Category: Poetry

Do You See What I See?

My love,
do you see what I see?
cloudless night illuminated by the moon
that shine on the beggar kid
who just want a silver spoon

My love,
do you see what I see?
amidst the edifices of banal desire
where money is gain and power is win
there is a man who never had money nor power
since he was born

My love,
do you see what I see?
there’s a couple fighting outside the bar
the woman accuse him of kissing with the waitress
and the man accuse her of fornicating with the bartender
both of them understand that the flame has ceased to exist
and they only want an excuse to begin with

My love,
do you see what I see?
your figure standing in the balcony
hanging your head and lost in thought
you think of many things except me
for I see what you don’t see
the face of love
for someone, not I

Author: Alvin Dharma

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Suspirium

Suspirium of impression
Love at the time of occupation
Obviously clearly want to go
But was surprised to see the argo

Suspirium of being curious
Think about how to make a chorus
But don’t have a piano
Can’t play an instrument, oh no

Suspirium of an attempt
Some chats that were rescript
1 minute compared to 47 minutes
Start to be self solicitous

Suspirium of reality
Dusk with scenery of unacceptability
Saw her with some branded clothes
Mirror myself, hypercriticize

Suspirium of dejected
Unreasonable and unwarranted
Do you think loving is easy?
No kidding, it’s a messy

Suspirium of conclusion
Send this when media social is on
Smarting by reason of love
Time can’t be halved

Author: Farhan Yugarpaksi

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Eloquent Silence

I sat there with the eloquent silence, with the laughter and tears that are not meant to be heard, yet felt. Having a conversation with sanity on how to stay sane with all the insanity around. Asking the voiceless sound that was on the verge of breaking out, how to stay quiet with all the madness around.
Not one shows any sign of answering the questions.

Distracted, uncertain, anxious, yet thrilled.

Then I start asking happiness, how to stay blossom when the garden is on fire.
Asking how love felt when it was humiliated, betrayed.
You are not ought to feel helpless, do not run away from yourself, they said.
Conquer your demons, love until nothing left but ashes in your bones.

The conversations went on for years
My brain attained the answers, yet stills no sign of knowing how to execute them.
Then patience came out and told me not to give up yet, told me to stop asking questions and let heart find its way out of the opaqueness.

(by Dimitri Josephine)

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Above The Nicobar

Out in the heaven so blue
swirls the silvering clouds,
with the edges fly, and monsoon dies,
men challenged the storm, and with thunder crushed.

What violence, said the men,
could rattle the canopy and
tear the fiery rays asunder?
or quisle the dying gold of Her grandiose,
or maul the sun till ocean’s bleed.

And underneath, the ocean foams and twirls,
with Gods and Goddesses from the river’s rage.
All men, women in silk and hued zest sing
“be calm, sea - the ashes of my love sleep therein!”

Underneath, the devil and Poseidon are chanting
lullaby and haunting serenade
to bid the Nicobar coast a sweet dream.

Sea of turmoil, will you speak
the hour of my death?
until the restful temper of eve
claims Nicobar an Eden

Author: Sarita Diang

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Blue

Maybe it is just one of his random notion,
Or the result of his complex contemplation,
When he blurted out his favourite tone out of summer hue’s gradation
Blue is the calmest colour, he said, it is the epitome of a tragic illusion.

Just look at the sky, he continues without any hesitation,
The bluish hue is just another form of deception,
letting us believe that the sky is within our reach, messing with our ideal conception.
His view of the said tint sadly filled with too much contradiction.

Little that he knows that I agree to disagree on his revelation,
As what I see from the hue itself is the reason for my opposition,
Blue reminds me of him, the object of my absolute adoration,
Filling my sleepless nights with memories that are worth to mention.

If only he knows,
maybe he would finally give the said tint its deserving appreciation.

Penulis: Jennifer Jaenata

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The Bloody Moon

If my heart has to tell something
it will tell a tale of the moon
rotating subritiously
the orbital defect
and it will shine, shine
bloody like a bitter daydream
soon perished into eclipse
as I hide,
in the far side of the moon

Author & artwork: Poetry Prairie

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Tamu Besar

Tamu besar berbadan besar
Datang membawa masalah besar
Romannya terang-terangan berbinar
Melihat semua orang menjadi cahar
Kala itu,jika kau melihat adanya, mata semua orang berpendar
Seperti jelaga yang dibakar
Semua jelas menjadi nanar
Hilang semua koar-koar

“Itukah algojo kehidupan, wahai Tuhan yang Maha Besar?”
“Seperti burung yang berkuar.”

Izrail bisa jadi adalah manusia yang besar
Tidak menatar
Malah meratakan pasar
Tidak siap menyajikan repertoar
Berserobok dengan manusia nestapa di sudut kota yang buyar

“Kita bisa mati, lebih mati dari yang kemarin, mati yang lebih kasar.”

