A Caramel Miracle
Gentlest of pitter-patter
Soft transient steps on immaculate floor tiles
Glistening eyes that master
The art of soft magnetized gazes
To any moving life form
Gooey stares of affection
Drooling with juvenile exuberance
In the veneers of a pristine near-nakedness
A caramel Eros with no bow and arrow in sight
Just the pumping fists of a placid fury, a mellow restlessness,
As Aeolus's lip-lock brushes his naked clay
Coats of stroma awaiting springtime,
To spring forth a progeny of fuzzy follicles
Locks that crown his apical globe,
Sprinkled with fledgling wits, cocooned in to a spherical fortress
As he speaks the language of love
A vernacular that spans a boundless continuum
From fecundity to zygotic evolution
To the virgin light that softly settles on the retina
As the eye lids unveil God's miracle
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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A Drop of Rain
Dropping from unforeseen heights
From within the resonating heart of a weeping Nimbus
As the cloud cover lazily distends
To plaster the limitless wall of a heavenly fortress
In its luscious coatings of an Azure complexion
As celestial tear ducts seep a valiant tear
Dropping from apical altitudes to the suspecting soil
Sun parched land veiling the secrets of the earth
As beneath the cracked veneers, a bed of seed await their turn
To pack the soil with die-hard stems of leafy chimneys
To save mankind from the guillotines of a sun-baked terrain
Germinating the hopes of the magicians of the soil, Midas's apostles
Sowing their seed with a wand of thought, firmly clasped in to their palms
As a luscious November awaits for a sprinkle from the heavens
The legacy of the seasonal Monsoon, a promise from the Gods
To cultivate hope even in the direst of landscapes
To burgeon the soil with tides of green, for a timely transformation in to golden grains,
As a single droplet of water from the rupturing skies
Metamorphosed arid despair to steadfast optimism
The promise of a fertile crescent logging with golden grains of Serendipity
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Migrant Heart
The hold of the deep-rooted heart
Imprints laid on the impressionable soil
Toil shed on perforated veneers, sun-baked terrain
Fusing to the die-hard ethos of the land
Cultivating seeds of destiny, harvesting grains of serendipity
Yet the seasonal winds rampant, the birth of change inevitable
The call of an opportune cupidity trading the unsuspecting heart
To trade winds of migration, blown to unfamiliar frontiers
As vessels are docked, cultures are exchanged
Anchors are declined, new beginnings are unveiled
Journey of the heart to the potpourri of pluri-culturism
To the divine truth of homogeneity, the bounty of a universal being
Sons and daughters of the same mother, her supremeness, the ubiquitous Gaia
Pilgrims of the same sun, a sultry yellow dwarf
Nomads of the same azure curtain, a boundless blue giant
Yet scathing and bleeding is the alienated heart
As scarecrows are forgone for the snow men of winter
No longer holding the hand out for the pitter-patter of the monsoons
As snow befalls to the chilliness of a winter's alienation
As the heart searches for the bygone times
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Barbie Love
Pig tails and skipping ropes
Starry eyes that glitter in the pale moonlight
Counting candles, as lofty dreams germinate in their tiny temples
Aspiring to the heavens, wannabe Barbies mastering the trade of flight
To soar in to the open skies, as cocoons are absented by dazzling butterflies,
Svelte creatures fluttering their gossamer wings
God ‘s bounty of tantalizing curves and generous coastlines
Snaring gorging eyes, magnetized stares
Of men and boys alike, telepathic puppeteers
Of a paltry gender endowed the game of the chase, the legacy of testosterone
As they wag their tales and tongues, playful creatures
Tethered to soaring hemlines and plunging necklines
The tease of the sway, the dilemma of the gaze
The suppleness of the breasts, the sensuality of the lips
As earthly goddesses walk circles around tranced postures
Pirouetting gazes caught in the whirlwinds of lust
Lost in a fog of pheromones, flushed in to bouts of passion
Entrapment within labyrinths for the meek-hearted, domesticated mice of Hamlin
Queuing up for Barbie worship, as hearts are trampled
In the battle of the sexes on Venus's backyards
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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A Mercenary
The soil as his witness, walking on footpaths
Self-laid, the soul a renegade
No ownerships of the reckless heart
Except for an illusory god, hung by a thread
The soul pacifier in this no man's land
Walking in alleyways and backstreets
In cocaine country, pushed by the palms of fate
To a frontier, where destiny is snorted up the nostrils
To soar to the heights of Seraphim, towering above the heavens
A shrouded mission of a lone warrior, a man of many masks
Blending in to the theatrics of the narcotic kings
As humanity is razed for their daily wages
Where powders reign, deceptively virgin in hue
On table tops and within hollow chambers of ungainly barrels
As law men fall like the Amazonian rainforests
Logs of human flesh covered in sanguine coats
Floating on to river banks and beds
Yet he thrives in this bloodshed landscape
A chameleon in thespian action, fusing in to the bleakest of backdrops
Even snorting bliss, as anointment, an investiture to a ominous practice
