Moonlight

The moon saves the balance in the night -light and darkness
It never illuminates weakened points in ecology
And eliminates extravaganzas exposures of the universe
And makes the whole as one and one attraction
Milky light embraces the sea with fickle positions of shadows over waves
Lunar dances in cemented forest that springs to sky
With a few trees of hairs on an old bold headed.
She loves to bathe every lane where the poor and the rich breathe.
Every month the moon be happy and be plump,
Hoping that human would be better by tomorrow.
She murmurs them a soundless preach
To save degree of equality but to praise when necessary
To be generous and to invest self-skill for the betterment of the common
To treat you are one of the lots hanging on the web of civilization
But every month she loses the expectations
Every imagination weans and freezes her inspirations
The aspiration, carefully brought up, becomes delusion
She hides herself behind a mountain of clouds
And sheds tears that becomes dews on the earth
Some days the sea weeps
And it boosts her chest up and up
But man shows no change; he remains
Dumb
And numb - Wasantha Thilakarathna

Here the poet expresses philosophical thoughts through a commonplace scenario of moonlight which is interpreted as the leveller. Moonlight does not know the social, cultural or other synthetic barriers. The moonlight wishes that humanity be invested in self-skills so that people may make their lives brighter. However, she loses her hopes and hides among the clouds. She shades tears which turn into dews. However, man remains dumb and numb. -Indeewara

A divine plea (1994)

My weary soul pregnant with pain and woe
Will rise each day,and still would not,if I could.
Yet need drags me up,despite the rested night
And a dozen queries spring to mind
On customers, employees, cash ,and taxes, and
Power bills,and a hundred other things.
No room to sit, no place to plan or think.
All is heavy and forlorn, tears well up
Crumbling the heart ,for there is none to
Talk to, none to listen, Darkness, Hopelessness,
Regrets and futureless. The heart rebukes the
Lethargy,and blind blundering of all that goes on,
Day in day out with no seeming light.
Oh where Abundance! Glorious Success,
Wild Dreams of achievement, Heights of Fame,
That spurred me onto dizzy expectations.
And now,.. What went wrong? Who spiked the dream?
Evil Eye? Almighty Angered? what crocked the Glorious
Vision?
I seek pardon Lord, for past blemishes, faltering sins.
I have never strayed in disbelief,and must beseech thee,
For your hand outstretched gently, to lift me
In eternal, and forgiving Love. - Lucky de Chickera

The poem is a kind of an elegy on aging. It is a process which often leads one to absolute isolation. One?s kith and kin and even the glories and much cherished achievements would fade away into the past leaving only the crumbs of them. There is no longer a purpose of life, only the woes and agony and the soul would cry for spiritual nourishment. However, all depends on personalities and the kind of life they make themselves. The poet reflects on the aging and conditions associated with it in a simple diction. - Indeewara

My own

Walked along
under the tranquil shade.
under the sweet shade;
under the shade where,
We built our own
dream castle
Our tied lock however,
Built one;
a castle
a heaven
for us
The heaven with nourishing laughter, joy
Oh! Grumbling why not?
Two and three and another...
Covert whispers on bread and the needs
Spring summer and now; the WINTER
Reached you before me
Parted both leaving grief for me
And now I wish and pray
Sticking my eyes on your paper portrayal
To let me have you
In my second infancy. - Esala Erangi Malawithanthri

Though it is a common experience, the poet makes it evocative and especially the parting of the loved one. What remains now is only a paper portrayal of the loved one departed. Life has passed through its phenomenal stages from spring, summer and winter. Winter days, as aptly pointed out by the poet are cold and chilly with flooding memories of happy yet spent days. - Indeewara

A piece of home truth

?....Pardon me, deserts, that I don?t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water....?
Wislawa Szymborska - Under One Small Star
Maybe my father was disappointed,
By my plump refusal,
To represent our family,
At the monthly meeting,
Of the ?Village Development Co-operative?.
I never really volunteer to sit,
For hours in the community hall,
Infested with dust, fleas, and cobweb.
The very sight of the wooden benches,
Slept on by stray dogs,
In the absence of gatherings,
And the yellowing walls,
Where rain water has painted,
Blackish splotches,
Is as loathsome to me,
As the stinking water and silt,
In the gutter.
But, what I abhor most,
Is being in the company,
Of village folk- the rustic, the verbose and the vulgar,
The very same people,
Who spice up life,
And keep the world running.
O the spade and the scythe!
It`s as absurd and as paradoxical as this:
I, who sympathize with them,
In my poetry,
Seek to avoid their society,
In real life,
At my parents` expense.
Who am I, then?
An honest hypocrite?
A snobbish humanist?
Or a damnable melange
Of both? - Jayashantha Jayawardhana

The poet raises concern about all of us, including poets and novelists whether the cry over the plight of the less fortunate is genuine or it is a part of a professional hazard. Through an incident where the poet has to represent his father at the Village Development Co-operative, he sheds light on diverse mentalities particularly of poets. As one, celebrated novelist said, ?literature is for the rich about the poor?. He or she may be a humanist but ?a snobbish humanist? who may not like to mingle with the less fortunate. The poet through carefully selected metaphors has been able to portray not only the physical atmosphere of the hall where the meeting is held but also the plight of the villagers. Indeewara Thilakarathne