Portraits in a group of four

Perhaps remind of playing cards

The jester’s up and down

The Janus head

The shadow of one’s other half


Seldom consciously heavy set.

In life at times the portraits of

A few persons have impregnated


On the memory banks of the


They sit quietly in the folds of

His soul

Stirring to life unexpectedly

Like the Muse’s kiss at night.

Her portrait emblazoned on

The USB-sticks of neurons

Travels at the speed of light

When called up

Forever since her tragic death

Too early

Too mean and irrefutable still

To contemplate.

Killing two souls with one blow.

The artist left behind

Only survived by the skin of

His teeth

Had to climb a steep mountain

Back up to the Acropolis

Thrown off the ‘Sacred Rock’

With a quartet of faces

Onlooking Saints.

Hence such portraits will


As an ongoing remainder.




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