NAGARA

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...

A poem, if it is to be written in symbolic words, or with diction which symbolizes something, for example a symbol of nature, should be written consistently, from beginning to end. We do this, in order to make it easier for readers to understand the poetry we write. Especially for teachers, one of the audience for the poetry is students, then it is always an instinct to educate, it is born from the heart. If you want to write wild and free poetry, it means that the atmosphere of the socialization of the poetry must be in the realm of pure artists. But the teacher will always be on two legs. One leg, still in the education area, the other leg, may indeed reach the artistic area. About this consistency, sometimes I like to be surprised by the little things that make me ponder, whether this diction is needed to be changed, so that it is more in tune, or leave it at that, but maybe the reader can also understand and enjoy it. There is the phrase "sprig of the moon" in Lilis Gusti...

The third time I felt guilty, as if hastening someone's death, until yesterday I was forced to hide. A person is suspected of having lung disease, said the midwife, because in the village there were no doctors, only midwives. But someone's nature to buy. He seemed reluctant to seek treatment, and finally his body was thin, his flesh seemed to run out, the skin on his stomach, and his bones were cut right. His body, if he had removed the skin, would look like a cone. Since he was the father of the SS staff, I tried hard to cheer him up, and asked his wife, hither and thither questions. Fife days ago, he was brought back to the midwife, and the midwife was reluctant to impregnate him, then he was taken to the Harima hospital, but there he refused, because he said, dr. lungs absent from work. The patient was referred to Cibabat Hospital. But Cibabat refused, because there was no room, all full. Finally brought home. That Saturday night I visited and asked if the sick liked to smok...

Thieves and thieves silence along with my words Hi my inner children speak without tilting your head do not walk occasionally while digging his own grave promise me and hold my fingers  see I am here in an abandoned black city the burials sun corpse friends Only your eyes that still save the river when the mountains summarizes the sleep of the moon someone I call his name is the one who keeps the knife in the eyes stabbed my rhymes until I found delayed consciousness God, I said like to friends presumably You are according to my preconceptions generous who is never poor pin it on my chest as an emblem of appreciation I promise, then I grip your fingers

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 lega...