You ebb the waves of despair

When cold disappointing frustrations
Focus my vision on horizons
Of almost infinite arctic sameness
Whilst the winds of searing cold
Blow in storms to inscrutable heavens,
Relieved, perhaps, by a forlorn seal
Or a pathetically inadequate camp
(In which some explorer had once had tea),
When depression strikes my soul
And makes it slink to depth
Of abysmal despair,
Making me ego-centered to shun
With suspicion social contact,
Regardless of the efforts of friends
To draw me from the quick-sands of misery,
When despair harrows my mind.
To picture the arid burning sands
Of a monstrous treacherous expanse,
Relieved by a pre-historic rock
Or a courageous yet futile cactus,
Or else the delusive beckoning of a mirage
Sans an oasis within possible reach,
You, my love, find the formulae
(Encrusted, perhaps, in a Pharaoh's prophecy
A thousand years before Christ
Intuitively grasped but functionally perfect)
To alleviate frustrations and relieve depression,
To ebb the waves of despair to tolerance levels,

To cultivate the arctic and irrigate the desert
And thus transform the receding mirage
To a soothing reality of solace
With a steaming cup of golden tea
And the warm glow of silent presence
Or with quiet words of unhurried wisdom
And unobtrusive understanding affection.
O! My Love!
You revitalise my soul
And fine-comb my mind
To normal rational thought
And make me enjoy once again
Decent humane aspirations
And find my joy in simple things:
Like that wondrous taste of cold water
Only a thirst-ridden camel can know.
I visualise then that innocent freshness
Of the mildest showers of a timely spring
Or the arresting welcome of a blossoming rose.
Yet again, I feel that soothing joy
Of the softest rays of a morning sun
Or the purest notes of the song of a bird.
My tensions ease and happiness flows
Through the micro-grooves of my sensitive nerves
To smooth down the lines of a furrowed brow.
In humble mien I yet realise.
That under these deserts both ice and sandy,
The sustaining wealth of consequence may lie.

PLN de Silva

The world of my own

I waved at the train.
It marked the departure of the world I knew.
Then I was in a strange world.............on my own.
This is life. I sighed........

I carried my bags and turned around to start my journey.
And of course it was my turning point.
I saw them. I met their innocent eyes.
They were full of hope.
I smiled. They laughed.
could a smile be so comic? I wondered.
I stepped forward, they came running towards me.
The next moment I was on my knees.
I could still recall the sheer joy I experienced.

When I first stepped on the land of sorrow I had my doubts.
I was different then.
But now I'm content. I enjoy.
I swore never to return to the world "I knew"
Until I change this land.

But why?
Because a few pairs of sparkling eyes changed my world for me.
This is the land which "knew me"

Niroshi Jayasekera

Life

To the fire flies the moth
Knowing not it will die.
Little fish bite the hook
Knowing not, danger lies there
But knowing very well the danger
Of the ruinous worldly pleasures,
Anticipating momentary happiness
We cling to them so firmly.
Oh, how glorious is our folly!

Malini De Soyza

Lonely hearts

Cold clouds are falling down
On the lonely streets
Whom shall I call
To sing the heart-breaking song....

The stars which showed us the way
No more with us they're hiding away
Has he heard my heart crying
Are the angels awake today....

I hear in the lonely streets
The birds are humming silently
Have they been singing for me
The heart-breaking song meant for you and me.

Anushka Nanayakkara

A tribute to the nuns of yesteryear

Sri Lankan girls, when education was
denied to you in the past;
Clad in robes in modesty and dignity:
Arrived your rescue at last.
Holy Family, Good Shepherd under
various orders they came
To enlighten our dear native isle and
bring much fame.
Opening schools for girls was their
aim that day;
By hook or by crook they managed
it I say.
Let's ponder: The greatest task they
had to face
To bring girls out of homes and
in schools place.
Canvassing they trudged from door to door
And soon won the hearts of parents more and more
Girls of all nationalities, cast and creeds - whoever they be?
Filled the schools: There was no restriction then you see?
Free education, meals to the needy they rendered
In secret: Unknown to those that finance lendered
No difference was made to the poor or rich
All were served with the same spoon-No hitch
Down memory lane let us tread
To the convents of the past era gone ahead
Sinhala, Tamils, Burghers, Muslims, Chinese, Eurashians all
Side by side did study in one great hall
Peacefully, happily the days sped away
Leaving memories: To ponder later some day
Let's go down the corridors of time
And recall our doings within those walls so fine
Grandmothers of today nurtured in convents big or small
Harken, harken to my clarion call
Let's join hands and a tribute pay
To those great mothers who paved our way.
A century and more did they toil;
In the blazing heat of Lanka's soil
To give to us of all their best,
But now alas are gone to
Eternal Rest

Norma Perera

An experience of an opening bat

I walk nonchalantly,
into the middle,
to face an enemy of eleven men,
and take first strike, bravely.

The new ball hurtles at me
with terrific pace,
I swing the willow,
only to miss and wonder why ?
the next comes high, I crouch,
the missile passes overhead,
I breathe a sigh of relief.

The third I watch with care,
and caress it so gently with the willow,
It hurtles past the eager crouching men,
and hits the distant rope behind.

I breathe a sigh of relief,
and think of my loved one,
beyond the ropes,
amongst the faceless crowd
of noisy men and women.

Arjuna

Storm

Sharp, luminous jets of white,
Pierce the sky. Lashing out,
Against the lush landscape.
Full of black silhouettes.
Of innumerable trees,
With their leaves and branches.
The Earth dances.
Throbbing with life, absorbing the rain.
A treat for my eyes.
I am watching the beauty.
Of it all. Transfixed.
The thunder crashes.
Trying its best to frighten me.
It is night time. I am not afraid.
White light with its intermittent spells of dark.
I observe. trapped.
The rainfall continues to sigh in my ears.
A strong mesmeric sound.
Intense by nature,
An ecstasy to my senses,
And the storm rages on.

Namali Fernando

Notes of a writer

Accumulated over many years
I have stocked my sorrows
I think they are safely hidden
Only known to myself
Through passing time they enlarge
In silence I bear in fortitude
At times they hurt me badly
I often becomes dejected
Depressed, alone, and cornered
I must write, to write in verse perfect
To let go my emotions before it bursts
I should write lines of poetry.
In perfect harmony with the mind
I must make others read
Letting others know through verse
Rythm and Rhyme in attempt
To blend and make perfect reading
I must write to express
For others to enjoy in empathy
To make others feel in unity
Making realise the success
of expression with felt emotion
Let others find in my writing
What they look for and search
To enjoy good writing and reading
Let the writing of others influence
People like me and fellow writers
To make perfect our choice poems

Miran Perera