 Restless eyes
The fearsome darkness
Not dispelled
Wrapped in my own thoughts
In a gloomy chamber
Lamp flared....
 Cicadas singing
A never ending song
Bees returning
To the hive
Grows making
A din.....
An owl hooted once
Can I run away?
No escape
A scintillating star
Murmurs in dismay
Lamp flame
Breathing its last
My mind
Still seething
Dear God
If I have wings.....
U.A.U. Bhagya Weerasinghe
Trespassing prohibited
 I must admit
That now I feel
Quite guilty
For cutting down
The saplings
Grandfather
Had planted
Laboriously
They had menacingly
Encroached on my territory
Blurring his memory
With the flaring-up of hatred
Among family members
Who in unison, had
Decided to demarcate
The land with a barbed-wire fence,
Forgetting
How we had plucked
And shared
The ripe and luscious fruits
In abundance
Ranjan Amarasinghe
A poem for my alma-mater
With envy I eye,
The huge iron-gate,
The narrow, tree-lined tarmac,
And the vast playground,
As I ride,
By my alma-mater,
Once our paradise.
The security people
 At the gate,
New buildings,
Additions brought about by time,
A changer, a leveller,
An obliterator,
Stand obtrusive,
In my sight,
Almost an eye-sore!
O! Heavy change in the familiar,
The known and the accustomed!
Yet, the temple trees abloom,
The willow-tops dancing in the wind,
The old stone wall,
Still appear to me,
Ageless, unchanged,
Stability I call it,
And let old memories be reawakened,
And my heart be filled with joy.
But, in the offing,
About the gay willow tops,
I see something faint floating,
In the wind.
Maybe, a dry willow-leaf
- Jayashantha Jayawardhana Dedicated to my English teachers: Mrs.
Rangama, Mr. Deepthi Parakrama, Mrs. Wasantha Subasinghe of Kuli/Central
College
Life
Not a puzzle to solve
Not a prize to grab
Nor a game to win
And of course not
A cause for tears
Life,
Is the essence of beauty
Gifted to all
No matter big or small,
To be lived to the fullest
To enjoy with heart filled joy
Life is to be lived
The great gift of God
- Sanduni Perera
Diaspora’s dream
 After three decades, I’m back in my country again
To see the sodden red earth and sand;
Once it was like the Eden, with vines laden,
Alas! Now it’s a barren land,
Now the devils are gone, I’m back home
To breathe the free air of the motherland,
Booming or blast or a ping of a bullet,
Never, never shall our offsprings perceive,
All, fair and dark, with turban and fez
Unite to till the soil so fertile
I’ve the courage, I’ll till and plough
And make my country a green paradise
- P. Nanayakkara
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