Poetry

The Great Renunciation

From his equipage, Prince Siddhartha descried,
A patient, an old man and a corpse;
Also a monk, who'd taken the untrodden path,
With all the loftiest hopes!

The four Portends he saw and realized life's only truth,
To be nothing other than change;
Man, beast and bird all suffer it alike, he saw,
While they, the value of life, range.

The path to ultimate freedom, then he plainly saw,
From those tenacious clutches of life;
So through the forest of ignorance, a trial he resolved to blaze,
And renounce the palace, the child and wife.

In his infinite wisdom, he foretasted the supreme bliss,
Which, he knew, the mundane life couldn't afford;
Then he saw it futile to indulge himself in epicurean luxury,
Or material wealth to hoard.

The Nibbutha stanzas, soon he harkened,
Which, from her balcony, a Kisagothami sang;
The tranquil wisdom her solitary strain carried,
In his mind, forever, rang.

The flame of craving, he now began to extinguish,
With his necklace bestowed upon her;
Soon he started to see through the fog of ignorance,
Which, otherwise, his wisdom's vision would blur.

Now he discerned the cycle of life and death,
And saw men were born only to suffer and die;
Freedom, he realized, he could only attain,
When he'd severed every attachment or tie.

The ugly antics of the slumberous dancers,
Further strengthened his resolve;
From the sight of the new-born and wife, away he swiftly looked,
Lest his courage should dissolve.

Change, he understood, was the only constant rule,
Governing every creature's life;
And he perceived that with sorrow and sufferings,
Life on earth was rife.

His bosom pal, he awakened from a deep sleep,
And Channa was his name;
Kanthaka, the staunch stallion he wanted to join them,
Who, posthumously, rose to fame.

All the transient pleasures of secular life,
He knew, no longer appealed to him;
So, upon horseback, he galloped into the eternal light,
Which the shadow of life could never dim!

Jayashantha Jayawardhana

The kingfisher

No man dies like in a flash
Of a kingfisher's wing's lash
Dead fish in beak.
Each man of family
Or of no family dies bleak
In an agony
Unless in soul-clasp
Dies like a saint light
In the kingfisher's flash of wing bright
Soul in beak's firm grasp.

Patrick Jayasuriya

Never-lasting

Amazed with that cold breeze
Passing through the huge trees
The silky layers
of the fallen leaves
Made up the way for you to walk on
Rushing shadows up and down
My anxiety raised on
the sign of your arrival
Eagerness and happiness
Kept my arms open
To welcome you

Drop by drop
Dropping like pebbles
The sound of your footsteps
Were reaching closer
A pleasant thought
Deep from my heart
Oh! that splendid hour one to expect
My greedy little eyes
Admired you at my door step
Longing for this joyous moment
To embrace you

In a few seconds
a prominent difference
I see a reddish, rough face
And the thundering voice
The burning rays
of the severe lightening
Fallen onto my face
The sudden demise
of my happiness
Prolongation of days, months and years
Still makes it difficult
To understand you.

Susi Abeynanda

 The orphan

Appa how tall will he be
Though little Ragu
As he waited in the camp
for the displaced persons in Wanni.

His mother told him
Taking him to her bosom
Your father will meet you
When you go to the Army camp.

He never saw his father
As many other children
Who live from day to day
Amidst bullets flying over their heads.

He and his young mother
And many others like her
braved the terrorist bullets
To reach the Army camp.

His mother and uncles
Died as they were shot
By their own people
Where they tried to reach the camp.

Ragu was lucky
As he could reach the camp
And he is waiting for the day
His father claims him.

Seeing to understand

I said I saw
Yet I have the doubt I have seen
True that I saw the eyes
Over the eye lids that are lowered down
And the rim of the forehead where hair was divided
Into two equal segments, to form one plait to hand along the neck.
Lucidity blended with shamefulness,
Clarity with determination,
Were embedded or excavated in.
I saw the rolling tears
Across the fair fatal like cheeks,
Once our eldest son was deserted in a room
For the disease, he suffered infectious.

You felt a pillow was hard for my sick head male
So offered the lap-cot and to recite tuneless wordless tale.
Scrambling fingers sowed, on the chest, seeds unknown
Whose roots weaved a net around the heart with a new dawn

I told I knew the rhythm of your heart
It was three decades ago me as blooming sprout.
If face is the mirror of one's heart
If still I haven't seen the face your smart
Will any one tell that I loved you really?
Had anyone told I was a lover to you truly

I pledge to undress colour multi lenses
'Needs and Wants' dazzling moods that mutilate senses
I try my better half! To see your face grace
And to trace all facets upon one surface.

Wasantha Thilakarathna

Just a dream

You all were my pride once
The greatest I could say
to watch you from day to day
Growing taller in a way.

Knowledge you fast acquired
thro' brains acquired by birth
Help you needed not much
given ungrudgingly as such.

Seeing the fruits of my labour
though I could rejoice forever
Wrong was I in my heart
Shocked was I when woke up
For it was just a dream.

S.J.

A soldier's thoughts

No time to think of a better life
My sweet children, my dear wife
My aging parents, who with time abide,
Their cherished hopes, with patriotic pride
No time to soothe an aching heart
No time to grieve when brothers part
No time to blink, no time to cry
No time to wipe a tearful eye.
No time to nurse a weary head.
No soft pillow, no feather bed.
No time to curse when things go wrong.
'Tis sheer courage doth make me strong.
No time to yearn for days gone by
No time to dream but do or die.
Country first and win we must
Pray for us! In you we trust.

S. Senaratne