War torn prayer


My skies continue to grey
The darkness of night does not cease at day
The air gets bleaker, our breaths deterred
Though the sudden blazes of evil are not preferred
The pit in my stomach is infinitely deep
I’ve forgotten how to laugh but I remember how to weep
I’ve written letters to addresses to which I cannot post
I play no more though I whisper to the baby ghosts
Routines, a luxury that I’ve forgotten my own way
For yesterday’s losses are different from today’s
I see broken glass, I see fallen poles
I see rubble and blood, I see confined souls
My reaction to everything is to kneel down and pray
But the sun has hidden and the holy moon shies away
There used to be light in me, hot enough to burn
But now I am frozen and my light is yet to return

– Saduni Wanniarachchi


බොල් අඳුර ගලා’විත් කවුළු දොර අබියසට
මට රවා නින්ද අරගෙන ඉගිළ යන විටක
සෙමින් එකිනෙක සැලෙන පොත් පිටු ද අතර ඔබ
කවි වැලක් සේ පෙනුනි අකුරු අතරෙහි රැඳුන

මොහොතකට කවුලු දොර දෙස බලා සිනාසුන
හිරිකඩය සුලං රැලි පෙළා මා ගත රැඳුන
හදිසියේ අවදි වුණ විලස මා ඔබ දෙසම
දෙනෙත් නොපියා බලා සිටි අයුරු දෝ මතක

පොතේ පිටු අතර රැඳි දහස් පද වැල් අතර
සිහි නොවුනි ඔබව මට මෙබඳු මොහොතක මිසක
එහෙත් මේ හදිසියේ මන්ද ඔබ මා හදට
පිවිසුනේ ඇද හැලෙන පොහොන් වැස්සක් ලෙසට

එදා අවුරුදු ගණන් පෙරදි මා ඔබ හමුව
ගෙවී ගිය සොඳුරුතම මිහිරි වූ ගී වැල්ය
දිනෙන් දින ඉරි තැලී ගිය මගේ හදවතම
අදත් ඔබ නමින් ඉඩ තවත් ඇත්තේ මන්ද

ලෝකයේ කොතැන හෝ මා නොහඳුනා තැනක
සරණු ඇත ඔබත් පෙර මතක නටබුන් අතර
ඉගිල යන පවනකට ඔබෙ හුස්ම එකලු කර
හදට සුසුමක් විලස ගලා යයි හද තුලට

මීට දිගු කලක පෙර මිහිදන්ව ගිය මතක
සොයා හද බිම කණිමි පහන් වන තුරා රැය
කොහේ හෝ නිසංසල තැනක සැඟවී යලිත්
පෙනෙයි ඔබ දහස් ගණනින් ලියූ අකුරු මැද

ආදරය තනිකඩව ඉකි බිඳින සුසානෙක
ඔබ නමින් ලියැවේවි ජීවිතේ සොහොන් කොත
පුංචි ඉටි පහනක්ව යලිත් හිත ළඟට’විත්
මතක මිටියාවතම එළිය වී හිඳිනු ඔබ….!!

– Hashintha Vidanapathirana


On a Mountain Top or a River Bank
Wherever I could fly
With much Efforts
Collect little by Little and
Carry as much as I Can
The Clay Balls
To build the Mansion in my Mind
A Window Pane or a Frame
A Wall in a Hall
Under a Chair unseen
Wherever I Lay my Clay Ball
Will be my Little Home
Day & Night I sweat, and finished it in a rush
With my Kith & Kin
With a Little Pride in my Mind
Went to hold the House Warming
When I see my house was scattered
All my Dreams were shattered
The Lady with a Broom showed no Mercy
As she swept away my Little Mansion
I was engulf with grief
My Pride was gone Mind was Torn
Dear Lady, You being my Accused
Nevertheless be my Judge
I’m pleading you to give a Little room
Shelter is a Fundamental Right after All.

– Tiny .W.Sahabandu


poem about grandmother

Sweet as honey and short as a metaphor
Stubborn in style but mighty as ever
With a sea of wisdom she guides my way
My princess is you who blossoms my day
Charmingly calm and blessed with elegance
She fulfills her routine with a touch of excellence
Enthralls my life with the majesty of her kinship
Touching my heart with love and fellowship
My pride is endless to express you’re mine
So accept this token of gratitude with shine
Now time to shout out who you are,
It’s none other than ‘You’ my darling “Achcha”

– Kalharie Pitigala

when im gone poem

Don’t cry me a river,
When I’m gone…
as you
stare at the patterns
that my presence
has left….

