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Poetry
A balm for my soul
My mind goes back
To the place I lived
Some years ago
Oh, it's wonderful
The loveliest sights
That pleased my eyes
Would never be soothing
My mind again. I want to fly back Whenever they flash upon my mind Being
fed up with things That now I meet with The memory of the lush green
lands Where we used to tread at day's end Was really a balm for my soul.
The joy of strolling along
The pruned tea bushes
And hours and hours spent
On dipping in chilly water
Could never be faded away.
Isn't it really a blessing
The Sacred Hill, of which
We tried to have a glimpse
Over the misty hills
Every morning?
I think I'm born again
To feel the same
But from distance
Now in a crowded train.
But I wonder
If it can ever give
The spiritual peace
I experienced some years back
Amidst the mystique lands.
- Harshi Wijesinghe
Thursday For Appachchi
"...I was a nuisance, tripping, falling,
Yapping always. But today
It is my father keeps stumbling
Behind me, and will not go away..."
Seamus Heaney-Follower
Thursday's I've always been in love with. Years go,
While schooling, when I'd be waiting for the weekend,
Thursday was always delightful harbinger to Friday,
The last day of the school week.
The attraction I felt for Thursday,
Over all the other days of the week had more delicate reasons:
Every Thursday, from the fair in the town, I'd expect
My father to bring those delicacies - jam buns, fried gram,
Peanuts, sweet buns, pan cake, wiskirigngna and the like;
My share of sweetmeat would await by return from school,
Dusty, stinking, soaked in sweat. After a brief face wash
At the well, and changed into a pair of shorts, I'd jump
On to my perch on the short wall overlooking the road
And begin munching my sweetmeat.
This was almost a ritual until I'd met
Her, who brought about a sea change in my hitherto simple life;
Thursdays became even sweeter then, as I'd be waiting for her
To return from the class, under the big jam-fruit tree by
The abandoned garage, and be accompanying her back
To the town; I'd return home late in the evening to eat my share
Of the delicacies my father never forgot to bring us on his return,
From the fair in the town.
Afterwards there came a time, when I'd grudge the very arrival
Of Thursday, for we'd part on Thursday to meet back on Monday;
But, as usual, I'd wait for my father to come back from the fair
To masticate sweetmeat, lying in my bed, recounting the romantic
Moments of the past four days.
More recently, I'd eagerly wait for Thursday
To dawn to return home from the metropolis; arriving home late in the
night,
I'd fish for my share of delicacies in the sugar bag hanging from a
hook,
Above the big table and eat it while watching late-night news or
A soap opera.
Now full time at home, I still await the arrival of Thursday with the
same
Childish eagerness to eat the sweetmeat, hoarded away in the bottom
Of his battered blue leather bag,
Hanging from the handle of his cycle.
Our home has all changed now,
Out of the six beds, only four are occupied now;
I've grown up; so has my brother.
It has all changed - the village, the school, the temple,
The boutique, the bus-halt and the cemetery...
My father is now a sexagenarian,
Of late, I've grown more obedient than rebellious to him,
My fear of him has now turned to respect,
My affection for him to concern.
- Jayashantha Jayawardhana
Rejoicing Mother Lanka
'The Pearl of the Indian Ocean'
Is rejoicing in an endless spree.
At the dawn of a new era;
An era colourful with
Dignity, unity and oneness
A one Sri Lankan nation,
Let us welcome
The long awaited,
Hard-earned peace,
With respect for each other,
Rallying under one flag
Saluting all our fallen warriors
Remembering with gratitude
Their Supreme Sacrifice
For a free and united Mother Lanka - Chanakya Liyanage
Cherry blossoms
Cherry blossoms that bloom in spring
Reminds me of your smile
A cool breeze in summer
Reminds me of your tender touch
A rainbow on a rainy day
Reminds me of the vibrant colours of your soul
Snow flakes that touches my face
Reminds me of your loving kisses
- Bertholamuze Nisansala Dharmasena
To a special friend
A lot of dreams on my mind
Lots of tears in my eyes
With a sad memory in my mind,
I bid goodbye to a dearest friend.
As strangers we met,
And became close friends,
A friend that made my journey to a new horizon,
with one hope and determination.
Understanding, to uphold the moments to eternity,
The feelings and beliefs,
Shared with understanding,
That your journey had come to an end.
I remember the last moments around the hearse,
Helpless but still remained calm,
Away from this world dreaming,
With a heavy heart for losing a dear friend,
May the Good Lord bless and keep you,
Till we meet again.
- Bernie
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