Biography of Violetta Simatupang
Violetta Simatupang Poems
What The Caddie Thinks! (Dedicated To Ra...
She lives on the same planet as ours Small, round, full of holes. Then comes one beautiful day Something went: stroke!
Narayan In An Expo
Yamuna Vihar was sun-roasted Smoking roofs and wailing asphalt everywhere Delhi Pustak Parikrama sobbed on a yellow plank
Lost On Paradise Isle
Paradise isle, surrounded by a sea-like marsh a gliding boat was swallowing saline and brackish water in turn roots clasping like gigantic claws
Ross My Boss
Rosie is Ross. She is my self-conscious boss. Ambitious. And obvious. Talking to her at home words get caught in my throat.
One Grey Day
Lying in her off-white bed wherein words left unsaid, living in several worlds wherein none is possibly absurd,
The Dawn Mother Left
A week ago the old fat house-lizard, mother’s chat pal, was found lying blue behind her closet. In her grief mother buried it near a clay pot. Poor mother. She now had no living creature to talk to. I should have been there instead of being so muddled at work that it was too late at night to greet her. Occasionally I caught her nattering with the lovely moon. One dawn a star took leave to the earth, leaving a misty cloud heavy with traces. For a while mother’s sunken eyes were stared at me. I was startled. Princess...princess... princess..., ” her rigid voice ripped the debris of dreams as if she could no longer stand the world; all the while sealing my too undoubtedly regretful tears for death. The spattering flames under the boiling water and a pair of cups were the last witnesses. Mother never drank it. Her treasured rocking chair was getting older now with no occupant save a bleeding heart and the sheer prudence of an army widow.
Osama - But A Drama
I watch the 1,2,3,4 o'clock wild-eyed views hear the 5,6,7,8 o'clock news
whilst waltzing towards the purple moon here's a bowl of lavender tea
The Odyssey Is Over, Go Away!
the long vestibules know not what the word ‘keep’ means white figures toing and froing a bulky man, a daughter pushing a bier, a mother in four shrouds
(Gliding with the clouds) swept by the wind’s soft caress gazing down to the colourful nadir
My Lover In The Gutter
My lover wasn’t born mouthing a silver spoon Thus raindrops fell Not into a pond But a narrow gutter of greenish water
At The Gas Station Toilet, Begging Kitar...
Come on Kitari, Apologize. Your shoe touched its feet A bucketful of water you threw by the well
Upon My Return
Leaping from the maroon sofa, Ruth kissed me the thief of time snatched it too soon from my weary mouth
To A Young Man Who Flinched Me During T...
Ten years agone a fine looking young man with brown skin like mine and brown eyeballs like mine. So brown the paddy fields mud glow on our Island of the Gods. Plunged his hands below the soil growing lifespan to rice and cranes
Ross My Boss
Rosie is Ross.
She is my self-conscious boss. Ambitious. And obvious.
Talking to her at home words get caught in my throat.
Most of time. Pantomime.
Which surprises me. How being cut off in conversation
Turn my big mouth into pitiless confrontation
As all the senses, tenses, sentences become unpleasantness