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Author: seribulan

[Penulis] ..poetry's most powerful lines ever written...

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Post time 5-10-2017 08:34 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
DOA

Dengan apakah kubandingkan pertemuan kita, kekasihku?
Dengan senja samar sepoi, pada masa purnama meningkat naik,
setelah menghalaukan panas payah terik,
Angin malam menghembus lemah,
menyejuk badan, melambung
rasa menanyang pikir, membawa angan ke bawah kursimu.
Hatiku terang menerima katamu,
bagai bintang memasang lilinnya.
Kalbuku terbuka menunggu kasihmu,
bagai sedap-malam menyirak kelopak
Aduh, kekasihku, isi hatiku dengan katamu, penuhi dadaku dengan cahayamu, biar bersinar mataku sendu, biar berbinar gelakku rayu

— Amir Hamzah
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Post time 5-10-2017 08:40 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
Sajak-Sajak Kecil Tentang Cinta

/1/
mencintai angin
harus menjadi siut
mencintai air
harus menjadi ricik
mencintai gunung
harus menjadi terjal
mencintai api
harus menjadi jilat

/2/
mencintai cakrawala
harus menebas jarak

/3/
mencintai-Mu
harus menjelma aku

— Sapardi Djoko Damono

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Post time 5-10-2017 08:45 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
HANYA

hanya suara burung yang kaudengar
dan tak pernah kaulihat burung itu
tapi tahu burung itu ada di sana

hanya desir angin yang kaurasa
dan tak pernah kaulihat angin itu
tapi percaya angin itu di sekitarmu

hanya doaku yang bergetar malam ini
dan tak pernah kaulihat siapa aku
tapi yakin aku ada dalam dirimu

— Sapardi Djoko Damono
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Post time 5-10-2017 08:52 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
PEMBERIAN TAHU

Bukan maksudku mau berbagi nasib,
nasib adalah kesunyian masing-masing.
Kupilih kau dari yang banyak, tapi
sebentar kita sudah dalam sepi lagi terjaring.
Aku pernah ingin benar padamu,
Di malam raya, menjadi kanak-kanak kembali.

Kita berpeluk ciuman tidak jemu,
Rasa tak sanggup ku lepaskan.
Jangan satukan hidupmu dengan hidupku,
Aku memang tidak bisa lama bersama
Ini juga kutulis di kapal, di laut tidak bernama!

— Chairil Anwar

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Post time 5-10-2017 08:57 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
DERAI DERAI CEMARA

cemara menderai sampai jauh
terasa hari akan jadi malam
ada beberapa dahan di tingkap merapuh
dipukul angin yang terpendam

aku sekarang orangnya bisa tahan
sudah berapa waktu bukan kanak lagi
tapi dulu memang ada suatu bahan
yang bukan dasar perhitungan kini

hidup hanya menunda kekalahan
tambah terasing dari cinta sekolah rendah
dan tahu, ada yang tetap tidak diucapkan
sebelum pada akhirnya kita menyerah

— Chairil Anwar, 1949

*musikalisasi puisi ini daripada Banda Neira boleh didengar di Youtube atau Spotify

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Post time 5-10-2017 10:23 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
kepalaku: kantor paling sibuk di dunia
- alifiah

engkau tahu? kepalaku: kantor paling sibuk di dunia.
anehnya, hanya seorang bekerja tiada lelah di sana.
tak mengenal hari minggu atau hari libur nasional.
tak pula mengenal siang dan malam. tak mengenal.
apa-apa kecuali bekerja, bekerja, bekerja dan bekerja.

kadang-kadang ingin sekali suatu pagi melihatnya datang
menyodorkan sehelai map berisi surat permohonan cuti.
ingin pergi ke satu tempat yang jauh, mengasingkan diri
beberapa hari di awal desember yang lembab sembari
merayakan hari ulang tahun sendiri. lalu di depan pintu
kantor terpasang sebuah tanda berwarna merah: tutup.

tetapi ia betul-betul seorang pekerja keras.
setiap saat ia berada di kantor. mungkin hendak
menyelesaikan seluruh persoalan waktu yang tidak
pernah mampu selesai itu. tentang masa lampau
yang tersisa di masa sekarang. tentang keinginan
berhenti atau tak berhenti. juga tentang perihal lain
yang sepele namun sungguh rumit untuk dijelaskan.

ya, percayalah. kepalaku: kantor paling sibuk di dunia.
anehnya, hanya seorang bekerja tiada lelah di sana.

engkau saja.

- M Aan Mansyur

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Post time 5-10-2017 10:31 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
KETIKA ADA YANG BERTANYA TENTANG CINTA

Ketika aku bertanya kepadamu tentang cinta, kau melihat langit membentang lapang. Menyerahkan diri untuk dinikmati, tapi menolak untuk dimiliki.

Ketika kau bertanya kepadaku tentang cinta, aku melihat nasib manusia. Terkutuk hidup di bumi bersama jangkauan lengan mereka yang pendek dan kemauan mereka yang panjang.

Ketika aku bertanya kepadamu tentang cinta, kau bayangkan aku seekor burung kecil yang murung. Bersusah payah terbang mencari tempat sembunyi dari mata peluru para pemburu.

Ketika kau bertanya kepadaku tentang cinta, aku bayangkan kau satu-satunya pohon yang tersisa. Kau kesepian dan mematahkan cabang-cabagng sendiri.

