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Plain Steamed Rice

Let my poetry usher you to my photographs

Month

March 2017

(the delayed) Day 89 in 2017

Speak. 

Let your heart be heard. 

Your words can dance

In the noisy sphere. 

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Day 88 in 2017

When the warmth of the indigenousness 

Greets you here,

The sun-kissed spices burst a masterpiece.

It brightens the universe, 

A magnificent magnet for the eyes. 

Day 87 in 2017

Twilight 

Brings out all the other lights 

And makes them bright, 

Conquering darkness they might. 

Day 86 in 2017

Running through the tunnel, 

You are exposed to the limited sphere.

Sometimes the end is invisible,

But it is doubtlessly leading you somewhere. 

Keep on running. 

Enjoy the solitude. 

Day 85 in 2017

My kind of Sunday

Is polychromatic in every way. 

Colourful kids booklets,

Drawing all the hidden dreams  

In a micro Sunday class. 

It’s the beginning of Spring. 

Buds of hope are coming forth. 

Even though you must wrap the day

With a double-spoon of Ventolin expectorant. 

As the English say, 

Keep calm and carry on. 

Day 84 in 2017

Mie Naripan (Naripan Noodle)

The local taste never disappoint you. 

It never gets dilapidated by time –

Classic and legendary.

You’ll get homesick for the taste

And the ambience. 

Just like coming home 

After a long drive. 

Day 83 in 2017

Morning beam.

Blinding. 

Everything turns into silhouette 

On the canvas of the blue sky 

It’s the beauty of not seeing the whole picture 

Day 82 in 2017

It’s peacefully raining outside. 

But you feel like hanging it up inside.  

Everything seems useless,

Not a single thing you do matters. 

You wish for this heavy downpour 

To just drift everything away in blur.  

Everything. 

Losing heart really makes you trivial. 

Being assured appears like a denial. 

All of a sudden everything is futile,

Thus you are nothing. 

Day 81 in 2017

Enjoying poetry is exclusive, 

Just like taking pleasure in your meal. 

The sole right to enjoy is given to your taste buds and nerve.

No one can partake in how you feel

When each word is swallowed down

Into the heart. 

Yes, into the heart. 

You can only share poetry by heart. 

Puisi tidak menyelamatkan apa pun, namun memberi 

Keberanian membuka jendela dan pintu pada pagi hari 

Menyeret kakiku menghadapi dunia yang meleleh

Di jalan-jalan kota yang tidak berhenti berasap. 

(M. Aan Mansyur: Puisi Tidak Menyelamatkan Apapun – Tidak Ada New York Hari Ini) 

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