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POETRY
Goodbye my prince
Seasons elapsed - heroes returned
Home to share - families united
With freedom New Year celebrated
Yet my hero - you not returned
I am waiting to welcome you
I am waiting to welcome you
You kissed your mothers feet
The enemy you would defeat
You promised mother the victory
To bring the lion flag to the country!
Victorious lion flags fly high
You kept the promise it's not a lie
Mother land experiences freedom
You gifted peace to our Kingdom
There's festivity everywhere with dignity
But my heart is heavy with anxiety.
Though you are there - not here
We are awarded; said, "No fear"
Gifted us the ceremonial kit with badges
Sword of honour with shining medals.
Unbearable, the continuous waiting.
Heightened the mother's heart beating
And mother left us suddenly
Murmuring "Putha, Putha" feebly.
I hear the victorious drums and the boots tapping
My feeble heart beats fast with severe throbbing
By them songs of valour are sung
To the call of Lanka you obeyed my son
You left yesterday to bring tomorrow for us
Freedom and liberty are now with us
***
I came to where you stationed
Showed your photo and questioned
Your comrades were silent and dumb
I felt I was completely numb
My son come out! Where are you hiding?
Please! I cannot bear my heart beating
A young hero pointed his finger
Even a second I could not linger
A list of names you will see there
His name surely will be there.
You have secured the 7th place
In the list of hundreds in shiny glace
Wet eyes blinded my feeble vision
You have accomplished your great mission
Blurred eyes wetted my wrinkled cheeks - not annoyed
Be proud my son! the debt to your motherland - you paid
The marbled polished floor shinning
Icy-cold; yet my heart is burning.
In an air of solemn stillness, you sleep there
Lie your great grandfathers you can share
I know you are very weary
"Tired, exhausted but not dreary
Be silent!" the howling wind
My hero sleeps there - be kind
Mission completed successfully mother Lanka!
Let your son rest in your lap mother Lanka!
Sleep my son my little hero
Gun shots, blasts screaming no more
In thy mother's lap you soundly rest
My brave son your duty you did the best
Live with your motherland your first love
"For all the heroes my head I bow."
In this "Sansar" you be my son
Your debt to mother Lanka you have done
Good bye, my prince! my hero
We owe a deep debt of gratitude for you all.
Nimal Welgama
A Poet's Vision
I, a vouched poet
Entangled
In a lovely dream
A waiting with bated - breath
For some kind of miracle
To happen
Like the arrival of a peace - train
To take by gentle persuasion
All the renowned
And relatively unknown poets
To a wonderland
Where hunger of any kind
Is never heard of
Ensuring poets spirits
Reach the pinnacle of high - heaven
Composing in earnest, engaged,
In their life long love of poetry
Where their wealth is measured
Only by their elevated
Spirits of eternity
And not by the material wealth
Equated with landed property
And enticing bundle of
Bank notes of various denominations
Which anyway is marked and cursed
For their genuflection of
Easy virtues
Parading like scantly dressed
Models in a gaudy display
Of much flouted array of vices
Very much unlike
The everlasting kindle spirit
Of much loved and heart-warming
Recitation of poetry
Woven with the threads of
Simplicity and sincerity
Ranjan Amarasinghe
Recollections
Closing my eyes
I go back - retracing
A few decades
I see a little cherub
Hugging me,
Fair, beautiful, vivacious,
With pretty blond curls
Dangling shoulder length.
Smiling eyes
And a winsome smile
Loved by all
Where she once lived.
Little Kokila - now gone back
To the land of her birth
Taking precious cherished memories
Of happy times
Mixed with the fragrance of
Sepalika Manel and Olu,
The sweet taste of ripe mango
Jambu and veralu,
And of lovable friendly Sri Lankans
Memories that will remain
Evergreen
Of her father's homeland,
The land of sunshine and joy,
Picturesque Sri Lanka
Our Blessed Beloved
Motherland.
Sylvia Hettiarachchi
Blessed rain
Drip, Drip, Drip,
Drop by drop,
Rain comes down
From the Sky.
It washes away
All dirt and muck,
Stuck inside
The drains, in town.
It cleans and
Refreshers,
The environs
Much.
Making the air
Cool, pure and bare,
O' dust and heat
We all, share.
Without Rain,
Cultivation
Will be,
In vain.
Agriculture and
Horticulture,
Would be gone
For a Six.
And there'll be,
No water,
Even,
To drink.
So, Rain, Rain,
Please, come again.
And may God Bless us,
With abundant Rain.
C. Mohanlal de Mel
A Flood
The shrills of my neighbours awoke me from deep slumber,
A floods has devastated our village, our dwellings are in shambles;
With dismay I watch the calamity and could see my paraphernalia
floating,
I cannot retrieve them, they are sailing to an unknown destination.
Little boys are enjoying the floods rowing on makeshift boats,
Flood waters has exceeded and the affected are hankering for relief.
I am languishing on a rooftop with the other villagers,
Run to the temple shouts an announcer and get your clothes and food!
We make a beeline and rummage in the clothes boxes,
I find some fit enough for me: what a shame I think to myself,
One could become a pauper overnight.
Yasmin Jaldin
The Magpie
Of late I've noticed, a little black bird, singing in my backyard -
She comes indoors through my kitchen door and pecks at the fallen food.
She is cute and she's sweet, but, people say, it is bad luck,
For a single magpie to be around and seen.
Will you bring me bad luck? I hope not
We are good friends by now.
You sing near my window in a sonorous voice,
Early in the morning and also at dusk.
I tell them not to chase you away, and pelt stones at innocent you.
You are but a little lost bird, what harm and ill luck can you bring to
a grown up woman like me?
Yes, you heard me plead, 'cos today
I saw you with another little bird, perhaps you've found your mate,
Both singing joyously near my bedroom window, trying to draw my
interest.
'Two black birds' it's good luck to you, all seemed to say.
Thank you dear bird, I am happy for you and happy for myself too!
Laki Rajapakse |
