Poetry

Trees

Winds whisper secrets
Blowing through ranges
The mountains so filled with
Myriad kind of trees
Far away to the distance
Like blotches of green shade
Seeing their movements
Other than the glades
Wild birds perch to sing
To devour there fruity flesh
Emanating birdly calls
Swaying on stems to the wind
Far away in nuance of green
Their trunks fastened hard
Saving slippery loose soil
Never let it erode down
Sun shines bright on trees
Spreading penumbral shadows
Man and beast take rest
Beneath such greenish canopies
While the wind does care
Cooling the beneath lair

Miran Perera

Unmerciful floods

It's torrential rains once again
and the once dusty roads
are mini rivers now
bringing death and disaster to man and beast alike.
The dusty gaunt trees
have been washed clean
and they look refreshed beyond recognition
towering over the Sri Lankan urban scene.
The ghostly sky is frighteningly dark and cloudy
and excited birds fly about desperately
searching for even a morsel of food.
The unwelcome leeches too are active again
After hibernating in the arid soil.
The meandering streams and rivers
are swollen with murky waters
that cover their stony beds
and they hurriedly flow by
because the almighty rain Gods
have overfed them.
Helpless city and urban workers
ponder sleeplessly in their flooded abodes
throwing vain and hopeful glances
at the merciless sky
for signs of sunny weather
and displaced animals, small and big,
invade man's domains
and become easy targets of enraged humans
who revel in killing them.
The good earth too is yearning and crying
for the dark clouds to clear
and bring back life to activate
man once again.
But, when will this unwelcome rain cease
and bring back solace to man and beast alike?

Andrew Scott

The Cockroach

Interesting is the brown cockroach
it runs to hide when we approach
lives in piles of filthy refuse
but on his body do ants amuse!

When cocky dies the ants do feast
they carry it about as a slaughtered beast
munch a wee bit before going underground
and continue to eat until nothing is found.

Rohan Jayawardene

Siddhartha and Che

Go
During the night
Into the unknown
When they are asleep
Your kith and kin.

Moon will be
Your
Only
Witness

Thereafter
They will
Await
With bated
Breath
For you
To come back
With your
Conquered kingdom

So that
They can
Enter it
With you

Clinging
To
Your
Small finger.

Ariyawansa Ranaweera

Missed Love

To commemorate beloved Kasun who departed on April 30

Every moment....
when I feel sad....
I sit by my window
and think of you...

A silent tear
a silent fear
but no reason to fear....
coz you are here

Every moment...
when I feel happy...
I close my eyes
and recall your face...

A lovely face...
a lovely smile...
taught me every moment...
how to smile...

Every moment
when I feel lonely...
I think of my past
and think of what I missed.

Missing thoughts...
missing talks
remind me every day
that you have gone...

May you rest in peace Kasun!

Heshani

Mother's love and humanity

Taking her crying baby
Into her arms
Breast feeding her little one
Softly she sings

You are my little darling
My treasure, my world
with my nipple in your mouth
My blood turned to milk
Through love for humanity
I am feeding you now.

I am only your mother
You have a father too
It's our union
That brought you
Into this world.

Independently
All by myself
I couldn't have done it
My precious darling
But, the world appears
To have forgotten
That basic fact today
Of humanity being
A unity outcome

That's why they are
On man made divisions
Fighting and killing each other
Making man his own enemy
The only way out
Of this man-made calamity
Is for all to shower
Mother's love on Humanity.

Edward Arambewala

Hushed

No more, the deafening booms
That cause involuntary shudders.
No more the volcanic eruption
of land-mines,
that unwittingly provoke
silent tears
for fellow-victims
The quiet insensate tranquillity
He so desired
is his.
He lies in the eternal silence
that no reverberating war-drums
can e're disturb
The long quiet slumber
of restful peace
The vigil through the sombre night
The mother, father,
in their inexpressible grief
premonitory acceptance of the inevitable
leaves them mutely grieving.
Exchange of looks
in all the dumb agony.
Poignant contemplation of the inert form
The agony of the silence
Screams!

Jannette Cabraal

Learning

Gurudev reverend,
A symbol of peace,
Embodiment of tolerance,
Replica of non violence,
A limpid pool
Of congregated virtuosity.

