Limericks

 Dedicated to all the creative writers in our Group

There once was a gal called Neela,

Who just sipped a dram of Tequila.

When Amar came home

He had to douse her in foam.

Cos the poor old gal was Beela.

[Fazli]

 

Neela, a woman of steel,

To Amar she offered a deal.

The poor boy he struggled

He puffed and he snuggled.

But the gal was slippery as an eel.

[Fazli]

 

A cute little dame named Nafisa,

Stands like the tower of Pisa.

Not so tall I am told

Yet, strikingly bold.

Stay close or you’re gonna miss her.

[Fazli]

 

Kirthi, she’s always noteworthy,

A gal so down-to-earthy.

Do give her a bell,

She’ll ring like hell.

That’s why she’s always Preethee.

[Fazli]

 

Peter the story teller,

He’s a jolly good feller.

The ghosts in his head,

Would rather be dead.

Or hide away in a cellar.

[Fazli]

Naughty but nice is dear Fazli

Loves his salads with Parsley

Keeps the Wadiya group all bubbly

A ladies man very likely

Is still going strong just believe me

[Neela]

There was  a guy called Fazli

Even though boney was cuddly

He rambled and joked

We thought it was a hoax

But flirted with sporadic alerts

[Pierangeli]

 

There was a lovely girl called Pierangalie

She’s just awesome in every way

She’s the life blood of the Wadiya group

Keeping us all together

And it’s with her that I love to see the sea and the moon and the stars and even the hills

Stay happy girl till we meet again

[Medha]

There was a bunch of writers

Who at the Waadiya were bedazzled

By sand sea and iced ginger beer

Penning racy limericks

They spent well wasted minutes

[Nafisa]

 

You are asking for my exact  size

Would you mind paying any price

Then hop into Midnight Divas

Near your old school

There you will find

Free sizes mostly see thru!

[Kirthi]

 

Price is no big issue,

Nor is size for sure.

Midnight Divas sounds hot,

Better than throwing the pot.

Will Pavi lend us her tissue?

(Fazli]

PURPLE

I'm seeing purple again

It reminds me

Of bruises on my knee 

Falling off the bicycle

My cousin's eyelid 

After a bully punched him in the eye

Gentian violet stains

On my classmate's arms

Covering skin rashes

Why purple again?

This colour of hurt and violence.

Himangi - Wed Aug 5, 2020

*****

You must 

It's your right

Easy  said.

Longer lines 

With six feet distancing

 Under cloudless  skies

Sun beating down 

She marks her cross

For  the chosen  one

Nafisa - Wed Aug 5, 2020

*****

The colour of flowers

In the garden

Blooming hopeful

Each morning

Wilting by noon

Gathering frustration

By sunset

A colour made by mingling

Hope with helplessness

Purple, like the colour on my finger

This election night

Himangi - Wed Aug 5, 2020

*****

She held my little finger

And painted it in a mixture

Of violet and indigo

Gave me that " Look"

You have only one vote!

I mused

Do any of these fellows 

Deserve my precious vote

But then again

Crossed three squares

Dropped it in the box

And washed my hands thoroughly 

Saying, damn with  dirty politics

Kirthi - Wed Aug 5, 2020

*****

Purple dye

On my finger nail

To laugh or cry

Or simply wail

Will tomorrow bring

Sunshine, not rain

Or are we all in

For an era of pain?

Fazli - Wed Aug 5, 2020

*****

South Asian English Usage

What is your good name?

Timepass

Do the needful

Passing out of College

Click a photo

Nice click

Eve-teasing.

Only. Used at the end of the sentence for emphasis

I will take your leave

Felicitate

Prepone

Give an exam

What all

Deplane

Prepone

I couldn't agree more

Met with an accident

Going for a bath

Do it off, give off, come off

Give "one-one" to all

My house is at the "back of" the temple

My father walks "fast-fast"

She is my "cousin sister"

You yourself

I saw a dream

Diabetes popularly referred to as 'Sugar'

Feeling attacked

Don't have time for this timepass

We are like this only

I take your leave

Mention not

I came here by walk

By-hearted

You need to understand where I'm coming from

Tear it off

Out of Station

I was going to say this only

We are shifting (moving house)

Updation

You do one thing

Coming for coffee?

You will come no?

Reply you back

Come again

Thanks in anticipation

Slowly-slowly

One thing more (before completing an order)

Believe you me

We are going separately

I would like to intimate you

I am having 5 years of marketing experience

he police is giving you a clean chit

Anyways

Ring Cut (missed call)

What is your native place?

