What if I choose nothing?
What if I choose both?
What if I choose to be moderate?
If our lives contain many perspectives,
why we are forced to fit into any extreme?
Yogyakarta, December 25th, 2019-08.45 p.m.
*) Merry Christmas for those who celebrate it. Hope you guys are healthy and happy.
What’s growing up?
Elders told me to change
Told me that I should take care of myself
Arrange my mind
Repair my broken heart and soul
What’s growing up?
Motivator and self-development books told me to step out of the comfort zone
Should I swim across the ocean?
Should I jump from 160-floors building?
I don’t think I need to enter the dangerous zone
cause it already came on my way
What’s growing up?
If my age and mentality don’t match at all
I refuse to be called “little kid”, but my mentality says otherwise
How far the distance between my goals and the place I stand stiil?
My growth became the bridge that connects them
But, I can’t count how far I take a step
cause I don’t care about the distance
I’ll crawl, walk or run, whatever I want
No matter how far
Yogyakarta, December 24th, 2019-06.59 a.m.
My birth was a fate that He wrote
It’s not my authority to choose time, place or from the woman’s womb I was born into
She also had no authority to choose
who’s the child she’d be conceived and born
She’s a voice that I knew so well
I knew her from her calming heartbeat
when she held me in her embrace
She’s a familiar face
I knew her from her sincere smile
everytime she saw me
She’s the first word I could say
when I wasn’t able to speak yet
and understand how to spell a word
She’s a poetry that I never knew how to write
cause there’s no right diction to describe
Finally, only prayers that I can say
Hope Allah will always protect you
Yogyakarta, December 22nd, 2019-08.48 p.m.
*) Today is a Mother’s Day in Indonesia, so, I wrote this poem and dedicate it to all amazing mothers wherever they are, especially to my mother. I also wrote it in Indonesian version on https://www.kompasiana.com/lunaseptalisa/5dff4b8ed541df13d11482c2/ia-adalah-ibu
Still at the same place
Different time
Different feels
Whenever you told me to call you when I was in trouble
Still at the same place
Different time
Different feels
This longing seems like to tease me
reminds me of those memories
whenever it’s rain
whenever night created silence between us
Rain erases the dust that covered and burried our memories of December
just like how it removes a long dry season in a whole year
Yogyakarta, December 19th, 2019-06.12 a.m.
1.) Living in a Poem
Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be liked
because it doesn’t need many reasons to be liked or disliked
Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be understood
because it doesn’t need many theories to be understood or just to be enjoyed
Every word that lives in a poem, never asks to be praised
because it realizes that its existence may attract humiliation
Don’t want to be liked
Don’t want to be understood
Don’t want to be praised
It just wants life and freedom in a poem
where it doesn’t need to be bound to commas and dots
even you have freedom to interpret it as you want to be
as long as it has a chance to live once again
for the original article, click : https://www.kompasiana.com/lunaseptalisa/5d5dd582097f360fc0014f12/hidup-dalam-puisi
2.) I Want To Be Me
A friend told me that she’d be a secret code. Whether it’s a number, letter or picture. She told me that she’d be a mystery, even though it’s difficult, but interesting to guess and solve.
A friend told me that she’d be a wanderer. Whether a wanderer in her own world or in others world. She told me that she couldn’t endure and stay for a long time in a place that remembered her about her past.
“Too much wounds”, she replied.
A friend told me that she’d be a poem. She didn’t want to be a secret code because it’s too difficult for her. She didn’t want to be a wanderer because it’s too exhausting for her. Finally, she decided to be a poem so that she could hide the other side of her behind letter, space, words even commas and dots.
But, I don’t want to be a secret code, wanderer or poem. I want to be me with all the mysteries, past and wounds that shaped me to be someone who you know today.
for the original article : https://www.kompasiana.com/lunaseptalisa/5d23d0310d8230465a6207d7/aku-ingin-menjadi-aku
3.) Night That Lost A Conversation
That night, we tried to talk each other
You told me about a long dry season that never meet rain
about the southern wind that scattered the leaves, littering the yard
meanwhile I started raving about longing that lost its pier
and the past memories that I don’t know how long they haven’t been touched
Forth week of October
Heat met another heat
evaporate our conversations in the night that lost its coolness
just left the questions that keep in our heart
“This isn’t our usual conversations”
and we were silent for a long time
in the silence that I couldn’t understand anymore
for the original article, click : https://www.kompasiana.com/lunaseptalisa/5db61b7d097f366b5c7fc3e2/malam-yang-kehilangan-percakapan
*) Note : I posted some of my poems collection here as a special edition on achievement of 100 poems I posted on WordPress. I only choose 3 poems that used to be highlight and they’re my most favorite poem that I’ve ever written. The other reason why I only choose 3 because I’m tired to translate them into English haha XD (I wrote them in Indonesian, so, I just want to share some of them to foreign friends here). And if you’re Indonesian, you can check the original article on the link that I put above.
Here, there’s no color change in December
Trees still have their green leaves
Rose still has its red
River and lake aren’t frozen
Just the sky which looks more greyish
She’s tired of hearing the curse
which released by the uncontrolled emotions
in the house, in the office, in the streets
when the horn was beeped together
by the impatients driver who stuck at the traffic and blazing daylight
She was moved to the rhythm of the rain
after waiting in the longing room
during long dry season
If the sound of rain is a song, then she wants this song played in her head when her lips are unable to sing a song of sadness anymore
Yogyakarta, December 8th, 2019-08.37 p.m. -after the heavy rain-
The last time my heart was fluttered
I was too naive
I set up my expectations too high
Then I fell to the ground
Hurt. Broken. Damage.
*
Loneliness creeps into my heart
Haunted me in every sleep, every dreams
My brain doesn’t want to stop thinking
Forcing me to remember the memories I hate
How do I forget?
*
I let my heart freeze
Without knowing how to warm and melt it
Nobody can stay in such a cold place
Then, how can I keep the fire burning, if you keep watering on it?
Yogyakarta, December 7th, 2019-08.11 p.m.
Share My Thoughts and Emotions 