Little Man


One murky morning in early seventies,
Little Man, an eight-year old
Scrawny little child,
stole into an abandoned govt estate
with his two fellow thieves
and climbed a coconut tree,
for hunger flooded
his head.

That was his first space visit,
and it was not to spy on Moon
or to bring rice from Saturn,
yet to share with his two brothers
the remaining two young coconuts,
for he heard their bellies growl.
His left hand gripped the tree trunk
and the right twisted the first coconut
or tickled the nut behind,
and the nut smiled, hustled,
leapt down,
and then rolled

and knelt at the feet of a village bandit.
Either to snatch the coconut
or just to hear the child’s cry,
bandit picked the coconut.
Hunger clouded Little Man’s smile
and he said, “keep it, or I’ll fall
and die”.
The man was a bandit, yet he threw
the coconut and limped
down the sloppy land,
letting Little Man
win the game,

yet it was too late.
Either the child let his hand go
or he could not hold the tree trunk anymore,
he slipped down
and hugged the craggy mound.


Newton Ranaweera, July 28, 2020
Image source: Pixabay

Guilt: Just sit and eat

I feel guilty
of being able to
just sit
and eat,
just sit
and eat.

They sweat
from morning till night,
yet can’t sit;
they don’t eat;
they only sweat
from morning till night.

Is this my fate
and their fate
where I just eat,
yet they don’t;
I just sit,
yet they can’t?

I feel guilty
of this fate
that lets me eat,
just sit and eat
whereas they sweat,
yet can’t sit,
and don’t eat.

Copyright © November 3, 2018, Newton Ranaweera
Image source: Pixabay

A Just World

See the road you have passed;
see the people you have left behind;
a beggar once you were
begging from door to door,
brothers of yours in advance.

One died of cholera, another survived;
you escaped miraculously;
a revolutionist you were,
revolting against autocracy,
seeking for democracy, a just world.

They burnt many alive, shot dozens;
you escaped miraculously;
a varsity don finally you were,
still voicing against injustice,
rebelling against tyranny;

they fired many, and shut your mouth,
and you escaped into a foreign land
to dream that never ending dream.

(January 3, 2016)

So Kind Guru

Most ven Dr

A jungle was his head
for lies to hide;
no brush ever touched
his teeth too wide.

His rough-edged feet
feared no thorns;
his shorts and shirt
clung ever to his bones.

Degrees, post-degrees
Internally, he earned;
degrees, post-degrees
overseas, he earned.

Though wealth and money
never loved this honey,
he quit many jobs
and became a guru.

No mother, no father
made his Fate so kind,
but a so kind Guru
who is now – dead.

(wrote on December 28, 2015; edited on January 2, 2016 and November 25/26, 2016)
Posted on Poet’s Corner on Nov. 26, 2016.