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C REATIVE orner
Is It a Dark Cloud? Is it a dark cloud? I asked myself In a gloomy day Shattered in hope; In a day longed for A happy ending! With a simple hope to See a golden strike of light; Yeah, I know now. It was a Dark Cloud That drained my mind; Which made me moody. But, luckily vanished now! From the path, Longed to cross… Leaving a hope of, NO, NEVER AGAIN! By Leo Thimasha Gunawardhana 47
Bus Stop When the morning sun rays Light the world, There’s a vision of an ant nest Not really ants But People In a bus stop Long vehicles heading all the directions, Conductors on footboards Screaming names of destinations Infants, kids, children Youths, adults, seniors All in one place Those who arrived early, would sit and stare, Of the mess, sometimes with plugged ear phones, Listening to music or just to avoid noises Those who arrived late, would run, Like marathons, Just to hang in the upper bar Sweat running, hair messing, Bothered by the loud music which The drivers play to entertain the passengers Women in office wear Frowning everywhere For they are afraid of being robbed Girls in uniforms Looking for some space For they are afraid of being groped Strong men seeking resting spots in women’s shoulders At the last moment, when the bus is about to go People packed like canned sardines, Entered a woman, Five months pregnant, heading to the hospital All strong men were suddenly sleeping, All beautiful ladies were suddenly on calls, A grandma with a head full of grey hair Almost 75 years old Stood up and offered her seat. By Leo Sathini Weerasinghe 48
They say rain is always followed by a rainbow Yet not every rain comes with its own iris in tow Only dread, daunting aftermath in a little bow Stranded all alone to find pieces as storm blow When rainbow too prideful, fails to show up In their ornate glory, and boundless optimism Wallow then ink poetry, a new world open up Visceral touching deep same shaped parallelism Now a common enemy for everyone who waits Breaks neck looking for a silver lining overdue For another soul that rainbow deny joyful fates Poetry, the slave of battered war brittle hearts true Slave of Poetry By Leo Gayanee Buwaneka 49