A Poem in the journal “Boston Accent Lit”

http://www.bostonaccentlit.com/gunawardana

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Lakes Rivers Streams

Here in Sri Lanka, We call our lakes, oceans, like Parakrama Samudraya, Built by human endeavor. The depths That are muddy, laden with freshwater weeds, Floating salvinia plants, And little fish, absconding from Fishermen’s hooks, while children bathe With a sense of freedom, as women Balance pots on their heads Taking water home. We let…

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Literary Forum (18th Aug 2018): All are welcomed.

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A Sri Lankan Obituary (Humor Poem)

Lalith died of complications of the lung Pneumonia they call it. Haemophilus pneumoniae And water in the lungs. He inhaled sooty smog And air conditioned with Legionella He ate koththu roti with Staphylococci and cockroach droppings, He kissed with Herpes and made love with a strain of Gonorrhea He ate MSG filled Chinese for all…

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We Are Who We Are

##   How the wedding day, had two shifts, We danced in both. In the dayshift To a Christina Perri number, That, the first and only dance, And the other, to the silence of The night. The little we knew, about The dance moves, the choreography, And still we did something That night. How when…

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Frenemy

We don’t do unto others What they do unto us. We thieve others’ destinies, Locking them inside, door-less cells. We are the avengers; the raw Smile of deception, a Judas’s kiss, and the Sedimentary shoulder that briefs But doesn’t sink. There lies only a merger, Between treachery and thievery, The craft of a frenemy, is…

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Selene

  ###### The hoot of an owl, the eerie night, Draped in darkness, the forlorn skies, Only a chalice, keeping the dreamer interested.  How through a crack in a pupil, We let in pint-size light, like how one crack is enough, To let in a lone firefly into a house. How the night is a…

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A Life Lesson in Kindness

## From Botany bay, to A business called Botanik, To the Botanical prints That fall off life size models, We hear the whispers of The dryads, those that occupy Trees, as guardian angels. We water the roots, and add fertilizer. We are gardeners of an orchard, The “shoot and root” beauties That sequester carbon, To…

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Writer’s Grief

I guess there are too many of us, Like prawns in the ocean. Every prawn has something to give, Not just a little curved body. The crust is the skin deep, But we are deeper, than a water well, The roped buckets we send, Down the lexicon well. We are all crustaceans selling our crusts,…

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