Just a small sphere
 A small sphere in the sky,
Our tiny earth is,
The star studded blue sky,
As its back ground,
Dust from the universe formed,
Into a small sphere,
Revolving in the glimmering,
Star studded sky,
Divisions galore,
In such a tiny earth,
In the name of religion, languages,
In the name of castes,
Yet such a small sphere,
With seas scattered on its surface,
Forest spreads its greenery,
Birds and animals walk on its surface,
Yet such a small sphere,
One earth, One mankind,
Only one earth for us to live in,
Not to be destroyed, by callous hands,
Just a small sphere in the sky,
Our tiny earth is.
Shantini Rubawathy Vivekananthan
Cry for Life
 A man descending from a fishing boat
Waddled to the market
And emptied his basket onto the cemented floor
He was numbed and nil in his wit
The fish looked smart
Body shined with rainbow colours
Opened eyes, opened mouth, ajar gill
Pleaded for mercy; pleaded for life.
It leapt up and whirled and whirled
Fell upon the ground with a heavy thud
Tail rose to the sky,
Head rose to the sky,
At once the body was raised,
As if a taut bow was released
Then the head and the tail dashed against the floor
Tired fish; wearied fish;
Blew through the gills showing whole red brain
It puffed, and puffed,
And swelled the belly,
Wriggled to and fro; to and fro
And then, it opened the mouth half
Slipped some sound
That meant,
"Have my parents or I
Done any wrong to you, mighty Man?"
Wasantha Thilakarathna
All creations sing God's praises
 At dawn the rising of the sun;
There follows the daily chorus not one,
The birds that gaily sing,
To praise their Maker and King.
Each little flower that daily blooms
Bright colour display: Dispel gloom;
In its own sweet way praises him
Their maker Lord and King.
Field and forest vale and mountain;
Flashing sea and flowing fountain,
They all join and praise Him
their Maker Lord and King.
We have eyes to see: Lips to speak
the greatness of Him who made all things well,
So let's join: sing and praise Him
Our Creater, Saviour, Lord and King.
Norma Perera
The stranger
It was cold outside,
With mist on all sides
When a galloping was heard
From the West of the hillside
The wind was howling into the night
He got down from his horse
And forced his way by
There was a small brown cottage
With a dimly lit lamp inside
He knocked on the hard door
With a timid knock;
Not hard enough to hear,
And waited for sometime, his heavy breath lapsing
Against life
The dimly lit lamp went off in a while and so
He thought to himself and went past by and
The stranger went on till early morn
Before he died.
Amila Jayasinghe
Body language
 Throbbing of drums
Raises her left leg
With clasped hands
In a worshipping posture.
Then, in the next moment,
With a graceful upward movement
Of her shapely and ivory white arms,
Amidst an array of blinking stage lights
In a variety of shades,
She smiles,
Whirls,
Jumps,
Sways her body
Rolls her eyes,
And with the lithe steps
Moves all over the stage,
Keeping time to the drum beat,
With the graceful movement of her hands;
Then, goes down on one knee
To get up slowly.
Then, with a coy glance and a radiant smile
She bows to the audience,
Before the curtain falls,
To end her eloquent body language
Amidst the loud applause!
S.T. Pushpananda |
