Imelda May... A Tribute To The Poet.... Poem by P A Noushad ...

In the hush between a heartbeat
and the breaking of a voice,
he appeared—
not to dazzle,
not to be seen,
but to listen where others turned away.

Noushad did not write.
He translated silence—
the silence of black tears,
the hush of a name unspoken,
the breath between Imelda's sorrow
and the world's forgetting.

His verses were not built—
they were unearthed,
pulled gently from the ash and smoke
of grief's abandoned cathedral.

He did not chase applause.
He followed shadows
into their quiet sanctuaries,
and there,
he lit a lantern
for those too tired to hold their own.

And what remains
is not just a poem—
but a threshold.
A place where beauty kneels beside loss
and calls it holy.

So let this fire wander—
through pages, through screens,
through hearts that have forgotten
how to speak of pain.

Let it whisper,
let it burn—
not loud,
but true—
for those who feel,
for those who carry
the music
memory left behind.....