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POETRY
Ramazan Festival
Muslims all over the world celebrate
The Ramazan festival with contentment
Of heart after pious observing of fast
They realize the hunger and thirst
Of the poor who suffer without a relief
They pay Zakath to the poor and needy
As an act of obligatory Ibadah in deed
Zakathul Fitra is an ideal practice
By all Muslims to share others' grief
Spiritual training gained in Ramazan
Paves the way for discipline in worldly life
Visiting kith and kin soon after Eid prayer
Refreshes family relationship and unity.
But, the excessive exultation and jubilation
On the festival day will invalidate
The spiritual attainment of Ramazan fasting.
M.Y.M.MEEADH
Landmines
It has no destiny
Play hide and seek
To kill human life
To scatter bodies around
To crush bones on the ground
And cover the earth with flesh and blood
Enjoy seeing man
Without hands and legs
In wheel chairs, crutches
And artificial limbs
Mocks around who are whole as fun
shooting vehicles to fly
To see heads hung on the sky
Man spends trillions
To destroy man
Just for an inch of land
Or to keep him up, as king
Some do this, wholesale
And others in retail
Killing as a business
How many do we have
To destroy and destruct
To win this cruel game
Counting on the dead and handicapped
To burp out in satisfaction
To see the burial path
Will the wild dismay end?
Before the world's end?
Or will man eat man?
For his greed and avarice?
And leave this beautiful planet
Barren and bare
For nobody to live and share
M.N. Kaiyoom
Good - bye Winter
Winter dances around me,
Promising to live forever,
Knowing, spring is waiting near....
Alas,
Yellow leaves fall,
Snowy flakes fade
In a wailing manner.....
Suddenly,
The flowers bloom with fragrance,
butterflies roam humming songs,
Breeze wanders cooling the heart,
Rain falls with newer hopes,
Rainbow colours the life,
Heart fills with newer feelings,
Moon sprays love and purity.....
Oh! Spring has stolen my life
After many gloomy winter days.....
Sashikala MORAWALIYADDA
Fate of a father...
He sells halves of Jaggery,
To the people passing him,
In the street,
Wearing an old white shirt
And a white sarong,
And having an innocent
Helpless look....
He sits on the pavement
Near the doorstep,
Of a reputed hotel...
That may be...
The easiest,
And the cheapest place,
For him to sit
Freely....
He shows the halves
To the passers-by
Stretching his feeble arms
From dawn to dusk
But no one buys them,
And passes him
Rushing......
May be to their work place
Or their way home.
The rich and the learned,
Who pass him,
Do not look at him
Like many others
Who do so....,
May be, the quality of product
Or the matters of health.
But my heart weeps,
Seeing his attemps
To sell the Jaggery,
Stretching his bony hands
To those who do not care...
A father of some one,
Or some others,
Neglected, rejected
Forgotten and ill-treated,
After having his service,
For years and years
And letting him suffer,
At his old age.
Shows....
The fate of a helpless father,
Struggling for life.
In a society,
Where money is high.
And virtue is low!
DMAS Dharmadasa
The flight
We remained standing
Ram-rod erect,
Gazing at each other in silence.
Inarticulate, we remained so,
For a long length of time.
Just looking at each other
With faces vacuous and expressionless,
Preventing the eyes from
Welling in vapourous tears.
Muffling the emerging
Sighs of lament.
Amidst din and sonorous clamour,
There prevailed a silence.
Under the projecting
Bright electric lights,
There prevailed a murky gloom.
We remained standing
Ram-rod straight,
Inarticulate.
It was time for the flight.
I didn't kiss her.
Hug her,
She didn't go on bended knees
To touch my feet.
She just looked at me,
With eyes bright and flashy.
I turned and sallied forth
In the direction of the plane,
Leaving behind everything
That was within me.
H. Kamal Premadasa
Stop the press
Scrap. Scrap the strap.
Leave it plain. Bare.
Without meaning.
Solitaire like the peacock
Without its tail;
Minus the very essence
Of its beauty and meaning;
Like a cricketer without
His helmet.
Open to attack.
Get black marked.
It isn't fun to get pulled up.
In front of the heads and tails
In a busy editorial.
Where headlines scream.
Where the strap lines intrigue.
Features are lined up to fill
Empty pages that wrap up words;
Words that tell. Tales.
Calculated.
Tales behind the scenes.
Of inside politics
That scrap. Strip. Slash. Kill.
To disillusion the writer.
Not to enhance the feature.
Scrap.
Not to rid error.
But to rid feeling of
Inferiority.
Of insecurity.
That hinder professionalism.
Demean friendship.
Bring down, wholesale
The set standards
It does not matter to one
Whose intent is to mitigate
Any competition that might
Oust him off his rocking chair
That sucks
Him in to a vacuum
That he alone cannot fill
Did not measure up.
Unable to rise to demands
Petty disparities
Have a way of gaining ground
To cripple souls
The essence of life
Is to share. Whatever
Without holding back
In one's fist.
To turn to dust.
Its when you give that you get
Its when you smile
You get a smile in return
Its when you extend a hand
that you get lifted
Its when you forget yourself
For the sake of another
One becomes indispensable
That one leaves one's mark
Not a stain
To remain truly
unforgettable
Charmaine FERNANDO |
