Poetry

The right identity

A Sinhalese
A Tamil
A Muslim and
A Burgher
Make Sri Lanka one whole nation
In that nation we live
Calling ourselves
A Sinhalese
A Tamil
A Muslim and
A Burgher
Cannot we ever overcome
This way of thinking
And call this nation of people
Only as Sri Lankans?
How beautiful it would be
When we can all cheer
Under the Sri Lankan flag
The Sri Lankan race!

Arundathy Gunawardena

Communication reliquary

Endless hours
I spend
holding it in my hand
every feature
of the face
In quick succession
flash
The light of crystal clear eyes
The aquiline nose
The succulent lips
The soft shining cheeks
That end in near tapering chin
Transcending all abstracters
I'm transported
To your world, to commence with you
Whom the Unseen Hand robbed me
so early in life
When our dreams have been
of joyous days
Endlessly unfolding
This, the Reliquary
In which I hold
My communication medium
With my beloved beyond.

Victor Peries

The savannahs

I recollect, how I got absorbed
To be part of that life
A life appealing to heart
And satisfying
A solace to the soul,
A balm to the head;
Far beyond the horizon
Across the seas and oceans.

Coming from an unknown wilderness,
Roaring wind
Playing through the Nim trees,
Blazing across the emptiness,
Covering miles and miles of savannah waste
I listened.

My loneliness got lonelier,
I was lost in this world of whirling winds,
Circling, howling, and bellowing
The Harmattan
My small abode, an oasis
Encircled by the sand and wind;
Through the window pane, I watched
The Nim trees twist
A mist arising
A mist not of vapour, but of dust
Harmattan-wind blown Sharan dust.

I long to see again
The rolling savannahs
Where camels sway,
And donkeys bray,
The long flowing "Rigas" and caps
Bring to mind, the kings
Of days of yore.

Harmattan - A wind blowing from the Sahara desert
Riga - Dress worn by the males

Sunila Nanayakkara

The true friend

I saw you as a little one,
You gave my life so much fun.
I saw you grew to a bigger one,
So strong and faithful to everyone.

You ran with me like wind,
You were faster than the wind.
You taught me how to lead,
You never never failed.

I named you as "puppy",
Though you're not a puppy.
You lived like a bird so freely,
You lived without sorrow, so happily.

You faded away like wind,
But I'll never forget.
There's so much to get,
And you are the true friend.

D.W. Lilani Anuruddhika

The Christmas card

His face looked pale, his frame was frail.
But Sam, the notary was dead....!
No kith, no kin to mourn or wail
On this day not a tear was shed.

But Bruno, his pet canine half-bred,
By instinct knew his master was dead
Though death had stilled, the hand that fed
Fidelity decreed, that he stood by the bed.

His wife beloved, and erstwhile friend,
Florence succumbed to a cancer in her breast,
Though Sam had not seen a sadder end,
In total peace she doth now rest...!

His daughter Dill and his son Jerome,
Would show their love and fond regard
And would surely send yearly home
A beautiful Christmas card...!

This year too, from Down under,
The Christmas Card arrived in December.
But since old Sam was six feet under,
The postman scribbled, "Return to sender".

Kithsiri Weerasuriya

Physics

Physics means everything,
Nothing can't exist
without physics

The science of nature
the most amazing subject

Sometime it is shallow
sometime it is deep
But the depth is
very much beautiful

It is the invisible bridge
between all sciences

The language of physics
is mathematics
but the sculpture of
maths is physics

It is a major pillar
in chemistry and biology
it is the queen of science
it is the science of stray heavens
it is the science of
a dew drop
so, physics means
everything......

Ishra Afroza Mohamed

For a few dreams more

Yet another rise
From heavenly bed
To the crowded street
With warm moisture
Hating by consuming the sweat
Of people jailed in automobiles
Lacking the interest in
Sluggish, monotonous works,
Creativity far beyond
Living with cement walls and
Dummy shadows
Running with the Globe
With its own rotation
Stop, stop, stop

Should return to the bed
And bury in it
For a few drams of lush
Green lands and pinkish
Loving souls.

Ramu Ranasinghe

Golden ways

Those who doth speak the truth
accept that person so good
tongue twisted, poisonous serpent
bites innocent highly reckon

Great grand tops the lists
cheerful are they empty bins
Glamour, beauty, paint
Maketh one's thrilly fame

If - one talks only what he knows
If - one believes only what he sees
If - one lives on what he hath
Shines - above all - crown, sash

He who doth no rupture one's name
He who doth bear silently one's pain
brutal elements nor deadly weapons
sights not - a star above golden

Malathi Perera

Stork

The artful silent hunter,
Standing in studied silence,
With sculpture-like placidity,
Upon the narrow bank by the brook,
Keeping its painful poise,
Like a sharp sentinel,
Bides its time,
Watching the seemingly still shallows,
For the faintest sign of life,
Or the merest motion,
Of fish reaching the surface....

Ill-fated fish,
Swimming to the surface,
Find themselves,
Instantaneously, inextricably clamped,
Between the vice-like yellow bill,
Of the surreptitious snatcher,
Clad in the white plumage,
Concealing the falseness of its piety,
Or the speciousness of its sanctity......

His hunger satiated,
The ruthless reptor,
Shifts its poise,
And flies away,
Displaying its still whiter underbelly,
The plausible testimony,
Of every feigned magnanimity!

Jayashantha Jayawardhana

In extremis

Young or old, the completed life,
Like an old tooth or ripe fruit must drop
Even as, full and trembling on the extremity of a leaf,
Spills the glistening water drop
To be absorbed by the earth
In all its liquid worth

Patrick Jayasuriya