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Poetry Page of Pamela Hardy

You can contact pamela at: Pamela_Hardy@hotmail.com

Suradadi

The rhythm of the rain
beats upon my windowpane
reminding me of Bali
in my mind I see again
a little maiden ad her brother
their banana leaf umbrella
brown skin all wet and gleaming
seeking shelter from a storm.

They stopped mid-flight
quite sudden
to discard their leafy cover
such joy of life and laughter
as they stamped about in puddles
dashing splashing in the rain.

The sweet perfume of flowers
Aah the new wet smell of earth
the beauty of this moment never left me
never melted into time.

The rhythm of the rain
beats upon my windowpane
Reminding me of Bali
and the little maid of Suradadi

The true beauty of Bali is a state of mind; expressed in an attitude of harmony.

Morning of the World

There is a faraway island
A much fabled land of the East
of smoking volcano's and coconut palms
sighing sea breezes send friendly hellos
to a dawn kissed horizon blushing with pleasure
the sun ascends slowly and shyly declares-
I am the eye of the day

Extravagantly green lush and fertile
magnificent to behold
rice terraces
like giant steps to heaven-
embroidered in shimmering chartreuse and gold
At dusk from the sawahs returning-
tired and content
for their labours well spent
these brown gentle people-
as one with the earth.
Fireflies dance with a flickering light
fierce thunder is rumbling
white lightning zigzagging
a climactic of violence electric
the staccato of raindrops comes crashing
and loudly intrudes on the still of the night
fitful strains of the gamelan wafting
enchantment is weaving its magical spell
Welcome. Welcome my friend to Bali.

A Perfume Sky
Hush little baby
close your eyes now
I will tell you a tale
of a faraway isle
and volcanoes that soar
in a perfume sky.

Sleep little one
close your eyes tight
I will tell you a story of a land of delight.

A place of contentment
where happiness dwells
old people are honoured
and given much love
all children are treasured
as gifts from the gods.

Hush darling baby
please don't cry
I am singing of sunshine
and a perfumed sky.

The Dalang

In the black gloom of night
beneath a flickering light
sits the Master of Shadows,
how his stories delight.

And then he knocks loudly.
Thrice.

From a slumbering state
his sleepy puppets now wake.

Let the drama begin.

Eerie shapes on the screen
like a deity is he
directing all that is seen
for the puppets are man
and all their actions he plans
by this master
who chants rhymes in Kawi.

For the tap of his feet
is what gives them the beat
and the gender wayang
obey the rhythmic dalang.

Then the story unfolds
from the epics of old
see the clowns kick and fight
how their bawdy humour delights
for the dalang is their master
and the crowd roars with laughter
by his magic enthralled.

But the spell is now broken
for the daylight has called.

Dalang

Di malamnya hitam mendung
di bawah cahaya kerlap-kerlip
duduk-duduk Tuanya bayang
bagaimana menceritaerakan kesenangan

Dan dia ketokan dengan dera-keras tiga kali

Dari tidurnya keadaan
bonekaannya tidurnya sekarang bangun

Biar sandiwara memulai

Di layar putih segala bentuk ngeri takut
Kesukaan dewa adalah ia
Menjukan segala itu kelihatan
Untuk bonekaannya ada manusia
dan mereka tinda-tanduk ia rencana
segara ini nabi isa
siapa bersajak nyanian di Kawi

Untuk ketukanya dari kakinya
membiri mereka memukul irama
Dan Gender Wayang

mentaati beriramnya Dalang
Begitu ceritanya membuka
Dari epiknya dari tua
Melihat badut tendangan dan perkelahian
Bagaimana nakalnya dejenakaan kesenangan

Dalangnya alah mereka Nabi Isa
Dan orang banyak gelak terbahak-bahak
dengan,
karena dia sihir mempesonakan

Tetapi mempesonakanya ada sekarang
memecahakan
untuk sian harinya memiliki menimbulkan

Sailing

Slipping through water
softly like silk
transparent shining water
opaline reflections
in the diaphanous deep.

We ride now the wind
on gossamer wings
like a giant dragonfly
the bright painted prahu
skims the green glass.

O sybarite sylph
crystalline water enchanting
embraced by the sea
overwhelmed by her beauty
rapture sublime
suffuses my being
a lingering zephyr
softly caressing.

Water slipping through fingers
softly like silk
sun-gleams dancing on waves
sparkling like sapphires
faster and faster
the bright painted prahu
skims the green gloss.

Suradadi

The rhythm of the rain
beats upon my windowpane
reminding me of Bali
in my mind I see again
a little maiden ad her brother
their banana leaf umbrella
brown skin all wet and gleaming
seeking shelter from a storm.

They stopped mid-flight
quite sudden
to discard their leafy cover
such joy of life and laughter
as they stamped about in puddles
dashing splashing in the rain.

The sweet perfume of flowers
Aah the new wet smell of earth
the beauty of this moment never left me
never melted into time.

The rhythm of the rain
beats upon my windowpane
Reminding me of Bali
and the little maid of Suradadi

The true beauty of Bali is a state of mind; expressed in an attitude of harmony.