The Stoic

All these ten years I had been,
Trapped in my own world.
I see the moonlight at night,
It makes this prisoners’ eyes gleam bright.
I feel the warmth of the sun,
Through the iron bars that keep me shunned.
How I long to feel the love of a family,
Even jailors allow that.
I’ve no mates in this prison,
Now how can I bear that?
Sometimes I wonder who said life’s all about living,
When all I do is nothing but sacrificing.

Ravindi Silva , Panadura
 

The angel

If only you can see the tears in my eyes, |
you will understand
what true love is
If only you can keep your ear on my heart,
you will understand
How the suffering of true love is
If only you can keep your footsteps through my life,
you will understand
what the illusion of true love is
If only you can stray in my soul,
you will understand
what the punishment for true love is
But, you aren’t there anymore....
Because you are just an angel who lived
only in my fantasy.

Kane

Reflections

Moments ago in broad daylight
I heard the music, the fluttering songs,
Magic was created with multiple notes,
Feelings were surging upon the keyboard.

He hung his banner upon the railing,
Sketched his theme on the street walk
Sat, cradling his instrument of reflections
And played with his soaring soul.

He sang of hope, dreams and memories,
He sang of heroes that none could recall.
On days of silence and quivering cold,
he sang of his own sweet sorrow.

Reflections of life ran through him
Hardship nurtured and scorched him.
But he sang out his heart seated on the street walk,
It was his life, his path to salvation.

Melodiously captivated was I in his musings
Tempted to let go of the world so vast.
Listening made my heart jump a beat
And cradle the melody ever so tight.

I look around . . . and saw hope,
flutter and burn within the eyes,
Hope we still need for breathing
And joy to create the world within.

Filled with utter joy and tranquillity
I begin the day with a new sight
Yet I hope to hear the refreshing reflections,
Of the man so poor yet rich with joy.

Thisari Erandhika Widyalankara

Poetic Voice

As you can see from the previous topics, there are many poetic styles to choose from. We have already discussed about poetry of place, personal poetry, issues oriented poetry and persona poetry. These are all unique approaches to poetry. They have nothing to do with meter, diction, rhythm or form.

Once you combine all of those poetic concepts, you can see that there are many diverse approaches to the writing of poetry. Some people write well using very specific styles while others jump from style to style easily.

Poetic voice is something that exists outside all of these concepts.

Poetic voice is, quite literally and broadly the way that you write. It is your choice of words, the order of your words, the length of your sentences, the length of your poems, your use of description, your choice of subjects, your attitude and everything else that goes into the writing of a poem. While any of these aspects of your writing can change from one poem to another, general patterns will emerge over time. It is like the difference between climate and weather. Weather can change daily or even hourly, but the climate rarely changes. It is the guiding force behind the weather.

Developing your poetic voice is a process that continues as long as you write poetry, but in general your voice will become more specific and pronounced over time. When people first start to write poetry, they tend to mimic the poets (or even musicians) they have heard in the past. They have an idea of what poetry should sound like, and they try to force their natural voice into the styles they imagine. As writers grow more comfortable with their writing, their own unique voice comes to the forefront. This doesn’t mean that they put all of their past influences aside, it merely means that those influences serve less as a conscious guide and more as a subconscious inspiration.

It is only natural, even for an experienced poet, to adapt aspects of a new poet or style that they find interesting or inspiring, just as they may react against a style or poet that they find distasteful. As a poet grows more confident in his voice, those influences will have less and less impact.

So, how do you develop your poetic voice? You write. You write and write and write. You also read other poets, not to copy their style but to learn from them. As you continue to write and to read, you will keep the influences you like and discard the ones you don’t, all as a natural part of your development. You will also find that your voice will begin to win out.

Other things to remember: Listen to the way you speak.

Don’t try to write in a style that is dramatically different from the way you speak.

Don’t use words in your poetry that you wouldn’t use in conversation.

Incorporate influences from other media such as television, movies, news, talk radio, fiction, non-fiction, music and the people around you.

The greater the number of influences you have, the less dominant any one influence will be. Accept that you don’t have to sound like other writers to be successful. Your own voice and experience will be better than anything you try to simulate.

Consolation

Tears pouring from my eyes,
Helplessness overwhelming me,
Looked one day at the horizon,
At a time when sun was hiding itself,
A small ship sailing
Glistened in the fading sunlight,
A soft breeze went passing me,
A wave came rolling in
Wetted my feet and went away......
My eyes wandered to the vast sea
Subjugated by darkness,
Endless wonders of nature,
Dried my tears.

Chanakya Liyanage

Prayer changes things

Prayer changes things - and yet how blind
And slow we are to taste and see
The blessedness that comes to those who trust in thee
Prayer changes things - the heavy load
That pressed me down to shades of night.
Somehow through prayer has lost its power

By morning light.
Prayer changes things - my burdens fall
And disappear or slip away.
When at His feet I leave them all,
And kneel to pray.
Prayer changes things - my old desires
Ambitions, doubts, and trembling fears
Disperse, as morning changes night.

And smiles and tears,
Prayer changes things - the unkind word,
Or memory of “What they say”.
Within the atmosphere of prayer
must melt away.
Prayer changes things - the circumstance,
That seemd unfortunate or bad.
Must work God’s purpose out, so I
Am no more sad.

Bernadette Peiris, Moratuwa.

I love him......

Once upon a time.
I met him.
We spent a few days together
Day by day we got closer to each other
At last I knew “I LOVE HIM....”
Oh god! who will allow my love?
Because I am elder than he &
he is my cousin....,
So, I tried to forget him.
But, all ways he comes to my mind &
Confuses me,
only one thing I know,
“I LOVE HIM....” that’s true,
But is it a mistake?

K. Perera, Kalutara

Deceived

Forgive me if you can
That’s what she said
There’s nothing to forgive
Then I said to her
We Are running in circles
Keep coming back to the start
It seems we are running blind
Our lives get nowhere

Now our souls are lost
Lost somewhere beyond the stars
And I feel in inside
That there is no turning back
Even if I want to go back
I don’t think I will be able
I’ve come so far on this road
And it can’t be for no reason

Eventhough you let me down
Whenever I need you
I can’t turn my back on you
‘Cause you mean so much to me
I can’t just look away
When you look at me in that way
I forget all what you’ve done
And go deep in my deception
Back again

I have been told
I am being deceived
I have being warned
With fire no play should be
Can you just tell me
What is right?
Can you just help me
Get out of my deception......

Heretic,