My Australia

Peoples settled here,
Brought to this island
The bounty of these seas,
Built towers topless as Ilium's.

They make, they serve,
They buy, they sell.

Ulysses by the Merlion, (Island, Edwin Thumboo)

My Australia doesn't make much news these days other than on non-competitive
cricket and natural disasters.

Oh, even our cricket is not competitive
We lost the Ashes to Poms again
And lost to India in the World Cup games.

Even our man, the Punter couldn't salvage
And keep the World Cup dream!

Many people have settled here
Building white walls across the country
Killing the black
Creating a Third World within the First.

Yes, of course
We BUY
From China, Japan,
Even from my Sri Lanka:
Coir ropes and tea!

Yes, we sell, a bit of Australia to China every day,
Until we have no land and iron ore!

My Australia
My home,
My love,
My pain.

SUNIL GOVINNAGE

Australia is a country of migrants from diverse parts of the globe. A common phenomenon among the migrant community particularly of the first generation of migrants is to set up their comfort zones amidst the fast-moving cosmopolitan life in Australia.

There are little India, China, Sri Lanka, Surinam among the Australian diasporic community.

They (diasporic community) talk about the goings on in their motherlands, recollect the places they grew up, the familiar paths they trod in their motherlands and partake food from their motherland.

The poet skilfully epitomises this phenomenon when he says 'Many people have settled here, building white walls across the country, Killing the black...creating a Third World within the First.'. 'My Australia' is a feeling of loss and regain, happiness and lament. The poet should be commended for the able depiction of varied dynamics of diasporic life in Australia.

Chaff and grain

My father picked up,
winnowing fan,
And shovelled it,
At the heap of threshed paddy,
And had it filled with paddy.

Against the cyclonic currents of air,
From the rotary fan,
Fixed on to the clamorous engine,
Of the old land-master,
He held it up,
Let the paddy pour down,
Carefully and ever so slowly.

Fastidious wind briefly interviewed,
Each seed in the sluggish shower,
And sent the dust and chaff packing,
While letting the grains fall home,
On to the thunhiriya mat.

By six o`clock, winnowing was over,
And the vociferous engine fell silent,
As if in exhaustion.

As usual, by the dwindling light,
We were not happy,
But not surprised either,
To see the chaff out heap the grains.

JAYASHANTHA JAYAWARDHANA

In this narrative poem, the poet describes a scene of separating the grain from chaff. The narrator's father slowly drops the paddy from the winnowing fan down to the mat while a powerful current of air generated by the rotary of the land-master separates grain from the chaff.

It is one of the common village scenes. However, there remains a bigger heap of chaff than the grains. It is the same in life.

Sacrilege

For Archibald MacLeish
"....A line will take us hours maybe;
Yet if it does not seem a moment`s thought,
Our stitching and unstitching has been naught...."
William Butler Yeats-Adam`s Curse
Even a poem that is palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
Dumb as old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stones where the moss has grown-
Wordless as the flight of birds,
Motionless in time
As the moon climbs
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Memory by memory the mind-
Motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
And is equal to:
Not true,
With an empty doorway and a maple leaf
For all the history of grief,
With the leaning grasses and two lights above the sea
For love,
And does not mean
But be,
Might end up smelling dry-fish,
In a sooty cane hamper,
Over the fireplace!

JAYASHANTHA JAYAWARDHANA

In this long narrative poem, it seems that the poet attempts to describe the sacrilege over the centuries. The poem is self-explanatory and is noted for its apt use of metaphors.

Moon talk

Cloudless night
moon shine through the trees
sitting on the window sill
I talk to the moon
Moon says ' The Best is Yet to Come'

BERTHOLAMUZE NISANSALA DHARAMASENA

In a cloudless night under the bright moon light the poet talks to herself and thinks that the best of her life is yet to come. It is obvious that the lonely poet considers the moon as a companion to reflect upon her own thoughts. The poem is noted for its brevity of expression.

Echoes of Eden

Creator's first garden
The garden of Eden
Exuding beauty, plenty, innocence
An idyllic setting
An intruding demon
In serpent form
Dangling an apple
Tempts, attracts
Causes destruction and banishment
A paradise lost!