We are like that only

He is going to come by car at five

My bad

It is paining

Don’t take tension

Going to go

Nothing Permanent

Nothing Permanent

With the venue change, everything seems anew

Only by thoughts do old memories linger on

People wearing masks, yet another change

Members stuck at home frighten to come on.

Stubborn minds hesitantly accept

That mother nature needs a rapid change.

A lot has changed within weeks or months.

There is one thing to remember, nothing stays permanent.

Fingers are pointed at nature.

Some blame God

To the stubborn it is hard to accept.

That this curse we were always in want.

Nothing intentionally or wilfully done.

With many valuable souls ruthlessly gone.

Misfortunes and mistakes add on to the toll

When would the end be, no one knows.

Kiara Arendtsz

30-05-20

The True Supporters

The True Supporters

Sometimes the ears does not give a good appearance to the face.Can you imagine a face without ears?See how ladies wear earrings to make them more attractive and beautiful.

I can still remember the days when I was in grade five,how my teachers twisted my ears for not doing my homework.At times I thought my ears would come out.

Somedays I cursed my ears for being prominent on my face.I learnt later the real purpose of the ear and how it helps to take the sound into the head.I have heard many saying,"I will give you a shot on your ears".

How come only the ears could be seen by some people These days it is the talk about face masks.To avoid Covid 19 on the deadly virus Corona and it is compulsory to wear a face mask.

Did you ever forget how a face mask is kept stucked on to a face.If it is not for the ear flaps it would have been a strip of sticking plaster to keep the mask stuck on to the face.We should respect every single part of our body.

Hence see that you do not ring others ears or allow someone to deliver you a cracking shot on your ears.So let's protect our ears for Heaven's sake.We don't know what would follow next.Maybe Sharona!

Madonna Arendtsz

30-05-20

Asiri Hotel

Asiri Hotel

Asiri Hotel is situated 5 kilometres on the Ja-Ela Bopitiya road.Although this was not a Star Class Hotel,it was a beautiful place to be.The Portuguese Canal connected to the Dandugam Oya and then to the Negombo Lagoon.A trip by boat takes you definitely to another world indeed.This is a different experience altogether.Thousands of different species of 

birds, schools of fish, flowers, crocodiles, illicit liquor distillers.What not but everything is friendly.

Tourist enjoys every single minute of the journey.Other income to this hotel was from wedding ceremonies and letting rooms.This hotel had 25 comfortable rooms.It's surroundings were scenic and with a mini zoo adding more colour.

The Properitor of this place was ex minister Felix Perera's,brother Tennison Perera.I was appointed as Hotel Manager in the year 1998.

With all the comfort I got as a manager I never liked working at Asiri.I was always looking for an opportunity to go from there.My room was situated on the first floor of the hotel.A nice room which was also very comfortable and I enjoyed every single moment spent in the room.Whenever I was in the room I used to write something or sleep.

Normal and Wedding couples used to patronise this hotel.The Properitor was very friendly and used to drag me every now and then for a conversation.He sometimes boasts about how he managed to use his  brother's influence to get this land,where Asiri Hotel is On.Another time he told me about his Garment Manufacturing Factory in Ja-ela.

His piggery farm and how he got a lot of protest from the people around and finally with the manure of the Piggery.He invented gas and distributed it to about 25 houses and shut all the neighbours mouths.

Days and months passed by and one evening he came up with another astonishing story.The story that really made me decide to leave this hotel.

He came out with a story which really made me wonder and scared.There was a Lady who visited the hotel with many different men.She was from Kurunegala in a house situated somewhere behind the Welegedara Cricket Stadium.Her husband had left her 3 years ago and she had to up keep her family and was compelled to do prostitution.

Her husband also had a habit of visiting prostitute dens and picking up women of his choice.One day while visiting such a den discovered  his own wife in one of these dens.For a while he was angry and demanded that his wife to come with him immediately.She refused and he went to the police and wanted his legal wife back.The police intervened and she was persuaded to go back to her husband.

He brought her to Asiri Hotel and seemed to be very happy enjoying the beauty of the mini zoo and its birds and animals.In the meantime both of them made up for the lost times.He had also visited the bar and had about 3/4 bottle of arrack on three intervals.They had their dinner and everyone in the hotel went to sleep.

The two hotel workers and security guard was sleeping under a fan in the hall adjoining the stairway.

They were in Dreamland when suddenly they got up to the sound of a jump.This man wanting to avoid the staff made a jump from 1st Level of the stairs to the ground floor.When they saw the man,he came politely to them and told them about a sudden need which he had arisen and he had to go and to look after his wife and give her some breakfast in the morning.

