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[POETRY]
Woes of a beggar
Oh! My fate!
What a wretched life!
In the pavement of the road
In the ceaseless rain
I am thoroughly soaked
And chilled sans a shelter.
Where is my beloved wife?
Where is my only son?
I don't know---
I think both are deserted
Somewhere...I don't remember
Once I fell unconscious
Due to lack of food
For one or two days
I foresee my loving life partner
And fondling son
Wandering in begging for.........
What a miserable life! I suffer
Without any relief!
So let me invoke the blessing
and mercy of
My creator who sees me eternally.
- M Y M MEEADH
Women's Day
Mother of life
You toil all day.
Getting up early
Cooking and feeding the family
Sowing and washing clothes
Taking care of hubby and kids
Giving love and compassion
Nursing the sick ones.
Sometimes doing a job
Earning money for the family.
Nobody paying for her work at home
Not for only a day
Always she yearns
for love, understanding and care.
- THALATHA NADANIE WIJERTNE
Beautiful art of cricket
Long long ago, in Sri Lanka soil,
Many a seed of British sport was sewn,
'Midst fragrant whiffs of high-grown brews
And big black puffs of Macadam fumes.
But the best of them all
Was the Cricketing strain of seed,
It sprouted then,
It is flourishing now,
Here, there, everywhere,
And delightfully so in schools,
Declaring,
That beautiful art of doing one's, most and best.
'Tis said in the world of trees,
That rootlets are a mighty lot.
They nourish the taproot to steady the tree,
In fair and foul weather alike.
Likewise,
May you youthful Teamsters,
Of calibre very fine
And donned with many a talent and trait,
Hold sway your match,
With verve and gusto
Rally round
Your Flag and your captain.
May you, tomorrow's Lankan Caps,
Be as keen and eager and enthused
As those that have gone before,
May you, enlivened be,
By those hearty cheers,
Blown in waves
And waves upon waves,
To yield great thrills,
While bering with grit, the spills.
May you, above all else,
Play the game and play it well,
For the glory of the game and land
And the greater glory of friendship bonds,
Made on and off the field,
Declaring,
That beautiful art of doing one's most and best.
- TRIXIE MARTHENESZ
Rites Rituals
Centuries ago, rules codified as social,
Were bound with meaningless rites and ritual;
Believing that repetitive recitations, practices,
Would provide devotees with prosperity and peace.
Protection and good health too perhaps,
Imitating behaviour of cows and canines -
Torture by lying on thorn beds,
For purification and atonement of sins,
Nescient practices continue,
Impressing around for public view;
Inflating egos ignore expense
Even at the cost of commonsense.
Time which could with resources
Lift the well-being of others,
Unfrittered away; instead
Could meaningfully be utilized.
Distress stems from unrealized hopes;
Comparison with others' success,
Position and material gain -
Stretching and competing, in vain.
Diligence with much pain,
When hampered is bereft of gain.
Elevation in society with acceptance,
Seemingly, happens after following rituals.
"Death confronts me all the time
How do I know how much of
My time -
I still have at my disposal?"
Let the Dhamma eye arise -
Let the causal principles
Beneath the superficial,
Cut through the third fetter!
- PUNYA ABEYASEKERA
Lonely little isle
I am a lonely little Isle far away among the untrodden lands near the
seven seas
One day a lonely little bird landed on me
Sang songs of love and happiness
And Spring came with all flowers in bloom
Lonely little bird flew away one day
Never to return back to the Isle of me
Flowers all withered and spring came no more
Barren land it was with out Love and happiness no more
Birds came and sang new songs of love to the Isle of me
But Spring was never again in the Isle of me
- BERTHOLAMUZE NISANSALA DHARMASENA |
