Silver tipped wings roar to a stop

on tarred tarmac melting in the noon-day heat

I step out enveloped by the warm breeze

comfortably stirring buried memories

Of oven rose petal bracelets tied to wrists

sipping Kahva, hot, spicy, refreshing

laughing again to nothing

As glass bangles are chosen

Giving coins generously to outstretched palms

Of maimed bodies with Angelic faces

As beautiful as our love

why do I keep coming back to open old wounds

To a heart once pierced

I wonder?

~Nafisa Aug  22, 2026

In my little corner

There is a small door in the corner of my chest,

heavy with dust and decades of moving forward.

I locked it behind me when the world got loud,

thinking I was leaving behind the sadness,

not realizing I was actually leaving behind a good part of me.

Inside, the air is preserved in amber.

A younger version of me sits on the floor,

knees pulled tight, watching the keyhole,

waiting for the sound of familiar footsteps.

He counts the years in ticking clocks and quiet shadows,

wondering what kind of adult promises were made

that kept me from ever returning to pick him up.

I carry the key in my pocket every day,

warm against my hip,

yet I keep walking past the threshold, 

afraid to step inside,

afraid to face the child who still wonders

why I left him behind in the dark.

-fazli Aug 21 2026

Member List 2026

Dr Vimala

Asger

Saku

Amar

Peter

Elmo L

Satchi

Angela

Fazli

Dr Carmel

Angie S

Nafisa

Asger

Pierangeli

Pabodhani

Nilanthi

Dasun

Jayanthi

Dilip

Madonna

Chantelle

Frances

Ranudi

Jezima

Zainab

Nuha

Amana

Farzana

Kerima

Haala

Himangi

Keerthi

Saroja

Podpourri

 

Humming in rows beneath fluorescence,

no lullabies, just circuits sighing,

warm liquid cradling,

soft as amnesia.

Where, futures float,

tiny fists unfurling like temple flowers,

umbilical cords replaced by usb cables,

feeding data and milk, through pipettes, in equal measure.

No mummy’s breath,

no whispered name carried through pain,

only sterile hands, dressed  in immaculate white, adjusting

the temperature of tomorrow.

They say it’s progress,

no hunger, no harm,

no heartbreak in delivery,

just the future, on demand.

Until the perfect storm 

rips out the oxygen from their lungs.

-fs Oct 13 2025-

[credit to Carmel Miranda for her amazing story on which these lines are penned]

Simply, to have lived

 

Ah, what a tender mirror your lines hold,

a life charted not by maps but by the rhythm of becoming.

Each decade a stanza,

each line a breath of memory,

a song of innocence folding into wisdom.

I hear the laughter in the early steps,

sticky fingers, unsteady but unstoppable.

Then the pulse of youth,

that great rehearsal for reality,

how we fumble through love, ambition, and loss,

believing every turn is forever.

The middle years rush in like city traffic,

horns, deadlines, grocery lists,

children asking, “Why?” and time whispering, “Now.”

And yet, even in the noise,

we plant gardens, some in wet soil,

some in warm hearts that outlive us.

By the time the pace softens,

we see it all differently;

how the striving was only practice

for the art of letting go.

So yes,

to the seniors, and to the child still inside all of us,

to the decades we have built, and the ones that may still remain,

let’s raise a glass of EGB

to the simple, cosmic wonder

of having lived at all.

 

Fazli Sameer

Oct 12 2025

The Decades of Our Lives

Beginnings: sweet and cute and toddling,

Collecting goodwill, pride and spoiling.

Giving joy with everything

That’s said or done, though unwitting.

Seconds: attitudes and fears,

Triumphs, tragedies and cheers.

Stretching, hoping, dreams and tears

While setting up for later years.

Thirds: school’s out, job’s in, and, oh!

Is this the rest of life? Oh! Oh!

Morning: jams and evening: slow,

And weekends always on the go!

Fourths: career, perhaps a spouse,

And children, too, and a car and a house.

Sports matches, parties and crowds

Dull moments? Are you serious?!!!!!!

Fifths: university looms large,

And bills and costs: what a barrage!

Ailments enter, take center stage,

And we start to bemoan our age!

Sixths: as life slows down, we find

A deeper, greater heart and mind

Grew out of all we’ve left behind

So, we were wiser all this time . . .

So, to our elders wherever,

They be and also however,

Appreciation failing never,

For structuring our lives’ endeavour!

 

Sandra Fernando

12^th Oct. 2025, Kalubowila, Dehiwela

March 2025 Meeting @ The Wadiya