Tanah ini akan ia jadikan rumah manusia-manusia besar

Penulis: Alwi Yusran

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Kepada Laut

:mengenang We Cudai

Di dermaga dekat kotaku
Kau adalah laut yang paling palung
Sejejer karang karam di dasar sukmamu
Menyeruak cahaya dalam gulita katakata

Segerombol camar kerap ramai mengunjungiku
Sekedar berbagi berita tentang dirimu yang tak lagi biru
Ombakmu yang berhenti bisu
Atau anginmu yang lupa deru

Di suatu senja yang asin
Cecar tanya berlomba
Guyur di atas luka yang makam.

Makassar, 2017

Penulis: Syahrir Baso Pajalesang

To The Ocean
Reminiscing We Cudai

At the quay near my town
You are the ocean with deepest trough
Along side of sinking corals at the bottom of your soul
Lights beamed from the darkness of words

A flock of gulls often visited me
To share stories about you that is no longer blue
Your mute waves
Or your wind that forgets to roar

In one salty twilight
Rally of questions begin to race
Deluge over the grave of wound

Makassar, 2017

Author: Syahrir Baso Pajalesang

Translated by Poetry Prairie

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Senja yang Marah

Senja yang marah
Merajuk sepi di penghujung hari
Mengingat segala liku
Membasuh segala luka
Mengikat segala lupa 

Tetes keringat dari langit
menyeruak aroma kepulangan yang dinanti sejak waktu.
Jika kembali adalah hatimu
maka pergi adalah perih yang mesti diikhlaskan
_sebisa mungkin.

Senja semakin marah
Sebab jemari kata seringkali hunus yang paling tajam
Mencabik maruah yang disemat setinggi tiangtiang penantian
Mengoyak diri sehasta demi sehasta
Melawan gerus yang dipahat waktu
_sekuat tenaga.

Senja masih saja marah.
Di suatu sepi yang menyendiri,
kepulan asa telah menggantung di sudut mata.

Palopo, 2017

Penulis: Syahrir Baso Pajalesang

WRATH OF TWILIGHT

A wrath of twilight
Sulking silently when day ends
Recall every twist
Wash out every wound
Tie up every obliviousness

The sweat drops from the sky
bursting the scent of homecoming that has been awaited
If return is your heart
then go is the pain that must be endure whole-heartedly
_as strong as possible.

The wrath of dusk is getting deeper
Because fingers of words mostly the sharpest thrust
Tearing dignity apart as high as piles of waiting
Ripped us bit by bit
Battling the carving of time
_with all might.

Dusk still keeps its wrath.
In secluded loneliness
the cloud of hope string up in the eye’s corner.

Palopo, 2017


Author: Syahrir Baso Pajalesang

Translated by Poetry Prairie

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Membatu Di Depan Kaca

Selepas tidak melakukan apa-apa, lalu apa-apa tidak bisa dilakukan, karena batas mengatur setiap apa: beku yang terjamah mata—pikiran terlanjur menjadi negara, mengapung atas pertanyaan sendiri.

Aku tak tahu.
Ketika menemuimu, sebuah pistol melekat di pipi, tak terasa ledaknya tapi mulut tak bisa bersuara, itu sekilas cahaya.
Denyar membawa jiwa karam ke dasar seperti sebuah pasar. Berbinar-binar warna perempuan melekat di kaca dan gambar-gambar kapitalis.

Mati sajalah aku. Cekik celanaku.
Seorang anak kecil datang dari sebuah toko menyodorkan proposal. Aku tak punya apa-apa. Apa dia mau mendengar dongeng filsafat?

Mati sajalah aku.
Aku terus dibawa tanpa paksa atau provokasi. Tanpa suapan atau negosiasi yang lebih demokratis.
Tubuhku membatu di depan kaca.
Cahaya itu basah, mengalir.

Penulis: M. Roisul K.

—

PETRIFIED IN THE MIRROR

After doing nothing, then everything cannot be done, because limitation regulates everything: the frozen untouched by eyes -mind has became a state, floating above questions.

I don’t know.
When I met you, a pistol was right next to the cheek, I felt the explosion but mouth is soundless, in a glimpse of light.
Trills wrecked the soul to a market-like floor. Glowing colors of women are embedded in mirrors and capitalist pictures.

Just let me die. Choke my pants.
A little boy came from a shop with a proposal. I have nothing. Did he want to hear a philosophy tales?

Just let me die.
I was constantly taken without force or provocation. Without bribery or democratic negotiation.
My body was petrified in front of the mirror.
The light was wet, flowing.

Author: M. Roisul K.
Translated by Poetry Prairie

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