At first, pimply faced and shy to look and touch you took the stars from the sky and implanted them into my crisp clean English Essay as if the words were silhouetted in the embroidery of the night.
I was struck by this teacher who lived in a space that filled his skull cap with beauty in everything.
Soon the floodgates opened and my own words mingled with ecstasies and rituals of writing, danced across the page in rhyme and reason and spilled over into vast tracts of books and writings and thousands of printed pages all with your signature hidden in the prose and poetry of teaching me to search for meaning in every single word. What a journey.
Today as I shift some words and visuals into subtle pictures I remember the first ones you spoke to a shy little boy, afraid of others seeing his writing:
" Go dance with the delicate, spin magic with every sentence and dress those pictures in tailcoats and ties, so others may know that your pen is dipped in poetic polish of a special kind"
Thank you Bro D'Arcy. Author Notes
A tribute to Bro D'Arcy, my English Teacher at St Josephs College, Coonoor, who first recognised that my writing was different. The good man never ever made a negative comment and each time he looked at my schoolboy writing, he would delicately carve his calligraphic handwriting suggesting how better I could improve the language.
Sometimes, I would write and re-write a poem dozens of times until it merged into the best poem possible.
"Every word spoken or written with part of you in it makes you a better person"- Bro D'Arcy