Poetry in Our Time

Mathura M. Lattik (Mathura)
Fragrant juniper wood
beneath the reed eaves,
a garden full of birds
and chestnuts in blossom,
a great bright light
gathers in their crowns
as I lie on the ground,
looking up.
By evening I am again
herdsman of the dark sky;
I await a new
day and clarity.
Before I drop off, the sun appears
flaring up
in the ashen clouds.
Everyone is left naked
for a moment before themselves.
Hands that reach
into unfinished grey
Unfinished the hands
unfinished the grey
In a sketchbook
of time,
a lifetime
spent on dreaming
But once
you’re safely sleeping,
let remembering be done away with
as the pale moon swallows everything
An old striped sack
will be enough
to carry all you’ll ever need
A sketchbook, some berries
a handful of light
Mathura M. Lattik is an Estonian writer and poet, author of eight collections of poetry and a short novel. He has won the Gustav Suits Literary Award and the Annual County Culture Award of the Estonian Cultural Endowment. His work has been translated into a dozen languages.
Angelina Bong 
1: Blues
Forlorn island
in her eyes, she speaks of blue
rhythms, tears in toxic tones.
Deep blue mountains, spiky edges
Hike that never seems to reach peak.
Navy netted traps lay amongst thorny
bushes, each
a hurdle
Heat pierces, intense blue skies
not a fluff of cloud stain. Blue
black spots marred with crimson
sits on her skin
She takes a break
White blue mist blows
on pale blue face, heart beat mellows
Valleys and fields stare back, yellow
blue dots, scenery she never sees. Surreal even
Towering blues above her, brighter hues
surround her, blue green sea
swells in pools of pupils, she
embraces beauty
in blues.
2: Two poems interconnected together, to form one.
I wish to help
I wish to use
as explanation
At least I know
Invisible bruises
Pain throbs
every movement
as if middle spine
Canvas lies
My fingers
My purest touch
Mama cleans
house inside out
Her fingers
fitter than mine
flying like dragonflies
but deep rooted
My lungs
bellows for help
so I can
help her
Imageries of doctors
tests and tubes
smell of hospital sanity
screamed insanity
Nothing was wrong
Nothing was right either
Battlefield not
a refuge
Shoulders bend backwards
shoots hammer through
upper back
down to bladder
Green phlegm
throws in arrows
cough conquers
Gratitude swells
at Mama’s non expectations
Aunty’s too
Canvas is still
empty as I
I am fighting
Fibro Attack
Or is it
Something else?
I hear a voice
Faint Humming
If I am a nightingale,
I will sing to the moon and back,
Like in a fairytale, melt darkest shades
of bitterness
If I am a sunflower,
I will beam and hover over
your coldest nights, a beacon
in your fights
If I am a bee
I will sting you, a reminder
that you are never alone, I am
near you
If I am a marula tree,
I will let you hide under
my gigantic leaves, far
from warfare
If I am a float,
I will let you rest on me,
bobbing on the sea, wash your
tears away
If I am a fortress,
I will shield you from storms,
depression and distressing
If I am a needle,
I will weave and mend
your broken heart, my golden
pricks set you free
Alas, I am only
human, as real as you,
even if you do not hear or see
me, my heart is yours
My only wish, spring
will dance soon, sweeps
away winter, your woes
shrivel and wither
My shoulders are small,
but ready for your tears,
my heartbeats hug
you in pain
Perhaps then
I can see a smile
Even if for a while
Not on your face
Within you
Voice left, humming ended.
I never get to see human angel who spoke to me.
My heart was so blue it
turned black
but you know what?
I can finally breathe
through this cage.
Angelina Bong is a Sarawakian-born, Malaysian poet and visual artist with a background in Fashion. She represented Malaysia at the 3rd Delphic Games 2009, South Korea in the Lingual Art-Poetry category. Since then, she has read and performed physically in Malaysia, South Africa, Botswana, UK, Australia, India, Brunei, Egypt and Japan with poems translated into Korean, Malayalam, Japanese, French, Arabic and Malay. She is published online and in print including several poetry anthologies.
Agus R. Sarjono
You must be demoratic.
Alright, but please pull your fist
from my forehead. Shouldn’t you be…
Shut up! It is entirely up to me whether my fist
will be placed on your forehead, or in my pocket,
or to be punched on your nose.
The important thing is that you must be democratic.
Besides, we are not talking about me, but
about you. Meaning you must be democratic!
Of course, I agree, didn’t I’ve always tried to…
Cut it out! We don’t want to listen
to your arguments. No need to waste time
defending yourself. I order you to be democratic,
end of discussion!
Beware, the mobs of democrats that we’ve gathered
will crush you down. So from now on,
no more tricks, you must be democratic.
Beware if you are not!
Translated by Nikmah Sarjono
Dear editors,
allow me to make some complaints
and a small suggestion. That crane
on the river bank has been standing there alone
for nine consecutive nights,
that the frogs and the fish feel reluctant to mate,
whereas the moon is shining so beautifully.
While nine handwaves ago,
on the edge of a meadow, right at the bend of the road
toward the forest, a flower wept alone.
Her orange petals were lain fallow
beneath the shrub, abandoned.
Whereas every day she has always dressed her petals up
with morning dew.
I suggest the gloomy moonlight
floating above the pond to be paired
with a fawn standing on the edge of the forest,
whereas hunters have already gone
shouldering their ravin: an infatuated buck
collapsed by bullets strikes.
That’s all I have to say, I hope my letter
will benefit other readers
as well as a pair of butterflies
which trapped in my room’s window,
while the weather outside
is absolutely nice, cool, and fresh.
Translated by Nikmah Sarjono
Agus R. Sarjono (born 27 July 1962 in Bandung, West Java, Indonesia) is an Indonesian poet and author.[1] In 1988, he graduated from Department of Indonesian Literature of IKIP Bandung, and then finished his postgraduate program in Universitas Indonesia at the faculty of literature and cultural studies in 2002.
He writes poems, short stories, essays, critics, and drama, which have been published in Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei, and several journals in Germany, France, Netherlands, Poland, England, and the United States. His poems are included in more than twenty anthologies.
He works as a lecturer in the Theatre Department of STSI Bandung, as an editor of the literary magazine, Horison, and as the Program Director of The Jakarta Arts Council for the period of 2002–2006. He was a writer-in-residence at the International Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS) in Leiden from February through October 2001, courtesy of Poets of All Nations Foundation. From December 2002 to March 2003 he stayed in Langenbroich, Germany, as a guest writer of The Heinrich-Böll-Foundation.

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