Life And Times Of

There exists a magic in words that is always ready to lend itself to the

many whims of our conception.

When blended together to create new meanings that are separate from those

words as single units, they are like colours on a palette: Independent and

unassuming, until the artist initiates the creation of something absolute and

novel, birthed by what so many regard as conventional.

Just as Red (with its forceful brilliance), and Yellow, (bright and

inherently buoyant) coalesce to form a spectrum of orange that at one end speaks

of the deep warmth of a summer sunset; and at the other announces the potency of

whatever flames our imaginations may wish to fan...

So too are the words from the poets pen each sentence a distinctive

reflection of his inner feelings at the moment pen impressed paper. Designed to

invoke, provoke and at most times stroke the tender strings of emotion, in each

heart that possesses the will to understand.

Each man, however, is affected in a different way from the next. One may be

changed irrevocably, while another may pass his eyes over the same beauty, and be

impervious to it. Just as some may gaze into the night sky in awe of the

vastness of the universe, and others anxiously await the coming of light for

fear of the imminent darkness.

There is a level of intrigue in this humanity, and it lies in our

individual perceptions and our ingenuity in the mental scrutiny of them.

Some poets endeavour to diminish this potentially wayward reflection.

Others, like textual impressionists, offer a playground of piquant ambiguities

where we slide, swing and gambol to our delight, building endless castles in an

infinite sky; with the freedom to remould and mutate, both images and

connotations. In effect, bestowing us with a self styled theme park where each

ride