Poems | Page 2 | Sunday Observer

Poems

12 August, 2018

 Life’s journey

When born into this world according to destiny

You come crying, helpless and you are so tiny

From day one when you see the light

Parents work tirelessly with all their might

They long to see the newborn babe’s face

This will be the first step in their race

Infancy is that which captivates their first interest

Then they do begin their effort earnest

Good childcare providing the very best

Is reflected in their boundless energy and zest

They work hard to give you a smart start

To position you for success in adult life

Development stages are catered to carefully

While they stick to firm advice thoroughly

Then comes the time to pay their attention

More than anything else to your education

To turn you into good citizens is their right

Encouraging you for a future bright

Then the development of character and personality

Through which the parental link will open the opportunity

At the same time instilling moral and ethical values

Hoping to direct you to the correct venues

Then comes the traditional academic journey

Where a strong knowledge base has to be developed

Further, the parents encourage you in other capacities

Here the journey is heavily influenced by parents’ abilities

Now knowledge-centered employment remains important

For which they will have to give their full support

Then comes the most vital – the marriage

To put you safe and sound in a carriage

Not driven by white horses

But by valued moral forces

Now their commitment is to deliver dire family needs

Because you still need parental help for future family speed

- Rupa Banduwardena


 

 Remembrance Day

Shouldering kaki bags, holding water bottles and flowers

Sagging faces of old age dulled by dried up tears

Their eyes sunken, their skin puckered with hollow cheeks.

In their yellowish white dresses, exhausted with

Travelling in long sleeplessness and hunger

In pensive mood despite the scorching sun

Their feeble bodies wet with perspiration…..

In the makeshift tent they are awaiting the moment.

Drums beat, bugles sound and white flags rend the air.

Then the beloveds of late officers good looking and well dressed,

Lay wreaths on the pedestal which uniformed men bring

After them and salute their dead heroes.

Finally, the expected moment of the exhausted is announced

And the sorrowful move to the war memorial

Streams of warm tears overflow the sockets

Of the old and feeble whose youthful soldier sons,

The wealth of their lives and means of their bread

Who gave up life for all and sundry,

Search for the tiny space on the polished inscription

Of the tall memorial for the name of their irreparable loss

Wiping tears from their glazed eyes struggling helplessly

Alongside sobs and paroxysms of grief.

And the lucky ones who trace the tiny space

Touch it as if it were the youthful face of their son,

Feel it and get lost in thought

Memories and more memories,

Tears overflowing, limbs sagging, mouths muttering

Words of love, affection and helplessness

Communing to the dead what dying alive is.

- Chandana Ruwan Jayanetti


Epiphany

Left with a pale flower one day

I struggled with restlessness over me

Even the twinkling stars were blocked away

And the darkness gobbled up the sea.

Knowing from whom the flower was sent

But not knowing why pale

With confusion my heart bent

And scrutinizes began to wail.

Darkness dominated, sweat poured

Sadness brightened and the flower glanced

Reflections rushed on a perpetual road

On a floor of desperation I danced

How is a pale flower full of love?

The petals were a disgusting brown

And a putrid dampness above

Why? Must I wear it as a crown?

My eyes filled with disappointment

And heart with adamant ache

Is not my love sufficient?

Huge sacrifices I make.

Fingers of fury ripped a petal

Another and another again

Fended, nails of thick metal

While tears of torment summoned rain

A sudden stop and I struggled to see

And the race my heart tried to win

Is it actually what it could be?

I assume my mind gave a grin.

Millions of filaments stood with perfection

Around a center of smooth solidity

I was dying with suffocation

And now alteration touches my mentality.

Tears began drying up

Blood decided to run slow

Hit with clarity and a gulp

My feet finally felt the floor

Fingers of doubt but a vague comprehension

Ran through the statues of love

The balmy bodies bestowed satisfaction

And I know he did not violate his vow.

- Thepuli Punarjeewa 

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