Mother and salted fish bites

By Febby Sahla

about mother and child on the archipelago over there

It's about the lights of the capital that we see see her twinkling. Children without protection when held in the motherland and limp without a power vacuum when cold infiltrates the soul.

Their face was so pale that no trace of a smile. Meretricious whatever dogma is so strong hit, already decaying wisdom merged in order that increasingly destroyed.
But, while enjoying the salty fish are served, my face never lost. The look on a map of every field that love I made sure never worn even more inflamed liver.

Son, Mother's not cracked... stay with you looking at, as each mouthful of salted fish trays too slowly, enjoy every chew's, was no less grateful for every crumb in an... I gently wipe the water pooled in the bitterness. Whatever sustenance served us right now.

Mother looked dazed and disheveled in a face-to-lip quiver.
Mother was a fierce thunderstorm, which delivers only have pity.
Although not so tough now, a simple prayer songs remain on the sidelines of the lake was stagnant, and love is not pinned to imagine.

This last mouthful of salted fish and rice that cools...
If no box is left later or deposits that do not live in fear, Mother's testament containers and lids of gratitude in the man of submission. Not worth it... but not difficult when you put it at the heart box and every time you open the lesson again.

{From the street on the way to learn to map any crumbs into learning}

Semarang, February 23, 2011
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Febby Sahla. Writes frequently on social networking sites. Her works can be found there. Living in Semarang.

Read it fears

By Malika Hasan

For him, every day is rainy
Who nailed the earth with fears
Song of the mountain, the vibration of trees, plants whisper
Is torture

Somehow he soak the sand with the sun
The sea behind the hills, groaned, and then die
White-backed fish, slanted eyes
Poking the boat looked lost, his mouth locked
Similar statues mossy, frozen Prophets

Perhaps in this life, travel time not as blue as Lake Sentani
Feels more lonely bitter gall, from the death of seals on a raft
Skin smashed
Just like an elegy:

A young fisherman rusty ribs
A grain of salt helpless in the stomach is full of fire
Witnessing his father's eyes glittered
Wives claim to love children
But the plant thorns, deceptive web of its own

The days were so faithful, waiting for the witch offer sunflower seeds
Then caress ash and dust settled on his self-

Does not he realize?
This is the month of May tearful drizzle
Hordes of middle-aged men want to return to the womb of the mother
"There is no sadness there, the place is paradise!"

From a distance, the sound of black hawk down sobbing at the foot of the old gods
Drifting without form, unable to rotate the earth
Everything becomes fears in his own mind
And he, silent in the noise passion
Sensing her figure filled with beetles, brown and red

Instantly silent sea,
Many thousands of flying fish to hide, like the waves of calm into the mist
He was rushed to weigh a handful of heart, oh like myself

The man with the clay body, sculpted on mangrove roots
Without a voice...

Surabaya, June 2011
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Malika Hasan. Woman poet with a straightforward poems and works well as an entrepreneur. Living in Surabaya.

All The Time

By Susy Ayu

you're my fuel barge
you jail me at your altar
my longing rose into the sky
as the prayer paper ash

when i'm drunk your incense
would you still accuse me cold and frozen?

while I waited eternal
i miss dying
frozen into a statue
in your temples

June 18, 2011
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Susy Ayu. She is a woman poet. Her works are scattered in various media. Her last work "Merapi Gugat". She lives in Bekasi, West Java.

Look in the Full Moon Eyes of Ima

By Skylashtar Maryam

I'm looking for full days behind the eyes, Ima
had embeddable night, possibly abducted and missing rain
which clearly did not find any single fluorescent light in between the eyebrows and cheek
smooth cheek, which was always making out that red
full now sow drops
while the stalk was not one star that I could reap
not from the quivering lips
not from your breasts are blooming

will keep looking for that full moon, Ima
probably not above your belly,
not inside your warm womb
especially to your eyes...


June 9, 2011
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Skylashtar Maryam. Often writing in various media. Living in Bandung.

Back Home

By Mayoko Aiko

Here
Among the pieces of the past
Scattered in the wall of my house
And I want to fall asleep,
Although I do not fully asleep
But I'm comfortable here
In this house

Go home
And let the relief came over
Leaving cloudy and gray clouds
Port combing liver
Dim but surely!
And the little boat that was to take me!
Here:
In this house!

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Mayoko Aiko. He is a writer of short stories and novels. One of his novel is "Diantara Dua Lelaki" - Between Two Men. His latest novel in cooperation with Reni Teratai Air and Putra Gara, "Dua Sisi Susi", a historical novel background of Tunggul Ametung.

Wet

By Hana Aina

This afternoon
high clouds in the sky
reminds me of sprinkling of snow
when cold pierced bone, petrified
you serve in a cloud of warmth affection
ah, the pitcher was still there
that drain into my cup of tea tasty
I waited, the sweetness back
gulped esophagus
:wet

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Hana Aina. The young girl, who loved poetry. She often wrote poems on social networking sites facebook.