100 Word - 'Bud'
Thank you for all your contributions for the 100
word page on 'Bud'. The theme for February is "NESTING". Please send in
your contributions before February 17 to:
Madhubhashini Rathnayake,
C/o The Sunday Times,
No. 8, Hunupitiya Cross Rd.,
Colombo 2.
Pls. note that work sent to this page may be edited.
Blossoming
New Year
Wondrous rose
Miracle of life
Desire of blooms
You
Dried bud
Nature's bud
Empress Eugenie
Hope
Blossoming
This fragrant bud
Tightly closed
Aching to blossom
Within me.
I found true love,
Tied the nuptial knot -
The little darlings came.
But still -
The bud was there -
Tightly closed
Within me,
Aching to blossom.
One day -
My life shattered,
My baptism of fire!
Amidst my broken self,
I found you
O pearl of great price,
O Beauteous Creator.
Then -
My tightly closed bud
Opened into a panorama of colours
Of glorious, fragrant petals
At Thy feet.
Priscilla Pereira.
New Year
Fresh, new, a store of promising beauty awaits to unfold its dozen petals
one by one. The first has opened out already - day by day it reaches its
prime, soon it will wither and drop between the pages of history. Each
unfolding petal new challenges disclose. We await them, unable to change
what the future has in store within the gentle petals of promised hope
and beauty.
Suchintha.
Wondrous rose
The tiny cutting took root on our soil and soon grew; sending out shoots
and yet more shoots. We waited anxiously for it to bloom. Then came the
first bud, pure white-like driven snow. But when the bud started to unfurl,
there was a hint of pink in it. As morn passed from morn, the miraculous
blossom passed from being a pale rose to the crimson of the deepest hue.
Blood red. A mother's great love turns her red blood to white milk in order
to nourish her offspring. This rose bush was doing it in reverse!
Prianthi Wickramasuriya.
Miracle of life
I planted a slip
In a sheltered spot
Away from predators
And ravaging winds.
From burning sun
And beating rain
Lest it be scorched
Dislodged without roots.
I watered it daily
With hand-sprinkled drops
To moisten the soil
And nourish the sap.
Then waited and waited
Each day to behold
The stirrings of life
Begin to unfold.
Till one day at last
The wonder appeared
A tiny green leaf-bud
Pushing through a node!
Nirmala Louis.
Desire of blooms
The chrysanthemums,
Waited anxiously,
For the bees who flew in daily:
The daffodils,
Marked time eagerly,
To revel in the butterflies' embrace:
The rhododendrons,
And the rose bushes,
Dreamt of their past flings,
with drones;
Hiding among the grass and blossoms,
A wild bud was trying to raise
its crown;
Fantasizing the day ahead,
Of humming bees and their loving brush,
Determined to have its way,
Averted for years by the gardener's touch;
Its vision was reaching reality,
Until,
A roaming grasshopper,
Ignorant of the flower's desire,
Had a nip of the bud!
Inoka Makalanda.
You
Were the sun shine
That made
the bud of my heart bloom
Now, you are the
burning sun which
withers that blossom.
Jayamalee Jayaweera.
Dried bud
Between the pages
I was turning
Found a little dried bud -
Reminded me of a day
As students
We girls, went to Sinharaja
Scampering the muddy lanes,
Shouting at the top of our voices
Scaring the birds and animals alike
And applying balm
To fright away leeches,
Drunken with the spirits of youth
Too little did I think
When plucking this
Beside a placard which says,
"Take only photographs
Leave only footsteps''.
That memories of those sunny days
Will be almost forgotten and dried
Like this bud
I hold between my fingers
Chamindi Ekanayake.
Nature's bud
I got up one morning
And looked out of the window.
What was once the rose bud
Had blossomed into a flower
Beautiful, fragrant and colourful.
I glanced at the bed
And there she was
Beaming with pride
Caressing her belly
Carrying our bud
Nine months old!
Nimal Jayasinghe.
Empress Eugenie
After years of exile, she found herself in France, alone
She walked through the gates at Tuilleries, walked where she once called
'home'.
She spied then the violets - that she had planted there!
"Madam, touch not those flowers, pluck not a bud, take care".
Cried the sentry, to whom she answered, "I was Empress once, you know.
I planted those very flowers - knew each leaf, long ago."
"We have no Empress, Madam, - We're a Republic now, you see".
So the flower, the bud, she left behind and with it the life that used
to be.
Janine.
Hope
The very first time
I held you,
Like a tiny rose bud
My son,
I knew,
I'd finally found
Hope.
Priyangika L. Gamage. |
