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100 WORDS
Thank you for
all the many contributions sent in to the 100 Word page on Gentle.
It was interesting to see how many writers had associated that word
with motherhood and then again with animals. The theme for October
is GAZE.
Please send
in your contributions before October 18 to:
Madubhashini Ratnayake,
C/o The Sunday Times,
No. 8, Hunupitiya Cross Road,
Colombo.
Motherhood
Among
dark crags,
jutting like rotten teeth,
ailing in a putrid maw.
Against a backdrop
of cruel, bland sky,
a screech, inhuman, unearthly,
reverberated,
in monstrous overtones.
As bitter black
as its environment,
as appalling as hell itself,
the grotesque aberration
of a bird,
flicked saucer sized,
reptilian, lidless eyes.
Limbs askew
and headless,
a pitiful carcass dangled,
skewered on a blood caked
terrible beak.
Ululating another ominous cry,
she bent her head,
to feed her young,
paradoxically,
unbelievably,
as gentle as a dove.
Shivanthi Balasuriya
That gentle
touch
It was
too gentle to be felt
- her touch.
But I know she touched me.
With eyes full of words
she smiled faintly,
hesitated
and then
touched me.
Years and years have passed.
But the memory lingers
for me to savour -
the memory of that moment
when at her garden gate,
as I was leaving,
she touched me.
I am sure she touched me
- gently.
Lionel Senanayake
Gentlemen
Luxury cars pass by
I ask,
"Mum, who are they?"
"Inside them, son,
are gentlemen."
"Aren't those who ride
bicycles, gentlemen?
"No, son."
Now I know
the name for the people
in cars and vans -
gentlemen.
T. P. Senanayaka
Gentle assassin
She was
the queen croc
feared by everybody
on the river bank
had the biggest mouth
with a set of teeth to go with it
could rip through
Toughest buck hide
yet.... when she became a mom
she could handle
her weak offspring
gently, so gently
with the same fearsome mouth
to the safety of the murky waters
Jeevaka Mahesh
The
mother hen
Gently, silently the mother hen spread
her red feathered wings -
an indication to gather her brood...
ten chirpy chicks crept within
those downy feathers, a comfort to all.
Once within, one wee head pops out...
She pecks and cleans the little one.
Her peck is gentleness profound.
A stealthy cat passes by,
so does an eagle-eyed crow!
Yet none of these could disturb them.
She only puffed out her feathers red
in resentment
none felt the inward tremble
of a mother protecting her brood.
Maithri Samarasinghe
Gently
does it
A strange little plant
firm but never opposing
the elements -
be it scorching heat,
torrential rain
or a whirling tornado -
never rigidly against them
but rhythmically swaying
always humbly bending
in the direction of the flow
never will be uprooted
a labyrinth of roots
provides strong anchorage
never will be broken apart
unlike the towering trees rigid -
an ultimate survivor
with its strange but gentle adaptations
Thushara Chathuranga
The
art of it
"Gently does it," says my mother, as I pour the
hot milk into the beaten eggs. "You can't make a custard in
haste. If you try, you will only curdle it."
Now as I stare
into my computer screen, her words come back to me. You simply can't
make a recalcitrant programme run properly by kicking or swearing
at it. No, be patient.
Go at it gently.
Softly, softly, as the Chinese say…
Prianthi Wickramasuriya.
Gentle
Clouds of dust blew in the wind through the street. A crow
flew away from the Bo tree. A bitch and her young ones came under
it. The bitch sat. The four young ones began to frolic around her.
The bitch stood. She strolled towards the garbage can under the
Bo tree.
She peeped
into it. She stared. A little baby was in it. She gazed at the baby,
for a long moment.
The rosy lips
moved slowly. The bitch looked back.
The young ones
were coming to her. She got them close and began to feed them.
K. K. G. I. Dilmini
My father
A write
off
from the University sick bay
he brought me home
driving his old jalopy
eyes screwed, hands unsteady
a lone mind a tumult.
Sixty miles.
His friend,
the doctor said
I'll give her this injection - the last resort
if by midnight the fever persists still,
there is no hope.
My hands lay
inert on his
through the delirium, my eyes sought his
till the dawn caught
his gaunt exhausted face
in its gentle light
I've never felt
hands
as gentle, as loving,
never seen eyes more gentle,
never known a heart beat so gentle
through all life's trials.
May life be
gentle to you, father,
wherever you are born.
Leila Ekanayake
Mary
Gentle Mary, mother mild
when you gazed upon your child,
when you looked into His eyes,
when you hushed His sleepy cries,
when you tossed Him in the air,
laughed, - seemingly without care
did you know, one day He'll be
upon a cross on Calvary?
At the moment
of His birth
when shepherds extolled His worth
did you tremble with pride and fear
when you saw, Wise Men draw near?
then in fear, from Herald, bold
you fled to Egypt, we are told
did you ever think, "Dear God, why me?"
When you saw your son - nailed to a tree?
Janine Vanigasooriya
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