Poetry

Meaningless

Layer after layer it comes up
And goes down
Wave after wave it rolls up
And breaks,
My thoughts that murmur
Into its past memories
When the whole world is sleeping
Being enclosed in a single cover of mist
When a round of stray dogs
Barking their honeymoon songs
Amidst the mid night ghosts
I keep my eyes open
In lonely bed in darkness

When I was six they were in their thirties
Now I am sixty six
None of them are in their nineties
Thus forgotten regardless.

Layer after layer they came up
And down into the earth they sank
Wave after wave they were rolled up
But vanished in spirit
Into the darkness
Of the endless Universe
Meaningless.

Oh dear me,
Today is my granddaughter's birthday,
She is six!

- Lt. Col. P.A.D. Albert

Let will power work

Most venerable Arahant Mahinda, you came all the way
To my country Sri Lanka, on a Poson day
You foiled the Monaroh's game; he was on a hunting spree
Addressed him "Tissa Tissa" a top boulder
in the shade of a mango tree

The saffron robed Bhikkus baffled the king
"What brought you here? Do you need anything"
Mahinda Arahant with his wisdom saw
Devanampiyatissa as a king unspoilt and raw

Matured was the king's vision, he could grasp when told
The legend of the Dhamma, as a Arahant Mahinda
could unfold For the very first time history records,
a king had bowed To Ahimsa, when he accepted the
Triple Gem and vowed

Since then man has come a long way
The same planets are with us today
But where on earth has the Dhamma fled
Are they alive, with the nobles that are dead

It's time the ruling government at least
Thought to free this country from slaughter,
both man and beast
Great Arahant Mahinda, our politicians, have only to will
In good faith the necessity to abstain from any kill

- Vinitha Karunaratne

I saw a black man

There was sweat all over him,
He worked with a light which was dim.
He rubbed his forehead with his palm,
I saw an injury in his arm.

I saw marks of a whip on his back,
He covered it with a heavy sack.
He bent with the weight of the heavy sack,
A man hit him and said 'bad black.'

A bell rang which said an interval,
He rubbed himself with a nice white towel.
A bench was nearby which
he sat and laid his towel,
And looked at the board which said 'school.'

A black boy came to him with a parcel,
I heard he's his son he called 'Marshal.'
He fed his son and ate himself a morsel,
The food which was in the parcel.

I saw kindness in his eyes,
I saw that they had eaten rice.
They talked quietly like mice,
Though he's a black man, I know he is wise.

D.W. Lilani Anuruddhika

Dedicated Soldier

My son I implored with you not to enlist in the Armed Forces,
Not adhering, you said it is your ambition;
I hid my despair and anguish lest you be discouraged,
You said this chosen career was to serve your Motherland.

Clad in uniform when you bid me adieu to take up your assignment,
You looked the picture of your father sadly lost in battle.
I reminiscence the day your father bid me goodbye;
Now, you have tread on his footsteps.

Your dedication to duty is utmost, I suppose makes your epistles so short,
But, you could give me a tinkle now and then, which would suffice.
Whenever I take a morsel you are unaware that I cringe in sorrow
Thinking of your well-being

By your comments I could vividly imagine your ventures,
Since childhood your were adventurous, and
I am positive you seem to be enjoying the combats,
Whilst I, your poor mother lives in awe,
Anxiously awaiting your arrival.

- Yasmin Jaldin

Rambling Echoes

Moments captured fizzle away
Encounters assault afresh -
You're perplexed and
Confused

If life is momentous
And living: Only
From movement to movement
Or from moment to moment
It's elbowing you
Out of concrete
Consciousness - Oh
Where are you man?

Experience
Of the human predicament
Drives you
To recreate
Inwards
The tragic and the sordid
The bright and the 'Beau'
Of it

Alas!
The cynic and the skeptic
In you
Shut you off
From the magic
Of imagination
Leaving you cold

Felt experience
Is authentic, true
But
Wisdom -
Whatever it means
Turns you down
And so, within my shell
I scream -
Just WHAT shall I do?

- K.S. Sivakumaran

Anxiety

Living on the brink of insanity,
Sanity just a hair breadth away,
Wondering whether the plunge
is imminent or never,
Uncertainty turmoil, confusion,
all jammed and bottled up,
When is all this going to end?
Is it only at death or within the walls
of a sanatorium?

- Laki Rajapakse

In His abode

We met in Wesley's hallowed hall
Strangers then, but soon to find
A love and joy that grew to hold
A fragrance rare.
In Cartman's day, we faltered not
To give our best, in mart or hall
Proud to see the double blue,
Flutter high.
We often mused - had we not met
elsewhere?
So deep we felt our love enriched -
But did not ever understand
Its mystery!
So we laboured on with prayer entwined
And solace in our mutual hearts
Till circumstance, left us apart -
In fond adieu.
And now you've gone - in answer to
The summons to our Father's home;
Farewell, dear Soul, till we meet again -
In His abode.

- H. Shelton. A.T. Peiris

Power of Sublime Love

Love and hatred
are like a boomerang
when thrown
returns to the thrower.

Life without love
is like a tree
without blossom
or fruits,
and

Love without emotion
or romance
is like flowers
without scent
Then again,
they say-
Love is an eternal power
hidden in one's heart
that opens
like a day lotus
in a misty morning
and throbs
like running brooks.

- Sunanda Mahawela