Negotiables
Repost This ArticleI wish to crack
a bottle of arrack
and kick my legs
out on the verandah
before the sea
at twilight,
this mix of
liquor, even
kisses, pleasure
under whirring
fans, brought
by our soldiers
bludgeoning
villagers with bombs.
They chose war,
the Tamils,
must now face
the music,
hopping
on one foot
to a new master.
This is obvious,
why write poetry
anymore, or even
put on a suit
or read the classics?
The arrack is sweet
and limestone,
salt and gems,
if any , in the North
will be harvested
to enjoy our southern
evenings strolling
at Unawatuna
hand in hand
under the moon;
even that Tamil
boy who lost
his mother
and father
to a misplaced
projectile,
says he must
move on,
learn a trade.
There is a new
calculus, throw
away the abacus,
Boys, the dream
has been denied.
Bend your heads
and genuflect,
we may yet
be kind and
give you a bit
of land down
the street
from the newly
shooted Bo Tree
and the shrine.
This is a poem I wrote last year.
Waiting Mother…..
She closes her eyes for she doesn’t see any,
Then sees him growing in to a lad full of fun,
Leaving her giving his life for a brighter sun,
Opens her eyes and she doesn’t see any.
She closes her eyes for she doesn’t see any,
Then sees him walking down the path
Turning every step to look back and wave,
Opens her eyes and she doesn’t see any.
She closes her eyes for she doesn’t see any
Then sees him turning down the path,
Too far to see if he were crying or smiling,
Opens her eyes and she doesn’t see any.
She closes her eyes for she doesn’t see any,
Sees other sons who returned walking or dead,
Not her dear one longed and to see she waited,
Opens her eyes and she doesn’t see any.
She closes her eyes for she doesn’t see any,
Then sees him coming walking up the path,
Holding over the shoulders, a bag so heavy,
Opens her eyes and she doesn’t see any.
With tired, tear filled and eyes swollen,
It is to see her son she waits and waits,
For her it is her world if there is one.
With hope that never withered nor lost.
By
Ananda Ariyarathne
Is bludgeoning
villagers with bombs
much worse
than
bludgeoning
commuters with suicide bombs?
Do
the newly
shooted Bo Tree
and the shrine
arise karmically
from the shot at Bo tree
in Anuradhapura
and the truckbombed Kandy Temple?