Ample money has been left behind with her and she would settle all the bills.He said bye and started walking towards Ja-Ela. However these three did not buy his story.The room boy quickly ran up and tapped the door but there was no hum.

Then he had to open the door with the spare key.However all this happened within a period of 20 minutes.He then discovered the dead body of that woman lying on a side of the bed.He ran down and told the other guys to call boss and took a large knife from the kitchen and set off on a bike towards Ja-Ela.The Culprit was walking hurriedly and the room boy approached and caught him.

Threatening to kill the man,he managed to get him on the front of the bike and rode it back to the hotel.The three guys caught him and tied him on to a tree.The boss arrived and inspected the room and the body and informed the police.The police and ambulance arrived.The body was taken to the Ja-Ela hospital.

Before the police took the man,the boss of the hotel asked him about what happened and he related the story which I told you before.And what made him kill his wife was that he had found a telephone index containing hundreds of men,who used to have connections with her.

Seeing this index,an argument started and he was anyway after liquor, choked his wife by pressing his leg to her throat and supported by the head board of the bed from the back.She died and you know the rest of the story.

The boss of the hotel had to shoulder the entire funeral expense.He was also good enough to give an almsgiving.She had three children,so the boss helped them when required.The case was heard and he was given a sentence of 3years imprisonment.

After relating the story and a sigh,the boss told me that I am occupying the same room where this murder took place.

A chill ran down my spine that very moment.I quickly moved to a smaller and a less comfortable room.I occupied this room,until I left the hotel two months later.

Peter Arendtsz

30/05/2020

The Legacy

29/05/2020

The Gems sat cold in his hand Rubies, Sapphires and a very large one with a star in it. He mixed Goldstone and Cats eye just to make it more interesting and they were beautiful Beryls too.

Moments went by as he sat quietly in deep thought, Then he finished writing on the creamy paper folded it carefully and place the red seal so it would be unbroken till the person meant to find it would break that seal.

Reginald Lucas came out with the British Railways to a British outpost called Hambantota. He was a surveyor and was sent to survey other lands also for the then British Government in Ceylon.

When he surveyed lands and look at great distances through his scope……… his mind sometimes went beyond the physical horizon. He was a dreamer and a romancer. He would look into the future and imagine what these lands would be hundred years later.

He had just bought the beautiful hillock in the Town that had views of the salt lagoons and large trees that shivered with cool breeze during the very dry heat.

He placed the documents and stones in an Ebony Box and locked the lid with a brass padlock. He walked out of the front office room and faced the house. If you stood to the front of the house and turned your face to the right you saw a large light grey barked tree eight foot tall. It was especially beautiful when it shed it’s creamy leaves and flowers like a voluminous lace skirt strewn to the ground.

He took his shovel and dug a deep Hole, place the ebony box in the soil and covered it again with the dug soil smiling in a very succinct way.

This was for his Ancestors the long line to come from him that would be the Guardians of the Lands and the Keeper of memories. A treasure or reward for that person. Madeline his wife had said it would be a woman who would come 5 generations later. She had the gift of sight and her sparkling blue eyes had a faraway look when she told him. She was probably right. 

By Pierangeli Andrado   

Covid-19

Covid 19
I'm sinister,
I'm vile,
I crept into the world,
Like a thief in the night,
No respect for persons,
I go to and fro,
injecting my venom,
Paralyzing the soul.

I'm a faceless enemy,
To all mankind,
Invisible I've come,
Taking, humans by surprise

Wear your masks,
Cleanse your hands,
Keep a distance,
Don't take any chance.

I have the power to kill,
None can stop. None will
They call me Covid 19
A grand name, for a virus like me

But wait, I feel arrows pricking me,
Wonder what it could be?
I feel my power diminishing,
Have they already found a vaccine?

Then I look around and see,
Humans praying fervently,
I cannot stand prayer,
I'm dying, I'm dying,
They've conquered me, fair and square

