Skip to main content

I LOVE YOU (18)

MY BROTHER, this feeling I can no longer hide. Entering the second phase of puberty, I fell more and more in love with the three most rational things, namely the sea, the twilight, and you. 

I love the twilight that falls and settles in the arms of the pilgrims of love. They plucked a wandering orange color from the violet strands, and composed them into heavy verses, to lure back his runaway lover to Mol, tempted by the pink lipstick, which was sprayed with capitalistic machines and a nuclear reactor. The sky became as small as breadcrumbs, and had no meaning for the townspeople. In the City Center, which is punished by pollutants, it is true that there are never seen any stars as a marker of sky sovereignty

Of course I fell in love with the whole of you, who always cheerfully danced like the ronggeng horse from the shard, labeled as the base of the left. The way you inhale kretek and inhale lung poison reminds me of Yelisaveta Petrovna, who is loved by all Russian people for legalizing opium. During his reign, no one was beheaded. Your graceful and thrilling recitation of poetry reminds me of Leon Trotski's speech, which cried out loud: Let us fight capitalism in bars, with permanent revolution!

And finally, listen to my confession, this is my dear, I have always wanted to deepen my love for the sea. To be honest, as a concentric nation, I don't really understand the sea. The elementary school teacher, only talked about the glory of our ancestors as sailors, but he himself never saw the sea. Who designed this ironization? What a curriculum structure, very far from local wisdom and geographic context konteks

I want to be truly anchored to the sea, which always comes in the saltiest of colors, when no one has ever sprinkled it with salt--a color that emphasizes how full of experience the sea is, and the demeanor of all the signs of the changing seasons. The sea really understands how to feed millions of fish species, also never complains in dealing with childbirth season after season. The season which presents us with various flowers and fruits, also introduces the meaning of a disaster. Never hate the sea, it will return your anger in the form of reinforcements and calamities

I hope you also fall in love with the twilight and the sea. Twilight is beautiful, but only for a moment. He became a transient experiment. Love something for a while, before it really passes and reward you a lot of regrets. As for the sea, it always tests your beliefs and teaches courage. As experienced by an old man in white robes when being pushed by an enemy on the edge of the sea, he almost wavered when he leaned on his staff, because the spell-casted sky's face looked mute and unconvincing. At the last moment, he caught the word in a dense cloud, to hit the surface of the sea with his staff. He struck the sea, then stretched the way to the secret, which later taught the Punic and Sparta, the Archipelago and Europe, to dare to explore and split the sea. Also taught me to love the twilight, you, and the sea.

Bandung, 2021
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

LOOKING AT SENGGIGI - Work of Doddi Ahmad Fauji

Towards dusk, my steps arrived at Senggigi Beach the sun is only seven inches from the horizon As I thought, the sun will look as red as anger that I always keep deep, even though it's hard Anger, my father said, is not good to spill On Senggigi beach, in beautiful Lombok men and women, young and old be a pilgrim and a mere prayer all close to the sea let the body be licked by the tongue of the waves then stare blankly into the clouds then ducked down and cast a spell then raise a sliver of hope I ducked and wanted to embrace the waves but too soon gone, as fast as he came I finally said something like to a friend long time no see, let alone joking O good waves and always stunning it's me, Adam's great-grandson who is walking in Job's footsteps to be stranded here, like Hidir looking for students convey my prayers, to the throne nun in sane sense When I wake up, the sun is perfect sinking at the horizon line feels right, darkness covers my soul su Now is the time for me...
Post a Comment
Read more

NOTE FROM THE FAJR PAGES

The pieces of this poetry book were composed with the spirit of sharing fortune like the kawis. Or as taught by the teachers, carrying the intention of dulce et utile. At least meet the rules of literature, even if only a speck. Thankfully there is knowledge. About the depth, ah that's far-fetched. Most importantly, not distant from the reader, the community. Because it narrates about daily life and the city. related to the occupants. Although there are actually a collection of old poems, which have not or have not found readers, except for yourself. Which was written when I was still in school. At FIB Undip, Semarang. But as suddenly, decades later, after communicating with the poet Almukarom Doddi Ahmad Fauji (DAF), I was moved to really want to reassemble the collection of poems scattered everywhere. Also in memories, which are very difficult to trace back. Because the power of memory, it turns out, is not much. Memories, it sucks to pretend to say; "What is so-so doesn...
Post a Comment
Read more

AGAIN THE PROBLEM OF REASON

Sensory reasoning in poetry, for me, always gets the achievement so that the poetry that is written is easier to understand. Sensory reasoning means, testimony to this nature according to the five senses. Someone wrote something like, "I hear the roses are blooming in the morning." If you read it at a glance, there could be no problem. But does it really sound like the rose bloom? Phrases that are meaningful according to the senses of roses are written, "the skin blooms in the morning." Based on sensory reasoning, we can disassemble a poem, is it steady, or is it still violating sensory reasoning? Let's take a look at the poem written by Warsono, entitled FOUR FOUR EIGHT EIGHT. Open the door with the walls of the board I stepped on the ground floor I think this is hope So that life is not too hard "I opened the clapboard door," would it be called clapboard, or was it made of plank? Doors are doors, and walls are walls. The most appropriate word to desc...
Post a Comment
Read more