POEM BY SRI WINTALA ACHMAD I

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


THE DAYTIME'S DOWNPOUR
(Short Letter for Tukoku Kamei)

Under the sky the arousing timpani of thunder
The Rain's gratings were her curving fingers
Playing the violin of defeat
For all dreams about the deteriorating sun
Buried no strewn flowers, but
Sadness the rain played on old tins
Felt by her it was the triangle
Pouring its tears out
From the deepest hurt heart
To twilight where the day
Closing its black screen


FOR POET WHO BURNS THE GOD'S HOLY BOOK
(for Mathori A. Elwa)

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


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."


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?


THE OLD CITY STATION

The old city' station you'd left behind
It was just as man's bed, after
Fighting to the sun
As fate as the singing beggar you sang about tears
On the rock which hadn't been finished for a day yet. But
When the new station had been in front of eyes
The hell your face, then
Would you still wrote poems above all dreams
Created by the train trip


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


UNDER THE WAVING FLAG

The waving flag of the old building
It was like an eagle forgotten by wind's fingers
Whose wings scratched for the red sky forever
Up to the color of twilight the country
Burnt by fire put out from its owners' heart -- the ones
Singing "Indonesia Raya" in all together. But
Their sound the hoarse trumpet's
Blown in the new years
Under the flag whose waving spirit
It Never reflected their ancestors' desire