words On touching
When the wind touched
Did you hear the wind touch the cow bells
In the porch, to ring and sing his entrance?
Did you feel his touch when he sift-lifted your hair
Into your eyes, blinding you momentarily?
how he touched your skirt to balloon?
And led you into a merry can can?
He scattered the scent of the pigeon orchids to touch your
And tickled your taste buds too
With the ooze of ripening Durians.
quickened the senses
To hear, to see, to taste, to smell and feel his presence
And rippled the memory with many fickle wind-touched days.
- J.E. Rodrigo
Has touched my life.
Inside my shell,
I writhe in pain
Whether to become
A dead worm
Or- a shining pearl!
- Priscilla Pereira
Where were the kings of the mirror kingdom?
Reflected in kaleidoscopic splendour was touching to see
A parade of queens
Resplendent on white elephants carrying
Gifts of incense and myrrh.
- L.S.R. Gunawardena
I sat, my shoulders touching
The stranger’s next to me in the
questions rising in my mind
Near enough to touch, yet so far.
a man’s face is the mirror to his soul.
Is it sadness, happiness, weariness or
intrigued, unable to touch or interpret.
At the next stop we will part once and for all
And that face will be forgotten like many others,
they have all touched my heart
Even for a second or two
Sharing a moment together
And unknowingly taking away a part of me
Never to be returned.
- Lahiru Gangoda
by an angel
I stroke your face
My heart yearns
To see you smile.
Your tiny fingers
I long to see
A sparkle in your eyes.
I hold you close
I wish you could
See through my eyes.
you could see
The sunrise over the clouds,
With dew drops,
Birds soaring high above
And, at the end of the day
The beauty of a sunset.
The very depths
Of my heart
And my prayer for you
The mighty healing touch
Of the Lord
Will reach you soon.
- Ruwanthie Suraweera
Footprints, precise, parched,
Impressed upon baked red rock,
Touching them, conjured the past;
A vibrant, living, creature.
With bird-like feet,
Poised, regally on the river bank,
Three-toed, heels sinking into the muck,
Muscles rippling in biological rhythm.
Arousing primeval desires,
The whine of pigeon sized,
Filling the heat suffused tropical air,
The quaking ground,
The primitive palms,
They are now long gone.
plateau holds only souvenirs,
From a glorious, turbulent past.
- Shivanthi Balasuriya
Half crushed by the crowd that pressed
Onto the cobbled street
She crouched and waited patiently
Watching for her Master’s feet.
she saw His crimson robe
And from behind the throng, concealed,
She reached out, in faith, touching the hem
Of His garment... and was healed. - Rose Aserappa
When will our next patient arrive?
In one hour, I’m told.
Surpassing, but time enough
For a five minute’s precious rest
It’s cold in the theatre
And I blow into my icy palms.
Must be in deep slumber
Beneath a serene silvery moon...
Oh, how my heart yearns
For that warm, gentle touch
That fills my life
With so much love;
The solacing touch
That’s all mine
I wouldn’t mistake
For a thousand years.
comes a trolley
Creaking at the door
And time it is,
To get mechanical.
Well, we’re ready...
- Deepani Munidasa ‘
The old man was standing at the huge iron gate. The parcels
he was carrying were causing sweat-drops to form on his face.
His mouth was stained a deep red from betel. His feet were
guard looked at him from head to foot and opened the gate.
The old man went in and gazed at the surroundings. A young
man was coming towards him. The old man’s eyes brightened.
The young man looked around in panic. No one saw them.
content. The old man handed the parcels to him. Don’t
come again! His accusing eyes told the old man. - K.K.G.I.