PARADE OF POETRIES
By 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
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
AFTER MAKING LOVE WITH NIGHT
Today, it's waste of coffee in the cup
and the worst dream
Fried by the sun
THE CLOUDED MORNING
By telephone someone told
:"Your mother has left old station
No waving hand and words!"
THE MACHINE MOUSE’S DEATH
Struck against the truck, the machine-mouse
His blood that flew on the street
: As smile as farmers' sweat
MY QUEEN AND MY SUN
The eyes my queen's
: A couple of silver dews
When made love to my sun
THE MAN IN THE SUNS
Shot by a time's arrow
the man's heart was burnt
by the suns
BEFORE SLEEPING
In the refrigerator
the sun kept
freezing as a time bomb
TAKING LIFE IN THE CLASS
From the teacher's blackboard
26 letters and 10 figures jumped
into my son's head
Lying in thousands viruses
LOVE I
Rose and thorn
making love on the vase
GAMBLER
Opening the second heart '10 card
After the first king
The gambler tore all
On his last death's table
BESIDE THE POOL
My son threw a little stone into the pool
creating much wave of power. But
He had been lost his shadow of dreams
IN THE OLD NIGHT
As a best night's friend
the poet buried his dream for all stars
into the poetry dug as a tomb
before the sun would kill him again
in the other fighting
CHILDREN STUDIED DRAWING IN THE CITY
All buildings the children had drawn in the city
: their tombstone of death, after
they were killed by the teachers
in a slaughter school
PLAYING GUITAR
it has fallen in love, the man
Plays guitar up to the highest scale
Bringing about one of its broken strings
tore to rags his heart
LOVE II
The black pool the man's house
Where you'd come into it
as a white lotus
MY SON AND HIS PC
In front of the PC, my son peeped at his God
Beyond the perforated windows
:"He sings love, whilst
Drinks off some bottles of Vodka, Dad!"
My son had been angry, since
the peeped God wasn't as great as the praised
in his grandfather's old Holy Script. Then
He put thousands macros into the PC, so that
the godliness would be killed intelligently
THE SCULPTURE OF STONE
The sculpture of stone the man
Had no dream again, for
His head was been sawn by time
as a nicest thieve last night
MY ROOM FRIEND IN AFTERNOON
In the room all hands of o'clock
Hunted the little boy drooping beside steel door
Locked by his father having work for a day
PARANGBOLONG IN EVENING
Diving into the sea, the sun
Put on a couple of golden fins
and swam to fishers' fish-hook
: Those metropolitan men being hungry to love
FOLDING SUN
The sun the man folded once more
: Its heat was hell
Created by him to be greatest king's crown
for queen from misty empire
: The heaven of heart
MY SON AND THE POOL
My son threw a little stone
into the pool creating its arrogance
"Dad, I don't have my shadow again"
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
THE DAILY BOOK
I
No leaves I look at
Making green for the earth
The sun is my daily enemy
II
Like the earth I miss sun
The man who will change
Revenge to be love
III
The window I shall open
Your heart having been closed
When the love changes to be dog pound
IV
The sun you see
The love that gives honey
By his fire burning your soul
V
Coffee you put on the table
Your love of all loves, after
We have made love in this night
VI
Taking all of dreams on the bed
Up to sleeping is as a nicest space, when
Night has been fulfilled by rainbows
VII
What long I have wait you
The dearest in my nice dream crashed
By wind when the morning comes
VIII
Seeing wave in the chest
She is an ocean teaching me
About mysterious of love
IX
The sun flowing on day’s river
Being like her burning my frozen hope
After the night the ocean of ice
X
The rainbow that makes colorful curve
Like gate in which I shall come into
The stupid jokers’ house
XI
The blue sky the poem of love
She creates for me
When the sun shall come back
To his night bed
XII
No ones I have caught
All of them pass like wind
But my heart can feel about
XIII
Being back to your home
After going around the time
As watch’s hands which wants
To stop at the end point of 00.00
XIV
Candle stirring up the desire of love
Makes you sad, when the night
Just the clot of silence is
XV
Opening the cover of daily book
When you want to stay for a moment
Visiting to the forgotten love’s home
XVI
Nothing I know where the wind comes from
Going too far no saying goodbye, after
Putting out candle’s flame in the visiting room
SRI WINTALA ACHMAD had ever studied in Gajah Mada University Yogyakarta. His poems, short stories, and essays are published in Suara Pembaruan, Republika, Lampung Pos, Solo Pos, Kedaulatan Rakyat, Bernas, Minggu Pagi, Artista, Ayodya, Bhakti, Djaka Lodang, Mekar Sari, Jayabaya, Kuntum, and so on.
His collective anthologies of poem are Pelangi (1988), Nirmana (1990), Alif Lam Mim (1992), Zamrud Katulistiwa (1997), Sastra Kepulauan (1999), Embun Tajjali (2000), Lirik Lereng Merapi (2000), Pasar Kembang (2000), Di Batas Jogja (2001), and Code (2005). His collective anthology of the text of drama is Bilah Belati di Depan Cermin (2004). His collective anthology of essay is Musik Puisi Nusantara (2005).
His name of literature has noted in the Buku Pintar Sastra Indonesia (Pamusuk Eneste, published by Penerbit Kompas), Directory of the Men/Women of Letters and Culture from Java (published by Kongres Bahasa Jawa III) in Yogyakarta, and Directory of the 500 Artists Yogyakarta (published by Taman Budaya Yogyakarta).
Beside as a poet, he works as writer, translator, editor, and graphic designer. Address: Gejawan Kulon 02/034, Balecatur, Gamping, Sleman, Yogyakarta, Indonesia. Email: achmad_eswa@yahoo.com.
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