Neela Gunatileka / May 2020

Morning

Morning

Morning is woken

Blackbirds fly

Sheets a rumpled

Blue skies meet the eye

Sunshine seeps through

Sparrow sings a song

Squirrels walk the line

Wind plays along

Leaves are a rustling

Cobwebs in my shoes

Geckos in the wardrobe

A room filled with news

Drawers a weeping

Clothes in deep slumber

Infections rising

Counting the number

Deliveries keep coming

Groceries to plunder

Masked men hovering

Housewives in wonder

Hope for the morrow

On land and on sea

Life’s filled with sorrow

Please set me free

Fazli Sameer / Wed Apr29, 2020

UPLIFTING EXCHANGE

UPLIFTING EXCHANGE

SENSES - by Kerima Musafer

God's blessed me with eyes

so I could clearly see

My nose..that I should not poke

Into affairs of others but just

mind my own business

A tongue...that will all ills revoke

Ears..to be a good listener

Deaf to other's faults

He's blessed me with hands

 to lift up and praise him

For my brain that issues commands

For the prudent use of my senses

My, Eyes, Ears, Mouth, Nose and Hands

***

NO MATTER THE STORM WHEN YOU ARE WITH GOD THERE IS ALWAYS A SILVER LINING – Felicia Mohamed

***

Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants. - Honeida Pakeer

***

"Paradise is there, behind that door, in the next room, but I have lost the key, perhaps only mislaid it"

- from Sand and Foam by Khalil Gibran.

M Wazir Sourjah

***

Exchanging words:

"Think twice before you utter
Words that cause another pain,
Words once uttered really matter
As they cannot be taken back again."
Eileen Dane

***

Corona

CORONA
Hanging from a tree,
or a lab in the East,
she woke up
to show her dark face.
Across the great wall
she waltzed across,
deep into Europe
she did grace.
Over the big pond
she has flown over,
to the land
of the free and the brave.
Panic she has spread,
with chaos wrought,
sowing distress,
into mass graves.

Fazli / Mar 26, 2020

Feb Meeting

English Writers Group @The Wadiya

The monthly meeting was held on Feb 29, 2020 at 930am @The Wadiya

The following attended:-

Amar

Chandrika

Elmo Leonard

Fazli

Himangi

Jayanthi (host)

Kiara

Lakshmi

Madonna

Melinda

Nafisa

Neela

Nilanthi

Hansa (Nilanthi’s son, 11)

Pierangeli

Peter

Sakuntala (host)

Zainab Hussain (Asghars niece)

The meeting kicked off with several admin issues being addressed as follows:-

1.       No subscriptions to be levied starting 2020

2.       Contact Faith to determine the financial status (Fazli)

3.       Check with Lilamani re subscriptions collected for 2018/19 (Fazli)

4.       Prepare meeting schedule with attendance/hosting for the files (Fazli)

5.       Guests to pay for soft drinks at the meetings

6.       Impose a six (6) minimum attendance rule per year to keep members active and involved

7.       Invite members to submit more writings to be read and archived

8.       Plan a suitable literary reading event in collaboration with other literary organizations

9.       Open a joint bank account in personal names of two members to manage funds (Fazli/Nafisa)

10.   Revive the WAVES publication by requesting members to write and send articles for publication

Readings:

1.       Himangi: Two poems titled “Down Fielder Road” and “Song in the Wind”. The former, a very emotional description of returning to a place one loved before and the latter a poignant capture of the tragic Easter Sunday bombing

2.       Fazli: A reminiscence of the Royal-Thomian cricket match since childhood emphasizing the antics of the mischief made by the boys since the 60s in “Merry March Madness”

3.       Zainab: “The Unknown Presence” capturing the essence of the Universe and its many galaxies with a reminder that there may be alien beings on earth too with reference to Daemons, Rabisu and Jinns.

4.       Neela:  A poem titled “My Flute and I” relating the tale of a lost soul enjoying his flute in his loneliness

5.       Amar: An interesting account in verse of the tragedy of the recent war

6.       Elmo: A nine page, hand written, essay on politics and romance during the post idependence era

7.       Madonna: “Bees & Honey, Mosquitos & Blood”, an interesting essay on the honey bee and themosquito and what they offer us in life

8.       Kiara: Gave us a few verses titled “Remembering You” about a lost love and its ensuing sadness

9.       Melinda:  “Dr Ogaviz”, the tale of a cardio surgeon who perishes after suffering a heart attack when told about a fortune he was being offered for saving another life

10.   Peter:  Three (3) hilarious escapades of Peter in the bus

11.   Hansa: A little 11 year old boys (Nilanthi’s son) account of the “Tsunami” expressed with great emotion and simplicity

12.   Nilanthi:  Read out a story she had submitted to the 70 stories of Independence, titled “Radio”, that illuminated the agony of war

13.    Asghar: An account of death written, fiftenn years ago, in verse titled, “Like an Approaching Shadow”

14.   Lakshmi: “Catching the Podi Menike” a poem about the train

15.   Jayanthi: Shared a poem titled “I, Black” written by an African child and which wasnominated by the UN as the best poem for 2006

16.   Pierangeli: Read out a poem written by her nephew, Shane Rence (23), who is autistic. The verses titled, “Lovely girls on my mind” truly exposed the beautiful mind of the boy and what he had acquired through reading and understanding.

