Music and song were at the fore
Watching, waiting for the right time
to score. As was escape, mainly to
explore. The mind transcends
but, always Here. Listening, right
to the end. Now, no more.
Paintings hung. Lighting fixed. Mo: No more.
Yet, he left a legacy and taught
generously. We will continue to uphold
the privy lessons – So obviously
zen like in the manifestation – Beautiful
and precise. Behold! A delight.
Art transformed in the Gallery delight.
Jaytissa and Chandrasekera bathed in
glorious light. Mohan dictates, A bow
he takes. The end results in a gasp
of wonder. Applause. Sometimes, rain and thunder
Opening night: guests mingle, drinks sprinkle, music jazz jingles.
Many teachers had he, the three M’s danced a jingle
Mike, Mahen, and Manik. Finally, Druvi.
(Quite the shaman guiding from Minali)
Ships sailed to distant shores, adventures.
Experienced Hendrix and then some
Traversed the world mindfully done
Home south to manage a hotel well done!
With wife and a child to be.
Successfully run, all had fun
Then came the JVP
Problems arose, the hotel closed
Back to Colombo, five aunts and he.
Met at Dom’s in 1991. A gentleman was he
Gave me a pipe. Then Topy died
and Jerome sang, praise be!
And (a fool on the hill)
706 emerged, behind Barefoot, luckily.
Space to see, with music and art and hilarity.
Mo was instrumental in running the gallery
A giver, a lover, a rarity
A giver, a lover, a rarity.
This is an amazing poem. Very interesting way of writing. You really feel Mohan’s character.
kapila
beautiful.
you wove the words ,
And I am caught -In its threads,
Lost in a weave-Intricate,
beautiful!