 / Mumbai / India)

Dom Moraes
Do you like this poet?
40 person liked.
13 person did not like.


Dominic Francis Moraes, popularly known as Dom Moraes, was a Goan writer, poet and columnist. He published nearly 30 books.

Early Life

Moraes was born in Bombay (now Mumbai) to Beryl and Frank Moraes, former editor of the Times of India. He attended St. Mary's School (ISC), Mazagoan, Bombay, and Jesus College, Oxford University.

Moraes spent eight years in Britain, in London and Oxford, New York city, Hong Kong, Delhi and Mumbai.

Career

He edited magazines in London, Hong Kong and New York. He became the editor of The Asia Magazine in 1971. He scripted and partially directed over 20 television documentaries for the BBC and ITV. He ... more »

Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.


Comments about Dom Moraes

more comments »
---
  • franko (9/4/2018 12:40:00 PM)

    wow nice poem how should i get summary if it possible send me link

  • Vasana (6/19/2018 7:11:00 PM)

    A letter and sinbad of dom morace with their analysis

  • David Taylor (1/17/2018 1:45:00 AM)

    A great poet, with all that the word implies. Gifted with the ability to evoke powerful and dramatic images in all his poems, where the rhyme and the sense meet in a perfect blend of meaning. Read Dracula, the poem works on two levels. I feel privileged to have spent a couple of enjoyable evenings in his company and that of Leela Moraes his mercurial wife.

  • Reena modak (12/21/2017 10:07:00 AM)

    What is the name of Dom moraes

Read all 4 comments »
Best Poem of Dom Moraes

Absences

Smear out the last star.
No lights from the islands
Or hills. In the great square
The prolonged vowel of silence
Makes itself plainly heard
Round the ghost of a headland
Clouds, leaves, shreds of bird
Eddy, hindering the wind.

No vigils left to keep.
No enemies left to slaughter.
The rough roofs of the slopes,
Loosely thatched with splayed water,
Only shelter microliths and fossils.
Unwatched, the rainbows build
On the architraves of hills.
No wounds left to be healed.

Nobody left to be beautiful.
No polyp admiral to sip
Blood and ...

Read the full of Absences

PoemHunter.com Updates

[Report Error]