The renunciation

He thinks she’s asleep,
As He tiptoes towards their divan.
Gently moving the gossamer curtain that separates the two of them,
He leans in,
Takes hold of her hand softly,
Places it to his lips and sighs.
I see the slight glint of a teardrop in the fire light.
He touches the iron handle of the door.
He is ready to leave.
The slight stir of satin sheets,
The tender gurgle of a baby
Stops him.
He turns,
And looks at him for the last time.
The baby smiles,
He smiles,
They have parted.
He pushes the iron handle of the door
and takes a step outside.
I hear the doleful mourn of the wind,
I hear the distant melancholia brought to life
By an unaccompanied flute.
The moon, so serene yet so dismal –
Feels the pain of this inevitable goodbye.
She shines her brightest,
paving the way for Him,
As He mounts His steed
And embarks on His journey;
To find the missing element of Humanity.

– Ayodhya Bandara Perera



No one was there to love
me when I’m alone,
except you…
No one was there to hug me when I’m cold,
except you…
No one was there to help me when I was in a trouble,
except you…
No one was there to kiss me when I needed a kiss,
except you…
No one was there to talk with me when I’m crying,
except you…
And today you are not here to be with me when I need you…
You are far away from me…
You are forever gone from me…
My love I’m here waiting for your return till I die…
But please remember how much I loved you…
Never changes on me whether you come to me or not…
Please remember that a little girl is crying for you…

- Sachi Joseph


Ode, Composed On A May Morning

While from the purpling east departs
The star that led the dawn,
Blithe Flora from her couch upstarts,
For May is on the lawn.
A quickening hope, a freshening glee,
Foreran the expected Power,
Whose first-drawn breath, from bush and tree,
Shakes off that pearly shower.
All Nature welcomes Her whose sway
Tempers the year’s extremes;
Who scattereth lustres o’er noon-day,
Like morning’s dewy gleams;
While mellow warble, sprightly trill,
The tremulous heart excite;
And hums the balmy air to still
The balance of delight.
Time was, blest Power! when youth and maids
At peep of dawn would rise,
And wander forth, in forest glades
Thy birth to solemnize.
Though mute the song---to grace the rite
Untouched the hawthorn bough,
Thy Spirit triumphs o’er the slight;
Man changes, but not Thou!
Thy feathered Lieges bill and wings
In love’s disport employ;
Warmed by thy influence, creeping things
Awake to silent joy:
Queen art thou still for each gay plant
Where the slim wild deer roves;
And served in depths where fishes haunt
Their own mysterious groves.
Cloud-piercing peak, and trackless heath,
Instinctive homage pay;
Nor wants the dim-lit cave a wreath
To honor thee, sweet May!
Where cities fanned by thy brisk airs
Behold a smokeless sky,
Their puniest flower-pot-nursling dares
To open a bright eye.
And if, on this thy natal morn,
The pole, from which thy name
Hath not departed, stands forlorn
Of song and dance and game;
Still from the village-green a vow
Aspires to thee addrest,
Wherever peace is on the brow,
Or love within the breast.
Yes! where Love nestles thou canst teach
The soul to love the more;
Hearts also shall thy lessons reach
That never loved before.
Stript is the haughty one of pride,
The bashful freed from fear,
While rising, like the ocean-tide,
In flow the joyous year.
Hush, feeble lyre! weak words refuse
The service to prolong!
To yon exulting thrush the Muse
Entrusts the imperfect song;
His voice shall chant, in accents clear,
Throughout the live-long day,
Till the first silver star appear,
The sovereignty of May.

- William Wordsworth


We’re all mad here

It’s good that we’re insane
Since the world, it tallies with us
With it’s capricious volcanoes
And soothing air…
With its sagely bespectacled half
And the wild and the free…
It’s good that we’re insane
The world;
It worships insanity.

– Tharusha Deegala


Passing through

Uninvited, hither we came
And, without leave, departed hence.
What reason here for agony
Other than regret, as we shall meet again?
I crossed many rivers and mountains
Obstacles overcome with nary a care.
During my earthly journey,
Hope did not hurt anyone in my path.
I plead, my friends or foes
Do not hinder my ascent to the Heavens
Thro’ love or longing, other than regret.
Remember me, as I will remember you
Across that golden shore.

– Chris Defonseka