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Hand That Rocks The Cradle
I am a ravaging glutton,
In perfect equilibrium,
With the great wide open,
Her highness, the limitless atmosphere,
Her ally in the zeniths of battle,
Against the greenhouse dragons that rage fire,
From the deepest of gorges;
To resurrect the temperatures,
To unforeseen heights, scales that rock towards,
The heavens as the greenhouse monsters,
Raze the harmonious islanders,
Maldivians, Kiribatians even the Chagos islanders,
As they scamper to mounds or hillocks;
Or seek greener pastures,
In the emerald coatings of Botany Bay;
Yet I exist, the nemesis of greenhouse monsters,
Gobbling up tides of gigantic vapors,
Through my stromata, my sensuous lips,
That scan the vast opens for a passionate lock,
To scavenge cowardly dragons that exhale fire;
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Kunta Kinte
The galvanizing torrents of the Gambia,
In these backwaters of a luscious Casamance
The Mandinka mettle reverberates to a sashay of currents
A heritage unspoilt, unscathed and pristine in its bounty
A colossal iceberg parched by the African sun
One in spirit with the ferocious surge of a Gambian princess
Roar of a primal Lion, pitter-patter of a lone tribal warrior
Lighter than a feather yet rooted to her legacy
The bough of a Baobab, standing regal and tall
Against the ferocious presence of an omniscient Ra
Tirelessly exuding her radiance in an act of a sweltering defiance
At the icy façades of the palest of hues, marching with barking canines
Hollow ungainly barrels clasped in hand, fedoras burning on the crown
As the copious backwaters were transformed to a trading colony
Where humanity was anchored to power-wielding collars and the clatter of chains
As a precious destiny was swindled by sweeping winds of subjugation
As the roaming white man, tainted white water with sanguine smears
As the supreme heritage of a foolhardy warrior persona
Died a million deaths, to rise back up again two centuries later
As she, the Mandinka heritage levitated from the ashes, like a dexterous Phoenix
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Pitter-Patter
The sound of pitter-patter
Around the scintillating corona of a blazing bonfire
In the bleakness of a sun-parched terrain
On cracked veneers where jagged scripts are engraved
In the tongue of the earth, screeching towards the heavens
As the beats of the palms, on svelte drum heads
Even the reverberating echoes of a warrior persona
Calls forth a deluge from the heavens
As the soil awaits its call for a metamorphosis from within
For the seeds of the earth to leaven, to spiral
Towards a larger than life mural of a cascading Azure curtain
To embrace falling tears from the breaching heavens
To carry forth in their arms, the bed of civilization
A bequest of the gods, the seepage of celestial tear ducts
To spawn a grove of shoots, to engender a gathering of life forms
To divide and multiply in gay abandon,
Listening to the melodies of a different pitter-patter
One calling forth the genesis of life, to the bleakest of land
As the pulsating drum beats transform to a thanksgiving prayer
An oratorio resonating towards the heavens
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Black and White
Black and White By Dilantha Gunawardana
A story in black and white
Black and white;
Black in white; perhaps black on white;
White embedded in black;
Black around white, sprinkle or a speckle even a trickle;
Shadows on the porch on an eerie white night;
A piano keyboard, intertwined in ebony and white;
A checker or a droughts board or lofty chess pieces;
Black stallions and white mares;
All galloping in the pursuit of unending happiness;
A flow of nimbus with a speckle of cumulus;
Showers of blessings, black rain and even snow and hale;
The smog that kisses the snow flake clouds;
Chimneys and embers inside snowy winter bungalows;
We begin in ashes, black residual ashes;
Connected to a white umbilical cord;
We are born white, virgins in every sphere of life;
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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A Poya Day
A throne draped in virgin white
Flowing gently in the mildest of mistrals
Like the gentle flight of a coasting crane
Under the lofty branches of a lonely Bo tree
As the bountiful leaves part with a vivacious rhapsody
The rustle of shelves of leaves, elating the prospering dew
Yearning to spring on the unsuspecting feet of the passing crowds
As Aurora unveiled the promise of a Poya day
As the gathering crowd await the advent of a scholarly monk
For reverberating wisdom to burgeon the mind
In the fluidity of a heavenly ataraxia, a serendipitous tranquility
Tides of an apical serenity embracing the sands of the porous psyche
As the mistral gathers vivacity, a lonely monk ascends to his apical seat
A worldly acumen resonates from the epicenter of the monk's voluble lips
To harness grains of benevolence, to nurture the voracious appetites of thawing minds
To cater to the famished intellect, to engender a transformation from within
To fuse in to the resonance of goodwill a lonely monk bestows
Worldly wisdom jumping across through mental faucets
To enliven the conscience, to lend a helping hand to the marginalized
All this wrapped in the articulate sermons of a Poya day
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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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