Poets, Writing Project

Falling from Sky

What a pure thing a sailor be,

Breathing the salt-wind and deep blue water

Not knowing war and crime

Happening miles away from sea


What a peaceful day a farmer has,

Exhausted by planting seed and cropping corn field

Not witnessing evil pulling pen that is not gun

Far, far above the motherland


What an exquisite home a baby sleeps,

Safe and sound inside his crib

Not suffocating, dying in Syria’s leftover ground

Burn with chlorine – or sarin they never ask for


What a comfort one may never thank for,

To read,

To see,

To remember,

To imagine,

To cry,

without having to run

no stamp, no flag

asking for one more day


What a joy

What a life.


SA – New York, 6 April 2017

To Syria

Poets, Writing Project

A Tale of April Fool

Dear reckless, you always forgot your umbrella

Wrapping hands inside your wet coat, waving to stop a yellow cab

Don’t fight the East Coast wind; you can’t

Let today be rain

Must give someone else’s day a bless

An America’s favorite Frenchman now a wet street somewhere downtown

O, Lafayette! Lafayette!

The hero of the two worlds, I recall his fight for the unborn


I, too, want to repeat history but stumbled upon my insecurity

Earth keep moving, at 2 a.m. days and nights tick-tocking – intertwining

Tell me how a transition does to reveal your flaw

A mediocre stamp to your unworthy non-existence

How a soul not bleed, having loved by many but left them behind easy

Wouldn’t you want to be low grounded and laid, just all?


Then stay!

For month has changed and half-year goes by

When winter ends, a daughter lost her father

Long before she know her road is steeply rise

Thousand butterflies floats above the tranquil strawberry field

She heard John Lennon from the Central Park circular bronze plaque

“Imagine if there is no me”

So I,

Count up to one two three

Scrolling down my phone, forget to pay a bill and whisper

“How are you, Pa?”

Words are loose, and wishes are mud thick

Pa, I wish we share the same poem…


So I’m taking this bus from Harlem

Reminiscing Manhattan, a tale of unfinished stories

A stranger with gray hair asks, how is your country?

I said fine; there you can eye wide ocean from the top of the mountain

Sun shines to the abundance, the yellow rice-paddies, and the villager’s hats

That once my home, my precious root

But one thing missing yet is for you to be understood

That’s how I moved, yeah, that’s why I moved


I walk again

Round and round, heading to the late cherry blossom somewhere in Brooklyn

Long ago I knew a person who wants the same thing

To be loved, to be spoiled,

and shamefully frazzled by the April fool.


SA – New York, 2 April 2017


Pukul Tiga

*Untuk Samsul, Andrall, Oji, Gaga, dan Tirsa.


pukul tiga tadi aku mengamatimu

yang lelap dalam hitam tembaga

tubuh-tubuh lelah bersilang dan berjuntakposisi;

meracau keraguan-kekosongan bunga tidur

nyala dan rupa yang tak akan kau ingat esok hari


hanya aku yang akhirnya terjaga pada pukul tiga

bukan dengkurmu yang membangunkanku,

bukan aspal jalan raya yang tergilas truk dan meronta,

atau derit kipas angin yang

mengingatkanku pada ringkih tua ibu bapak kita

bukan perkara tidur kita


sebab alarmmu bising berbunyi sejak tadi

menjelma rencana suka cita ingin riuh

seperti subuh kemarin di puncak Kendil

O Suroloyo! wangi kabutmu pekat di wajah-wajah musafir

kenanganmu lekat direkam lensa gawai kami


tapi kantuk terlalu kejam, kawan,

terlalu kejam untuk melanjutkan perjalanan


di sebelah bantal-bantal,

kurutuki tangan-tangan kita yang sengaja bersisian

akankah kubangunkan kau yang terpejam damai?

apakah tega kusintas pertarungan batin yang bahkan belum kau selesaikan?


pukul tiga pagi yang hanya ada aku sendiri itu,

kurelakan pembicaraan tentang lereng Gunung Sumbing

menguar jadi embun pada spion-spion motor dingin di garasi


maka cinta pada matahari pagi itu, kawanku,

adalah sebuah peruntungan yang hanya sekali kita miliki


Magelang, 8 Mei 2016


Laut Biru

Laut biru.

Muncul di sepertiga mimpiku.

Semalam, dua malam, tiga belas malam yang telah lalu.

Gelombangnya tinggi

Lalu pecah, di pasir basah.

Meleleh asin di sudut mata.

Laut biru pun muncul, tertangkap retina mata saat terjaga.

Ada daratan yang di antaranya ombak.

Ada kerinduan yang di antaranya jarak.

Sepanjang laut biru,

Yang ku lihat hanya kamu…


In faith I trust, on you I rely

Alone but not lonely,

Uncertain but not scared,

Lost but not pain,

In faith I trust.. On you I rely.

Night and day, and what’s happened between it,

are meant to build us a bridge.

This is the beginning of the story,

That you and me was fall too deep.

Loving you,

Is like loving the sunset gone with the wind,

And kiss the smell of the glory night,

And stares at the stars,

And touch the cold of morning dew,

And watch the sunrise,

And feel the summer breeze.

Loving you,

Is night and day, and what happened between it.

Now what about the distance?

A thousand miles between U and S, it isn’t far.

A billion seconds that separating breath and beat, it isn’t long.

we have US.

I love US.

In faith I trust, on you I rely.


Moon Over My Obscure Little Town (by: Andrea Hirata)

Andrea Hirata, salah satu penulis favoritku ini menuliskan sepenggal puisi di buku terbarunya, Dwilogi Padang Bulan-Cinta di Dalam Gelas.
Puisi ini dibuatkan Ikal kepada Enong, curahan perasaan ketika Aling pergi meninggalkannya begitu saja.
sederhana. penuh makna.

Moon Over My Obscure Little Town

someone stranger
standing in a mirror
i can’t believe what i see
how much love has been taken from me
my heart cries out loud
everytime i feel lonely in the crowd
getting you out of my mind
like separating the wind from the cloud
i’m so afraid
of losing someone i never have
crazy, oh crazy
finding reasons for my jealousy
all i can remember
when you left me alone
under the moon over my obscure little town
as long as i can remember
love has turned to be as cold as december
the moon over my obscure little town
the moon over my obscure little town