Notre Dame

How prayers that stood on tongue tips, Carving plumes of noise, as She, the lady of Paris, resists the dragons,  Looming like the sun at sunset, and still, She will rise to the heavens, unlike Babel, To prove that no man can Vanquish Notre Dame, or decimate The memory of pilgrims scattered all over this…

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Calais

My First Poem on an International Poetry Journal can be found here. Poem Page – http://www.eastlit.com/eastlit-march-2016/eastlit-content-march-2016/southlit-supplement-march-2016/calais/ Journal Address – http://www.eastlit.com/eastlit-march-2016/ Calais by Dilantha Gunawardana The still eager faces Amidst flickering lantern-irises sapped of hope After all in this ‘Jungle’ near the North Sea Where there are no cakes or bread loaves Just memories of Marie Antoinette Unlike a…

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A Healing Kiss In Paris

Wind dances like a ballerina In candy floss twirls around the Moulin Rouge As the doomsday clock leaned towards midnight On the eve of Friday the 13th After all, a few hours past twilight it was a ghost city Love, the fabric that would Wrap two lips wrapped together Or two bodies unwrapping for the…

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Paris (In The Aftermath)

It was well after The emergence of darkness When the night combusted to detonated vests And bullet-thumping guns Phlogiston blazed as fiery flames In Lavoisier’s haunts and hunting grounds Although there was nothing scientific about the night Carnage they say are Neanderthal traditions Unknowing to the meek and lovable ‘Homo sapiens parisiensis’ And finally when…

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Paris Bombings (Through A Victim’s Eyes)

I was surrounded by clouds of expired smoke It felt like a slaughterhouse Where cattle are lined and given their last rites I crouched as far as my torso would fold And how flexi my lumbar vertebrae contorted For the very first time in my life I stood under a leggy table Wondering how soon…

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Paris

It was Friday night in Paris ‘t was not the same city as before After the brutal massacre of innocence The Moulin rouge – and her crisscross arms Were in a total blackout With no can-can dancers To tap their high heels on the stage floor A few kilometer away the Notre Dame stood Echoing…

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Spirit of Eiffel

She stood amidst the carnage A rust-free backbone That stood indomitable To conquer all detonated prejudices It was after all a labor Of an engineer’s dream In the city of love What no amount of coordinated metallurgy Could bring about the downfall After all the metal of Parisian hearts Is steel….

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