Ketika ada yang bertanya tentang cinta, apakah sungguh yang dibutuhkan adalah kemewahan kata-kata atau cukup ketidaksempurnaan kita?

— M Aan Mansyur
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Post time 5-10-2017 10:40 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
PADA SUATU HARI NANTI

pada suatu hari nanti
jasadku tak akan ada lagi
tapi dalam bait-bait sajak ini
kau takkan kurelakan sendiri

pada suatu hari nanti
suaraku tak terdengar lagi
tapi di antara larik-larik sajak ini
kau akan tetap kusiasati

pada suatu hari nanti
impianku pun tak dikenal lagi
namun di sela-sela huruf sajak ini
kau takkan letih-letihnya kucari

— Sapardi Djoko Damono
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Post time 5-10-2017 11:31 PM From the mobile phone | Show all posts
SURAT CINTA

Bukankah surat cinta ini ditulis
ditulis ke arah siapa saja
Seperti hujan yang jatuh rimis
menyentuh arah siapa saja

Bukankah surat cinta ini berkisah
berkisah melintas lembar bumi yang fana
Seperti misalnya gurun yang lelah
dilepas embun dan cahaya

— Goenawan Mohamad, 1963

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 Author| Post time 6-10-2017 09:55 AM | Show all posts

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 Author| Post time 6-10-2017 09:59 AM | Show all posts

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 Author| Post time 6-10-2017 10:00 AM | Show all posts

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 Author| Post time 6-10-2017 10:01 AM | Show all posts

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 Author| Post time 6-10-2017 10:05 AM | Show all posts

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Post time 6-10-2017 11:59 AM | Show all posts
A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

by Edgar Allan Poe
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Post time 6-10-2017 12:00 PM | Show all posts
Edited by idakamaruddin at 6-10-2017 12:01 PM

Life is fine

I went down to the river,


I set down on the bank.


I tried to think but couldn't,


So I jumped in and sank.


I came up once and hollered!


I came up twice and cried!


If that water hadn't a-been so cold


I might've sunk and died.


But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!


I took the elevator


Sixteen floors above the ground.


I thought about my baby


And thought I would jump down.


I stood there and I hollered!


I stood there and I cried!


If it hadn't a-been so high


I might've jumped and died.


But it was High up there! It was high!


So since I'm still here livin',


I guess I will live on.


I could've died for love--


But for livin' I was born


Though you may hear me holler,


And you may see me cry--


I'll be dogged, sweet baby,


If you gonna see me die.


Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!


by Langston Hughes


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Post time 6-10-2017 12:13 PM | Show all posts
Edited by idakamaruddin at 6-10-2017 12:16 PM

The Poor Ghost

"Oh whence do you come, my dear friend, to me,
With your golden hair all fallen below your knee,
And your face as white as snowdrops on the lea,
And your voice as hollow as the hollow sea?"
"From the other world I come back to you,
My locks are uncurled with dripping drenching dew.
You know the old, whilst I know the new:
But tomorrow you shall know this too."

"Oh not tomorrow into the dark, I pray;
Oh not tomorrow, too soon to go away:
Here I feel warm and well-content and gay:
Give me another year, another day."

"Am I so changed in a day and a night
That mine own only love shrinks from me with fright,
Is fain to turn away to left or right
And cover up his eyes from the sight?"

"Indeed I loved you, my chosen friend,
I loved you for life, but life has an end;
Thro' sickness I was ready to tend:
But death mars all, which we cannot mend.

"Indeed I loved you; I love you yet
If you will stay where your bed is set,
Where I have planted a violet
Which the wind waves, which the dew makes wet."

"Life is gone, then love too is gone,
It was a reed that I leant upon:
Never doubt 1 will leave you alone
And not wake you rattling bone with bone.

"I go home alone to my bed,
Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head,
Roofed in with a load of lead,
Warm enough for the forgotten dead.

"But why did your tears soak thro' the clay,
And why did your sobs wake me where I lay?
I was away, far enough away:
Let me sleep now till the Judgment Day."

by Christina Rossetti
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Post time 6-10-2017 12:51 PM | Show all posts
Why He Was There

Much as he left it when he went from us
Here was the room again where he had been
So long that something oh him should be seen,
Or felt-and so it was. Incredulous,
I turned about, loath to be greeted thus,
And there he was in his old chair, serene
As ever, and as laconic as lean
As when he lived, and as cadaverous.

Calm as he was of old when we were young,
He sat there gazing at the pallid flame
Before him. 'And how far will this go on?'
I thought. He felt the failure of my tongue,
And smiled: 'I was not here until you came;
And I shall not be here when you are gone.'


by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Post time 6-10-2017 12:53 PM | Show all posts
A Blank Letter

An envelope arrives unannounced from overseas
containing stark white sheets,

perfect in their presentation of absence.
Only a bold logo on top

revealed its origin, but absolutely nothing else.
I examined the sheets,

peered through their grains —
heavy cotton-laid striations —

concealing text, in white ink, postmarked India.
Even the watermark's translucence

made the script’s invisibility transparent.
Buried among the involute contours, lay sheets

of sophisticated pulp, paper containing
scattered metaphors — uncoded, unadorned,

untouched — virgin lines that spill, populate
and circulate to keep alive its breathings.

Corpuscles of a very different kind —
hieroglyphics, unsolved, but crystal-clear.


by Sudeep Sen
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