Mirror Magazine
26th August 2001
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100 Words



I saw him. 
He broke into two 
Inside -
When his beloved died. 
Unspoken, unsung sorrows, 
Etched as deep furrows -
Within his soul. 
Long weary years, 
Crawling -
Without life's lost diamond. 
He - a broken tree 
For long years. 
But then -
Roots of the Eternal Force 
From deep within 
Recuperating -
Rejuvenating -
And -
Oh, at last -
The tender leaves 
At the broken crown 
Of the broken tree! 

Priscilla Pereira 

Breaking Away 

Once mighty green leaves, 
Now swaying here and there 
They are changing colours 
From green- 
-to red to indigo, 
and then to yellow, finally. 
Ready to fall down, 
To float away freely, 
Over the blue sky 
-far away 
From the tree... 

I used to be 
Bright and breezy-
Like a green leaf, 
Always sticking to the tree. 
Now I feel-
That I am; 
Changing, too 
Ready to fall, 
Breaking free 
To float freely 
....away from the tree...

Lawanya Wijesekara

Breaking the Pot 

Don't cry 
Because you broke the pot: 
It had long been cracked. 
But gather the shards
Dig a deep hole 
And bury them. 

And the rain will smoothen 
The disturbed earth, 
The sun will bake, and wind trace 
New landmarks, 
Till finally you won't remember 
Even the place...... 

Anne Ranasinghe 


She was about eighteen and her folder was marked "Terrorism inclination +++". I was supposed to squeeze important information from her. I am the most successful 'breaking officer' here. 

"What did you say to him?" I asked her picturing the previous officer interrogating her. 

"He asked me if I was stopped on the road and questioned by Army personnel, what I would do?" Being Tamil and living in Vavuniya, this must be a common experience. 

"And you said..." 

"I would want to shoot them". 

I scratched the previous remark and wrote: Extremely strong character. 

Recommend release after initial investigations. 

Mahesh Rajasuriya 

Breaking Through 

It is night 
Their heads droop 
Faces downcast, 
Dismal, hopeless. 
The wait seems long 
but unfailingly, 
as dawn breaks, 
They look at heaven 
Faces glowing, 
In adoration. 
Swaying in the gentle breeze 
In a dance of worship. 
As new life surges. 

These glorious sunflowers, 
God's messengers,
Remind me that 
Breaking of day 
Follows a grim night 

Priyeni McLeod 


Flood waters 
Breaking their boundaries; 
Breaking out in a conflagration; 
The common multitude of small folk 
Suppressed for long 
Breaking out of the limits of their class; 
They are all merciless - 
Gathering momentum in their course, 
Leaving destruction in their wake; 
Complete and irrevocable. 

Mrs. Thilaha Yoganathan 


At the breaking of dawn 
She tiptoes into the kitchen 
Knocks against a table - Crash! 
Breaking the silence with the 
Breaking of China.
An irate husband, yells 
Breaking her heart again 
Breaking a coconut 
She cooks a meal 
She wakes the children 
Breaking their sleep. 

At the school a parent is
Breaking the news 
Of a bomb attack. 
She walks to the seashore 
and watches the waves 
breaking on the shore. 
She walks home sadly
And ponders on her husband 
Breaking his vows. 

But there is hope
On Sunday, in Church
There will be
The breaking of bread.

Olga Perera


One Year - Three hundred and sixty five days 
One day - twenty four hours 
One hour- sixty minutes 

And so we break it up. My Geography book says classifications make things easier to comprehend. So I try to break it up and analyse it (like Grigg's Farming Types) to comprehend.

You are a part of this country and I am a part of this country. Does that mean we need to own separate pieces of it? The engineers will fix the planes but who is going to fix our minds?

Sandamali P. Wijeratne 

Pajama Game 

Men and women play nocturnal games. 

These activities take many forms - some are for recreation, some for procreation. 

I too play a night-game - in my pajamas -

The "BREAKING NEWS" game. Being a night-bird, my clock works at a tangent with the insane world. I start my day at night, watching TV from midnight till dawn. 

There's plenty keeping me a absorbed - C.N.N., Sky News or B.B.C. I pine for the breaking of global news with instant reports (sometimes accompanied with live pictures) from all corners of the globe. 

Come join me, I drink coffee. 

Christy G. Wijeratne

Threads of Life 

The ventilator sighed. 
The teddy bear atop the monitor 
looked on sadly 
at the tiny finger nails 
once pink, 
now turned blue. 

I knew he was slowly 
breaking away,
like a melting iceberg,
drifting into some
mysterious dark sea.

The nurses cried.
I knew I had to 
keep a straight face
and a straight mind.

Attachment brings pain,
I say to myself.

Deepani Munidasa

Oh, my beautiful bones

By Norm(an) De Plume 
Take an artist from the Renaissance period, anyone. Shall we say Rembrandt for example? Try to recall the women that they painted - curvaceously generous hips, a few love-handles here and there...you get the picture. Now think of those masterpieces with modern-day beauties. Straight hair, a few ribs replacing the love handles, the hipbone jutting out...not quite the same masterpiece is it? 

To say that it would most likely resemble an x-ray version of the original paintings might not be too much of an exaggeration. "It doesn't matter if you're black or white" screams - sings Mr. Jackson. And in a perfect world, weight-scale readings and height wouldn't matter either. So if you're suffering from the delusion that it IS a perfect world out there, may I suggest reading the Clothesline now and then - the way you look obviously does matter. 

What is the definition of beauty anyway? My friend, who reads the marriage proposals column as a source of humour, tells me that the most common word found in it is 'roomath'. Admittedly, this kind of 'advertisement' usually has an extra dose of optimism. Leaving that aside, it still remains that there are people who think that they are good-looking but that does not mean that there are Catherine Zeta-Jones and Keanu Reeves look-alikes walking all over the place. 

The hackneyed 'beauty is in the eyes of the beholder' does have more than a grain of truth. Come on, we had no less than 'Tom Cruise' himself writing into the Clothesline and declaring his affinity for chubby women. He appears to be an exception. 

The point that I'm trying to make is not only that what we think of as pretty is also standardized by society itself. For instance nowadays the epitome of beauty (for girls) is fair, slim and straight hair. For us guys the 'look' has moved from the buffed Arnold I-can't-spell-his-last-name and Sly Stallone look some years ago to the wimpier Keanu Reeves (with apologies to his ardent fans) look. 

It's rather ironic that even though a person's features aren't that great, a person fitting the above description would still be considered pretty/handsome, so mired are we in standards. Look at TV commercials and the 'alien invasion' of Indian models for example. The advertisement itself may be prone to insult the viewer, but the models ARE tall, slim, fair etc. which seems to be the prime concern for some. Plus they also appear in ads that tell us how a girl will be immediately swept off her feet by her suitor because she uses a certain fairness cream, or how she can have her pick of doctor, engineer etc. The legend, or should I say, the myth, continues. But as the guys' situation tells us that this standard will change from time to time. Plus, it also varies with cultures. Look at an old Tamil movie (switch on the TV during the day and chances are that one of them will be on) and the hero is always a rather plump guy with a moustache. Who knows? It might just catch on here as well. But that might be a bit too much to hope for... 

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