It’s my wish for,
You are not gone…
Let your laughter roam
in it’s angelic form…

Sing me a song
to soothe my soul…
Close your eyes
open your heart
Don’t fall!

Point out a star
Or two for me,
Never fret
that you failed
to get me
The moon….

Cry me a river
Don’t cry
at all..
my soul can roam….

– Phusathi Liyanaarachchi

night sky poem

Above is a Canopy,
Studded with thousand Glitering Stars,
The vast Sky,
The Rays of the Golden Ball,
Gild the Darkness of the Night,
Green Surroundings,
Appeared to be in black,
Yet decorated with many Flickering lights,
The Fire Flies,
Mysterious sounds of the Night Creatures,
Is a melody with no lyrics,
Cool breeze move around with much ease,
Word’s won’t come easy,
For me to explain,
The Beauty of the silvery Night!

– Tiny W. Sahabandu

poem about life

Second by second hour by hour
Time passes the life
We smile we talk we walk together
In our faded mild life
Shaded eyes gleam with wonderful dreams
Enlightened the sorrowful naked tears
Still the thoughts pounding from a dry dead heart
Whispers the echo of lively dreams
Of enchanted love
Time passes by laughing at us
We are the passengers of life followed by the time
with wonderful dreams
With shameless hearts beautiful smiles
and feelings with dark memories
We walk among the pathway of the life with the enemies ….. Alive
Our life…………….enemies are alive

– Vindhya Ariyapperuma

Sinharaja Poem

Where raindrops, their crystal hearts, sing a love song ever changing
Where woodpeckers and hummingbirds greet each other every morning
Where crocodiles and reptiles carouse, act up, brawl; then kiss goodnight!
Where fairies dance on starlit nights  and  goblins mischief makes you smile

In your woods I gently trek, your many hues; I hold my breath!
By sparkling streams I sit awhile oh weary soul, I need some rest
Your canopy holds such wondrous grace; the creators feast, a masterpiece!
Sinharajah, our very own; picturesque, unending

Your pages unfold  streams of grace, beguiling, fascinating
A forest floor, an under story, a canopy so lush, green trees above!
Reptiles, birds, snakes and mammals you house, a heavenly ark, a fine abode
With love you weave, to you I cleave, the creators grace everlasting

Laurussia and Godwana land, your history dates eras of old
The Rakwana Massif, Galle, Matara and Ranpapura you conjoin and clothe with grace
Your eco system preserves and saves, shields and keeps, our land, our home
When chopped ande raped, stripped undressed, you turn your face “my soul you’ve bruised”

Where peace, grace and love abide in multigenerational families of old
Where wattle and daub homes, roofs thatched with bamboo; an alluring, enchanting feast
Where Ayurvedic medicines, herbs and spices, are gathered, steeped and sold with love
Warukandeniya and Kolontotuwa villages, Sinharajah, you pleasurably host

The Greater Racket tailed drongo, the Noicy orange billed Babbler
The Red faced Malkoha, the Green billed Coucal and Blue Magpie
The Green pit Viper, the Purple faced Langur
Sinharajah, our very own; picturesque, eternal

Sinhagala, Pinipitigala, Mulawella your majestic, delightful peaks
Kudawa, Pitadeniya, Morningside your gateways studded in gold
Bird watching, waterfall trekking, canoeing, lake fishing and nature walks
Sinharajah, our very own; picturesque, never-ending

A lowland evergreen forest steeped in legend, folk lore and mystery
Sinha – Lion, Rajah- King, A princess; the origins of a Sinhala race
A world heritage site, carbon sequestration, priceless to humankind
With love you weave, to you I cleave, the creators grace eternal

In your woods I gently trek, your many hues; I hold my breath!
By sparkling streams I sit awhile oh weary soul, I need some rest
Your canopy holds such wondrous grace; the creators feast, a masterpiece!
Sinharajah, our very own; picturesque, everlasting

– Mary-Anne Willis


(An English translation of Prof. Wimal Dissanayake’s poem, “තාත්තාගේ මරණය” (Thāththāge Maranaya) which was originally written in Sinhala)

