Poem by Dennis Dinopoulos


It has five strings, but there are no grooves,
nor incisions on the ‘Sarood’ to guide her fingers.

The notes are sturdy bunch, initially heavy-headed.

She likes to accommodate them up her sleeve,
as she allow her fingers to do the searching,
up down the strings, vying to tap
into that purity of sound, groping and exploring,
sensing and searching for the ultimate note,
so she may embark on this musical dialogue.


It is comprised of compliments,
is held together by the barest of threads,
moves in ever increasing scales,
to where time and space collapse
in a flora of musical symmetry.


On the stage she  extols precision,

epitomizes perfection, as she resonates
past life’s obscurities, slides over
and above darkness.


Her every note is perfectly delivered, highly original,
masterly developed by the human heart
with a mission to shed light upon God’s work.

From level to higher level, in consecutive circles,
rising in engaging structures, the music expands

and recedes in three dimensional space.


After the performance she informs us she’s
been playing since she was six years old,
but she’s still learning, she confesses,
and hopefully will never stop,
even though she is now living in Melbourne.

Poems by Dennis Dinopoulos published in Indika: