Trincomalee Sunday , now available at Sarasavi bookshop and Vijitha Yapa bookshops

White lies

In a strange land, when strangers , with only stories they tell, become your friends. Sometimes these things happen

To the Swiss  millionaire ,
who gave all away to the poor

only to toil as a watchmaker, disguised 

I told

I am a heir apparent

in the small kindom of Serendib

hiding away

Till the kingdom calls

Tis Christmas Eve

There was darkness and then there was candles , in an unusually dark chapel at 1700 in the evening.

A strange story about a moldy orange , which an eight year old (closer to nine as she says ) found very interesting.

A Christmas tree shining through the grey skyline.

At a corner coffee shop , a father playing with his two young sons . "This little piggy went to Wanchai to dance with the girls..." . An early start...

Three sisters play Rock , Paper Scissors in the tube . All grown up , yet with their girly giggles and sibling quarrels, they are in a world of their own .

A teenage daughter and her mother standing still on a escalator . Bags in their hands . The mother slightly leans forward and kisses her little girl's hair ..Oh so tenderly and yet discretely. Lest you make a young miss very embarrassed. You could see the memories of years filling up her mind .

Lighthouse

The Lighthouse
set her self to her best
dusk after dusk
sits high by the shore
to lure a lonely sailor
at the passing ships she winks

My First book Trincomalee Sunday .

The proceeds from the sale of the book goes towards building school library in the war ravished eastern
Sri Lanka , through the "Children of the conflict" project by Candleaid Lanka.
 http://www.candleaid.org/postwar.

Trincomalee Sunday

Rose water pink
Green yellow sweet
Saruwath man clinks
his bottles full of dreams

Trincomalee Saruwath
Trincomalee dreams

Azure ,Cobalt waves
neat reindha edged
uncurling
on  the lonely white sands

Trincomalee waves
Trincomalee sands

Sweet nothing whispers
them lovers’ hush between
the prying breeze
picks & carries away
flaring up hopes
the kind, one keeps
hidden deep within

Trincomalee breeze
Trincomalee hopes


That was yesterday
one Trincomalee  Sunday
(Clear skies, cotton clouds
completing the fantasy)
I must confess, that  I too drifted
caught up in the
daze 


That was yesterday
before
simpler times blurred
for reasons unfortunate
leaving just stories
(everyone’s got a story)
nobody’d tell 


Trincomalee storytellers
Trincomalee tales 


Note:
Saruwath:              A sweet , brightly colored sugary drink sold specially at village fairs
Reindha:               Lace