This play’s title: Love, Lust & Dust,
Aptly implies a bitter tragedy life is.
With love it begins, an ecstatic start,
And onrushes through complexities
To climax: crazy satiation with illusive lust,
When we dance as crabs in a boiling pot,
Being with all the pleasures drunk,
Not knowing what dread fate is to come next,
And then ends this play curiously heroic
In misery, when everything: love – lust,
Turns to ashes, and at last, to odorless dust.
Copyright © January 1, 2020, Newton Ranaweera
Cover Design by Sachin Ranaweera
Note of Thanks
from whom I ought
to thank all that
that helped to bloom this little
flower of verses
and to share its fragrance of love – leading
to dust through lust, the climax
of all our wanton desires –
I’ll begin with you, Ven. Ananda,
with folded hands against my forehead,
salute of gratitude,
for poetry being my only treasure
and I have no other means to thank you,
and thank you, Shafna and my WordPress fellow bloggers,
for your kind
contribution to bloom this flower.
Now my sons: thank you, Mahesh,
the cover design and
sponsorship and you,
Sachith & Sachin,
for personalizing my gross concepts
with concrete images, and
finally, take this garland of love
Prema (mother of my sons) for igniting my
creativity with your love.
Note of Thanks for my second poetry collection: Love, Lust & Dust
Copyright © October 9, 2019, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay
Sire, have you felt love ever,
Ever, in your vast pool of lust,
Where you play love forever
With stolen mermaids of love?
When mermaids murmur love
To inflame your ceaseless lust,
Flames of lust must rise above,
Yet yearn for love turns to dust.
When will you cease this quest,
This quest for love in sheer lust
And willfully seek a lasting rest,
Turning lust into a cloud of dust?
Copyright © Feb. 07, 2019, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay
Tell me which part you deem you do admire.
If it’s my eyes, my mouth, my breasts, or hip
That rouses lust, desire, your earthly fire,
For you to love I can that part now strip.
But mind! my eyes, my mouth, my breasts and all
Are filled with filth; which unless I mend stink,
And then you’ll see how soon apart they fall,
Which does then turn your lust to dust in a blink;
Then where’s the beauty of this useless frame
You say you find and hold so dear in your heart?
If it’s my eyes that set your lust aflame,
You’ll have them on your bed, the piece of art.
It’s peace of mind I love but not your love,
So, take them off, my head I do here bow.