From the teacher's blackboard
26 letters and 10 figures jumped
into my son's head
Lying in thousands viruses
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
Tuesday, June 5, 2018
THE MAN AND THE SUN
Shot by a time's arrow
the man's heart was burnt
by the suns
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
the man's heart was burnt
by the suns
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
MY QUEEN AND MY SUN
The eyes my queen's
: A couple of silver dew
When made love to my sun
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
: A couple of silver dew
When made love to my sun
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
MY SON AND THE POOL
into the pool creating its arrogance
"Dad, I don't have my shadow again"
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
THE CLIMBER’S PRAY
If I've been climbed on your mountain
Of course, you won't want the wind
Putting out my flag
But the signal you give forever
Through its language of fire
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
Of course, you won't want the wind
Putting out my flag
But the signal you give forever
Through its language of fire
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
FOR POET WHO BURNS THE GOD'S HOLY BOOK
We'd witnessed
The poet burnt the god' script
By way of the raging egoism
On the past big wok
Dwarf men dancing
Went all around the big wok, while
Sang for poet's victory
On one dream as the god of gods
After the fire was out
And they began to be tired for dancing
The poet webbed for the sake of shortcomings
Bought by no poetry's purchasing power
As the witness
I'd written it more
The poet took his life
By way of his revenge's fire
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
The poet burnt the god' script
By way of the raging egoism
On the past big wok
Dwarf men dancing
Went all around the big wok, while
Sang for poet's victory
On one dream as the god of gods
After the fire was out
And they began to be tired for dancing
The poet webbed for the sake of shortcomings
Bought by no poetry's purchasing power
As the witness
I'd written it more
The poet took his life
By way of his revenge's fire
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
MY SON AND ZIDAN
My son asked for plastic ball
"I dream to be Zidan, dad"
At my home yard -- as wide as bathroom
Under Zidan he trained playing soccer
"Don't be him honored as the greatest king
In gold bird's cake, when His brittle feet
aren't powerful for just one goal!"
At the soccer's field -- as wide as Senayan
My son who was a little referee
Stabbed Zidan's heart by red card
The super star was dead in long sadness
My son asked for individual ball
"Dad, I'll play soccer without him
In the prison which was wider than world."
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
"I dream to be Zidan, dad"
At my home yard -- as wide as bathroom
Under Zidan he trained playing soccer
"Don't be him honored as the greatest king
In gold bird's cake, when His brittle feet
aren't powerful for just one goal!"
At the soccer's field -- as wide as Senayan
My son who was a little referee
Stabbed Zidan's heart by red card
The super star was dead in long sadness
My son asked for individual ball
"Dad, I'll play soccer without him
In the prison which was wider than world."
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
Monday, June 4, 2018
TERBOYO TERMINAL IN THE EARLY MORNING
Suddenly, the bus visiting at terminal
Just spreading seeds of desire. But
Why did the dark sky cry for bus' howls
Going down one by one?
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
Just spreading seeds of desire. But
Why did the dark sky cry for bus' howls
Going down one by one?
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
THE KILLED MECHANICAL MOUSE
On the street of the center city
The mechanical mouse had been killed
Her heart was broken by police's bullet
The men having a head of wild boar
But her mouth' spittle the fragrance of farmers' sweat
The people flowing love more
As clear as river's water under green hill
To the farms burnt by the dry season' sun
The mechanical mouse had been dead
No ceremony, flower, candle, prayer, tear
And terrible news written by news papers
Cause the death had been a common case
In this country known well
As God's empire. But
It would be recorded in the books of poetry
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
The mechanical mouse had been killed
Her heart was broken by police's bullet
The men having a head of wild boar
But her mouth' spittle the fragrance of farmers' sweat
The people flowing love more
As clear as river's water under green hill
To the farms burnt by the dry season' sun
The mechanical mouse had been dead
No ceremony, flower, candle, prayer, tear
And terrible news written by news papers
Cause the death had been a common case
In this country known well
As God's empire. But
It would be recorded in the books of poetry
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
Sunday, June 3, 2018
THE CLOUDED MORNING
By telephone someone told
:"Your mother has left old station
No waving hand and words!"
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
:"Your mother has left old station
No waving hand and words!"
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
MY SON DREW CAT
The cat my son had drawn
It face was his, after
Stealing his mother’s fried salt fish
from her plate
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
It face was his, after
Stealing his mother’s fried salt fish
from her plate
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
MONDAY MORNING
Time's hands dug tomb at yard
for the man taking his life, because
the sun's cost was more expensive
than the rainbow's
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
for the man taking his life, because
the sun's cost was more expensive
than the rainbow's
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
THE HOUSE OF TOMB
The house where I live in
As my tomb has no candle's light
But darkness which shall kill you
Making no hurts to your body
-Sri Wintala Achamd-
As my tomb has no candle's light
But darkness which shall kill you
Making no hurts to your body
-Sri Wintala Achamd-
STUDENTS UNLIKE THE FORMULA OF X + X = 2X
By their teacher, students
are thought about the formula
x + x = 2x. therefore
they are angry. Caused that
it is an exact thing
which shan't make them rich
as ones living in the poor country
opens the door for all thieves. Then
they like that it is x + x = 2x
no paying attention with others
living in the sadness
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
are thought about the formula
x + x = 2x. therefore
they are angry. Caused that
it is an exact thing
which shan't make them rich
as ones living in the poor country
opens the door for all thieves. Then
they like that it is x + x = 2x
no paying attention with others
living in the sadness
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
POEM YOU'VE WRITTEN
No poem you've written
but words that make a nice dream
Although they are only fire balls
Related each other as the sun
Burning you before the door you open
Going from home to fight
With yourselves fate
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
but words that make a nice dream
Although they are only fire balls
Related each other as the sun
Burning you before the door you open
Going from home to fight
With yourselves fate
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
NOTHING YOU WRITE ON THE DAILY BOOK
Why do you still write on the daily book
If the sun rises from east and shines to west
There are no new things, but
The routine activity making a cause
You want to kill yourselves
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
If the sun rises from east and shines to west
There are no new things, but
The routine activity making a cause
You want to kill yourselves
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
WHEN THE LOVE IS DEAD
The love you ever assumed as God
It's just the lamp having no light
When your dearest sells her heart
To the prostitution markets, then
What will you hope from her
But the body that is owned by dead women
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
It's just the lamp having no light
When your dearest sells her heart
To the prostitution markets, then
What will you hope from her
But the body that is owned by dead women
-Sri Wintala Achmad-
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