A garden plot
Thick, lush foliage
Resplendent blossoms
Of multitudinous hues
A crimson rose
Many-petalled, dew embedded
Tempting, attracting
Yet there lurks 'neath it
A hissing serpent's venomous fangs

Children's garden of innocence'
Carefree, joyous, fragrance diffusing
Steals the adult serpent
Dangling baubles
Trusting innocence
Falls prey to serpentine wiles
Banished from garden of innocence
Traumatised

JEANETTE CABRAAL

The poet draws a parallel with the old Biblical story of Garden of Eden and a garden plot which can be a land of beauty.

Though the latter garden is full of natural beauty as was the Biblical garden of Eden, there is a serpent underneath. The children lose their innocence when they fall prey to the serpent banishing themselves from the garden of innocence.

Oh... tsunami once again

This is the time, to end of the world
This is the time, to turn up again
This is the time, to think about you
Time is circling can't see you

We are bothering about day-to-day works
About our like for a comfortable life
For a proper tomorrow, proper future
Don't we?

But my dear
How we know that, about tomorrow?
It will be ...or not...
Rich Tokyo is the flat bare land now
No day-to-day works, no more lives
No more uproar of busy human's
Because one minute
8.9 on Richter scale vibration and
33 feet high demon water wrinkle
We called tsunami
Reality is not only tsunami
It's telling and ringing us about
Unstable world

ANURADA ISURU KUMARI KALUARACHCHI

The poem is about the tsunami and earthquake in Japan and how fragile life is. The poet says in another way that though we are busy with day-to-day life , the world is as unstable and fragile as the dew-drop on a blade of grass.

After a minute the rich Tokyo has turned into 'the flat bare land' reminding the impermanent nature of life. The poet has used down-to-earth language.

Tribute to a hero

On that fateful morn
On the first of March
Two thousand and eleven it was
The sky was as clear
As glass would be
Amidst white clouds
That seemed like flying doves
The sun shone brightly
And glistened for eyes to see

I then listened to the sound
That made my heart bound
I searched the sky
Every space I could spy
With my naked eye
To catch a glimpse
Of that beautiful sight
That roared with all it's might
Even the birds fluttered their wings
At the sound of it's flight

The sound was deadlier
Than a thunderstorm that day
Soring high up in the sky
In a Kafir he was
That airman so brave
Kids and adults we all ran to see
The Kafir that flew past
Not for death but for pleasure instead

It was a treat for the kids
As it amplified into their ears
That made them screech with delight
It was late squadron Leader Monath
Who flew past for his last
We never knew we never knew

Twenty minutes later
On the phone I heard
That the Kafir's had collided
Oh Gosh ! I thought
Why couldn't it be avoided

A loss for the country
A loss for his parents
A mother who bore him and raised him
Amidst trials and tribulations
"My only child" she laments
While the grief stricken father
Gazes in distress

I know in my heart
There are no words to console
But I'll pray to God
To give them courage
To face the days ahead

DILRUKSHI DE SILVA

This narrative poem is about the unfortunate crash of Kafir which claimed the life of a brave pilot. The poet describes the fateful day and how the people watched with pride the military exercise. However, it turned out to be a day of bereavement following the crash.

Grace

Think I see you while a flower,
creates its fruit so fresh and new.
Yet I see you while the sky, twinkles its stars sparkling your praise.
Think I feel you while the sun creeps through the hill and spreads his
Raise.
Yet I feel you while my Mother keeps pouring her Love on each Growing
Soul.
Think I hear you, through the water that splashes amidst the sirds that
Sing.
Yet I hear you while children giggle, to create a world of joy.

It's you my God, beneath or above, within or without,
Any thing and Everything seems to represent your grance.
Your own grace which comes in the form of MERCY,
Reaching every single oul.

NIROSHA KHALEEL

The poem is about the omnipresence of God. The poet sees God in a flower while it creates fresh fruit and in the sky in a starry night. The poet feels the presence of God at the sun rise as its spreads its rays. The poet hears God in the giggles of the children who create a world of joy. The poem extols the glory of God.