[Lyrical Prose] Listen to Our Homeland’s Mourn

photo by pixabay from pexels


This is our homeland. One of God’s masterpiece, home of world hundreds active volcanoes; long stretch of coastline from the west to the east; heaven of tropical rainforest, various species of exotic animals and plants.


Here, we stand to welcome the sun. Surrender ourselves to the morning for the sake of new hopes.
“We’re born and die here”.


Our homeland is a piece of paradise. Mountains become the upstream of rivers and tributaries that flows happiness and life. Seeds that we sown, grow thousand grains of goodness. Human use it to support their lives.


But, our homeland is exchanged with money. Capital owners and deceitful politicians suck the citizens blood.


Mining’s everywhere, dredge up bowels of the earth. Sea and river polluted by mercury and plastic. Fishes are die. Our lungs filled with pollution.


Trees roots are not strong enough to handle the water flows. Forests are gone, converting to oil palm plantation. The villas stand tall on top of the hill, swallowing ecological areas.


When the rain comes so often, everything’s float off and die, swept away by the flood. Left pain and sorrow that will be recorded in our memory.


Our motherland endures her pain, due to the ungrateful behaviour of her children. intelligent human beings that never use their brain. Feels like the one who can take a control while they’re just souls that full of greed.

Sept 20th, 2021


Poem | The Ballad of Dry Season

source : pixabay.com

Good morning, sunrise!
How’s your sleep last night?
I hope the darkness didn’t give you a nightmare
So, you can wake up with your smiley face

It’s August, but I still feel this cold breeze
It’s dry season now, but my wounds are still wet
Can the dry season sun dry these?
Can the dry season sun vaporize my nightmares about you?

Night disappeared
swallowed by day
light replaced darkness
but, darkness will conquer light
when the dusk comes

The sky closed its curtains
it’s the time for day to sleep
and night will be the ruler

The cold air of dry season hold my breathe
freeze my memories of the dark days
Please, send me Your warmth
to break the ice between me and my hopes

Yogyakarta, August 10th, 2019-08.43 a.m.

Dusk, River and Wind That Whispered A Bad News On Dry Leaves

photographed by sasint (pixabay.com)

Stood up on the edge of river made me realize that something was gone. Something that becomes a part of my childhood memories. An only tree that stood up on the riverbank, now starts to shed its leaves. Make it looks more pathetic. An orange tinge on the sky makes my heart more melancholy (or maybe pity).


I remembered about the river that looked like a crystal till we could see our reflection on it. I missed the calming river flow that hypnotized me with its lullaby. Now it doesn’t exist anymore. Almost no life or balance. Replaced with blackened river, urban slums and faces full of despair.


I also remembered when we could still swim or just sat on the riverbank to enjoy the dusk. One time, two times, we messed up with a group of swimming swans or flocks of birds that perched on the tree. Some little boys tried to fly their kites higher, some little girls sang a happiness song to lighten up the time. Now, it doesn’t exist anymore. Almost no pleasing voices. Replaced with vehicle or factory noises and wind that whispered a bad news on dry leaves.

Kota Wali, June 7th, 2019-05.28 a.m.