You have bestowed upon me
All the learning.
The intricate aspects of
Four and sixty arts
And allied crafts,
Refraining in that process
From retaining a modicum of
Guru mushti.

It would now seem
Time for me to bid you adieu.
Which I feel constrained to do
With bleeding heart,
And heartfelt grief.

Prior to taking such leave,
Let me genuflect before you
To take the dust off your feet
In suppliant attitude
And submit that,
I am tangled in ponderous web of thought
Unable to ascertain the worth of the reward
I need to award you
As per the custom of my clan
In recompense
For your preponderant generosity.

Reveal O lad, who had been
Involved in learning with devout attention
And total commitment,
Being a role model of studentship,
The Guru pronounced:
"Have you imbibed learning sufficient
To be worthy of your prolonged
Stay in this Ashram?

My revolution O Guru,
The student answered, would be that,
"I know what I don't know
But I don't know what I know"

Contours of the visage of the Guru
Formed into an enlivening smile
When he articulated,
"Then my son you know
What you should know"
And that alone would be
A priceless prize"

Kamal Premadasa

Be good to all

Gentle breeze pleases living beings
Human beings content with joyous feelings
When breeze turns terrible storm
Horrible, it brings damages to home

Rain and shine true gifts of God
Both on Earth help grow our food
When the rains run to flood
Then it drowns life and food

The poor on mat gets deep sleep
Other on bed finds hard to sleep
Contented mind is the continual feast
Greedy for riches let one in unrest

Do good and be good to all
Follow this path without a fall
One did good lives forever
Other too lives but only there.

K. K. Arumainayagam

What to do?

What to do when I still remember you
But to kneel down
And pray to forget you...

Bertholameuze Nisansala Dharmasena

Pro patria mori

(To die for one's country):

Was this the end?
Did it have to be this way?
Was it for this day they dug the grudging earth,
And heaved its stubborn stones,
Her man and she, these many years
(And the harsh domestic toil)
To nurture the young lives
That issued hapless from her womb

First the girl, and then her precious boy,
Sampath, his name spelt wealth,
And so he was to her,
The hope she leaned upon,
A prop for them, father and mother
When they could no longer work.

He had seemed so frail, a fairy child,
A wispy, dimpled boy
Racing home to her from school.
Amme badagini, mata bath diyo.
Lightly he'd throw his arms around her,
And laugh. She had laughed too,
When there was rice to give.

The passing years brought many things to her,
The daughter's marriage, her husband's death,
Hardships and failing health.
But Sampath grew big and strong.
Was it the milk he sucked
A full twelve month and more
At this mother's breast
For the inhospitable earth
Would yield but little food?

And then he'd gone, striding away,
A handsome, straight limbed soldier
With his pack astride his back.
She shed no tears
Futile it was to weep. Jobs were hard
To find for boys like hers,
Poor and deprived.

His letters came bringing hope and joy,
"Don't cry for me, mother
It's a glorious life out here.
The hero's way.
We are fighting for our Motherland.
The devas will shower their blessings
We'll win this war. I'll soon be back,
And I'll take care of you."

But one day, they brought him home
In a box, sealed down.
His soldier's insignia upon it lay,
And someone, kind, had laid a wreath beside it.
The white blooms drooped and died
In the heat of the cramped, low-roofed house.
No pictures here of the handsome soldier - lad
Unless, perhaps images inviolate
Deep in the mother's heart.

They held her hands and told her
How brave her son had been.
"It's a glorious thing to die for our Motherland"
Words. They slipped away,
Fading echo like beyond her ken.
Long years of lean privation
Had dried the living sap within her
She had no tears to weep
There was just this searing pain in her breasts
That seemed to swell and strain
As if they'd burst.

The crowds that gathered
To honour the gallant soldier
Soon went their separate ways.
Alone again, she stood in the narrow doorway
Watching the monsoon clouds gather overhead.
The sky cracked like a shell,
And spat forth fire and storm.
She turned and went inside
To place the old clay pan
Beneath the steady stream
That dripped from the ancient thatch.

Was this the end?
Did it have to be this way?

Wishwaranee Nagahawatte