Just as groping in the darkness
in search of a precious gem,
the doctor was looking for a drop of breath
left in father’s body.
With frightened eyes we peered at the scene
in utter stillness
My heart, restlessly moving
hither and thither
like a soft bud caught in a
whirlpool of wind
As motionless as a mountain
in bantering excitement
Dumbfounded like a stone,
quite motionless
the doctor raised his hand
and took a shaken look at the bystanders
who were around the bed
with eyes floating in a rivulet of tears
We waited earnestly
until a silver lining would appear,
as the doctor laboriously tried to watch us
with a haunting expression in his face
He failed,
and immediately turned his head towards the floor
The sky ached in vociferous thunder
while rains of tears welled out of eyes
and fell down on the floor
Pacifying the dark vibes
appeared the pale decorations
like a soothing balm!

– Prof. Wimal Dissanayake

– Translated by: Indunil Madhusankha

Sri Lanka War Poem

(“Nahi Werena Werani” – Hatred Never Ceases by Hatred)

For three long decades
the nation was beaten
in no small measure
at the eruption of the terror bomb
that dispelled mankind straight to death
in thousands
of whom the blood gleamed in the same carmine
be it Sinhalese or Tamils
So why this obsolete, spoilt stratification?

Vermillion balls of crystallized blood
mingled with white sand like carnelian
everywhere in the Jaffna peninsula
Precipitously blasted vehicles
Charred remnants of smashed houses
Sky-climbing buildings,
flattened to the ground and vanished
Dead bodies put inside
kerosene stained blackened tires
And how the roasting corpses lifted themselves
in the raging flames
mirroring the killing injuries
The day the Aranthale sky
turned grey in thundering scream
Mammoth massacre of saffron robed monks,
the earth-splitting sin
Streets studded with mounting bullets
and heaps of dagger ridden and
bullet embedded bodies
stinking with the stench of the rotting bodies
that hung in the air
Swollen, pale bodies swathed
in blood soused clothing
and prostrated on grubby pavements
Detached heads with bloody tongues
leaping out of the mouth
The parched bodies’ ashes
mixed with air reeking through the island
In concentration camps, mantraps and
human abattoirs in dense forests
death yell crisscrossing far and wide
Carious human skeletons like bogies
and plain blood blotches in them
waft horribly the calamitous terror committed

Man hunting atrocities of Tigers,
Guns, hand bombs, landmines
and multi-barrels
trumpeted the death knell of thousands victimized
Doom tumbled on the innocents
in warfare amidst
the shower of flesh
and the whirlwind of bullets
Freshly budding young ones
snatched away from their parents’ bosom
Merciless urging to rush to arms

Cuddle-some children huddled on
torn out, crumpled mats
in the darkened sheds
With their eyes tightly pressed
by soft tiny hands,
they howled in indefinable fright
scared by the rackety bellow of gunfire

Saturated in utter darkness
with his incorrigible megalomania
to approach an unreachable destination,
fragmentation of the searing island
He with his fellow Tigers
pulled the trigger to
an unendurable death toll of over 70,000
What hearts of stone they have?
Did they achieve anything
except bloodletting and
the record breaking exhibition of
abnormally catastrophic massacres?
Heavily venerated Tigers
enshrined in their heroic pantheons
with Granite tombstones
What did they really attain?
Mere decease and decadence
He is already in his
cortege to the cemetery
The masses are earnestly awaiting
to say him a big good bye
Some request to catch him
and hang him up like a dog
so that they can pitch stones at him
It is no small anguish crushed in their hearts
Yet, the Buddha insists, “Hatred never ceases by hatred.”
Think of the perennial truth
couched in the pristine, untarnished dharma
On the other hand,
would it halt the repetition
of murderous history
bloated with blighting monstrosities?
The punishment to him
will not do,
at all,
But the inculcation of peace in our minds
So let peace sweep through our minds!
So let peace sweep through our minds!

Aranthale Massacre: The carnage of 33 Buddhist monks, a majority of them being young novice monks, by the Tamil Tigers on June 2, 1987 in the vicinity of the village of Aranthalawa in the Ampara District of Eastern Sri Lanka

Tigers: The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (the LTTE, commonly known as the Tamil Tigers), a separatist organization which aimed at creating an independent Tamil state (known as the Tamil Eelam) in the Northern and Eastern provinces of Sri Lanka thus paving the way for the Sri Lankan civil war (1976-2009)

– Indunil Madhusankha