Refreshments were served plentifully and enjoyed by all present. A wonderful morning of prose and verse came to a close by noon.

Saffron Robes

I dreamt of saffron robes floating gently on water

Calm, smooth, soothing

Unruffled by the winds, unwavering against the waves

But saffron robes are on fire

Fire, they scream

As they run for cover

Trying to douse it first with clean water, then anything their flailing hands can grab

But the heat is growing

And smoke is swirling like an old man’s beard across the skies

Through the towns and into the villages

A fiery language that no one understands pounds the hot misty air

As the mighty dragon in saffron robes exhales

Yellow, orange and then red

As red as the rubies in its eyes

It stamps across the town in anger, waving its head, breathing fire

The saffron robes flying and flapping this way and that, fanning the flames

The city is now burning, grey ashes crumble

I wake up from my dream

of saffron robes floating gently in clear water

Encircling me in kindness, tolerance and maitri

I open my eyes and my world is on fire

A strong, engulfing, saffron-coloured fire

By Himangi Jayasundere

Merry March Madness

I was just 7 years old, in 1955, when I had the glorious opportunity to attend the first Royal-Thomian cricket match in my life. The ecstasy of preparing for the game was out of this world. We had to be clad in white shirt and shorts as members of the school boys tent. The only colorful attire we had on was the blue and gold flag.

The school bus took us to the Oval under the watchful eyes of our class teacher, Ms Dissanayake. We arrived before the match started and took our seats diligently, with the summer sun eating into our faces. Two days of fun, frolic, and fanfare, accompanied by cheers, jeers, hot lunch packs, ice cream, soft drinks, pineapple and gram.

As we moved up the ladder and entered College, the whole spectrum turned on its head. The year was 1960. Most of us were 12. The evening before the match day was an event not to be missed. Everyone gathered at the College gates on bicycles. Each bike had a blue and gold lantern hanging from each handle bar. An old crock truck filled with seniors led the procession. We took the route along Racecourse Avenue via Thurstan Road from the Flower Road circle all the way to Bambalapitiya junction and then back again to College via Reid Avenue. A “papare” band blared out its sounds on trumpet and percussion and people all along the streets gathered to watch us pass by. The feeling of being special was unimaginable.

A few years later we were “grown up” and mature to take the role of the so called “naughty” boys of big matches. Match morning kicked off with the boys, all clad in various forms of fancy dress, gathering at the gates to mount the old croc truck.  Some wore their sisters bra’s. Some in tail coats. The Muslims never forgot their Fez caps. The band played. The boys bellowed. First stop was at CMS Ladies College on Flower Road. The driver managed to take the truck inside the school. The girls were all excited and waving. Into the Principals room went a bunch of the mischievous. A few gathered flowers from the pots nearby. Up went the ;principal on the shoulders of the boys. “She’s a jolly good fellow …” and “Hip hip hooray” cluttered the air. The flowers were handed over to her and we had to scoot before the cops came in. The girls were ecstatic. The Cinnamon gardens Police was alerted. We were hauled into the station, warned, and despatched with no serious consequences. Everyone in town knew what the Royal Thomian was all about. Even politicians were great fans of the match. Since that fateful day, CMS Ladies College closed school on the first day of the match, which was always a Friday.

Off to Saraswathy Lodge at Bambalapitiya for breakfast. Dosa and Sambhar with Vadai. Not everyone paid as they chose to scoot off into the truckwhile the waiters were looking the other way. Then, a bee line to the Oval. The lyrics of the baila’s sung needed much censorship. But then, the censor board folks were at the match already. So, what the heck?

Two days of festivities. Rumor had it that even our fathers did the same. No one really cared if we won or lost. It was all about having a great time together. The tradition lives on to date. May the best team win. R*O*Y*A*L “Royal!”                                                                         

Fazli /Feb 2020

Songs in the Wind

Sweet singing voices come to me

In the silence

Drifting in the breeze of a curfew night

Little boys, young girls, men, women, elderly folk

Singing

Voices raised in melodious oneness

Fleeting joyous choral refrains

Briefly filling the empty night

Then faint and inaudible

I think I hear them say … “We are alright …”

“Don’t worry, it will be ok one day … you’ll see …”

As the ocean breeze gently gathers the music

Back to its bosom

I wonder,

Were their voices raised in song that day

When they were silenced in church, on Easter Sunday

- Himangi Jayasundere/Feb 2020