Indonesian Poetry Battle on Facebook #4

photo courtesy of Melati Suryodarmo
photo courtesy of Melati Suryodarmo

Theme: “Menghapus Warna dari Makna” / “Erasing Colors of Meaning”

ilic’s challenge was to experiment and create a poem based on a photo snapped by Melati Suryodarmo, a performance artist. A closed-up photograph that renders the materials/object in front of camera lens look more powerful and detail.

There are several rolls of threads in the photo, rich with colors. There is no needle there. In the top of the threads, there is a pile of old papers banded traditionally. The objects are seemed to be materials in making hand made notebook. But there is no one from the floor writes about “hand made book binding/history of how the book was made/anything about books/human culture on book binding”.

ilic wants to know how the poet captures the beauty of the image, disregarding the word “threads”, “needle”, and any representative words that leads to a direct meaning to the object (first layered). Ilic demands the writers to think semiotically, instead of being entangled by the language representation that limits meaning.

The challenge aims to encourage the writers to interpret the picture, as/or to associate with the current issues on difference. It is also aimed to enrich the writers by using some new kinds of metaphors and personification around the materials in the image.

Ugo Untoro (Visual Artist-Painter)
Sanie B Kuncoro (Novelist)
Sunlie Thomas Alexander (Author/Poet)
Dendi Madiya (Theater Director)
Sartika Dian Nuraini (Author)

Ibrahim Maulana Malik Fadlan
I tie that in my mind as to lament my hypocrisy
I hold tightly in your hand as to lament my sins
I roll my dignity as to lament humiliation
I roll my mouth to lament
I pile on top of the soul
I write an essay to lament the beads
I am low as there is no forgiveness for me
Lord purify your slave

Asni Furaida
chaos in your heart
i can read from the shadow of your eyes dear,
never mind
relax, a kite was broken
you can find another kite
that deserves you to fly with pride
it could
unravel like blossoms solar kiss in this morning.

Eddie EsEs
1. have you spoken centuries ago,
and echoed into every heart.
a praying mouth,
hands looking up the sky,
can you visit my room:
where i draw my faith

2. today the television have reported
about wounds
about forget
about prayer
about the origin of the word haram
about you god,

Dewi Mardiyana Sebayang
you’re a perfect metamorphosis
dressing wounds
shut my bad
and said
you’re a groove that
i should always look after
its way

Linggar Rimbawati Puwrowardhoyo
in your body
i attach prayers

my lover
i sowed prayers on your feet since you were a toddler
on a piece of cotton fields, remember?
i wish you a great hurry
and be sheets of paper
to make a jacket or tunic
which hide me from the cold


Ratuarti Laras
the woven heart of my mom

will be assembled from cotton
to accompany a mother
to fix a torn cloth
i befriend with blue

Abmi Handayani
‘por favor,
help me unravel,
this puzzler’
you say
in the

Yudha Purwanto
one line of words, signs, meaning
piled on unresolved matter
solid colors
crumpled like a life

Sri S. Ning
orange of twilight
termites, rooted
circumference, spread
convolution, dodging
convolute, your veins
you; die

Mochammad Asrori

1. etnogram

you should be a night watcher like a kite
space in across the country view
but the wind is shy
and the great fathers
were looking so pale
in warehouse

2. adventure

hold my peak
don’t loose it
so i remain
can spell
way back
to the throne


Herman Syahara
how many
season have you breathe

how far and desolate?

if you want to go back to the beginning of the word,
: a poem which is complete

Alfin Luthviadi
you keep in
a neat roll
are you hiding in a recesses laughter
and thousands of words tempting
a hug
is empty
in its peak

fine spun
in the cross road,
grabbing each other, twisting and writhing in silhouette
clamped in the shadow
passing over the road

Reky Arfal
unravel the tangled threads
between the drizzly,
i want to forget you,
if it had to vent my overflowing pine
a glass of wine

Bob Martokoesoemo
do you remember what our children was made of?
it is natural that after weeping like a demon
he shed
(you immediately wonder) left the dead body
then decomposes,


but i’m getting choked
you’re choking and vomiting blood
this is a form of care
from a child to an abandoned parent

Aris Rahman Yusuf
coming home

fly me with a kite
take me home

Eric Kroncong Protol
games for you

5 year old boy, came up to his mother
the remnants of drizzle wetting barren lands
suppleness hand
thrusts for her baby doll
cheap dolls made from the remnants of matted coils
and his mother whispered softly.
‘do not buy imported dolls,
we can make cheap dolls from these rolls.’

En Hidayat
a story of a naked king
the king exclaimed,
‘I’m wearing an invisible cloak!’

then we sing,
‘Oh, really. You are always true and it’s none of our business.’

Amiril Mueminin
i already know about
your old age
winding life
but not applicable
don’t you call

the tomb somewhere along the line

Lenny Mustapa
You asked if there is no eternal place
For my footsteps by your side
As if a dream is a promise to be paid
La, was my pullout a vague thing?
you hoard the blade
but nothing was moved
even when i go

Kinanthi Anggriani
a relief from the peak of cushion

a silver discoid foam flake, shutting your eyes
colored by the tears of sky, near your kiss, Nendra
swinging wickers at the end of the bed pillows
binding night, embroidering your snoring

on a giddy dream, you turn on a paid spirit
sneak in the wall, without a curtain door
entrust a blinking kiss, in the middle of my forehead

Anton Sulistyo
Blue Period
the light spit by the sun
but I got familiar only with the blue light
as sunny
sky of spring

because i always try to interpret your heart
which will turn to blue
whenever you are hit
by longing
like a painting of Picasso
in blue period

Vindy Putri
Penetrating Patterns

thinning fabric circled as a regular pivot,
like thin strands, life-like
at the center of her life
not the same, different
meaningful only when it’s barbed
penetrating pattern
it’s broken! ah, repeat! barbed,
penetrating pattern
die in the dust

Navida Suryadilaga
embroidering sense,
the verses of romance
missing is a sin,
sins are always beautiful

the taste of an embroidery ribbon,
ruptured eyelid, flowing tears
i was crumpled savoring my sin

Estria Solihatun Nurjannah
you’re too graceful to tangle
too messy to be unraveled
do you think all expressions should be yours?
if only you realize, that our romance is just a bland roll. you cant force me to answer, why your being messy had made me go

Ekohm Abiyasa

along my body, the letters
stagger in the universe
the sky darkens
dashed shades
: so visual

together with the inherent sky
he grow up, walk, run, and fly
pursuing mother and father
where the warm place exist

Gustu Sinduputra
silk house with a dark alley.
i get my self stuck in an endless bond.
waving the boisterous silence
to be able to ask:
are you still at the other side?
waiting for the news: our currency
by and by

Gembel Aceh
the vulnerable
raped by the finger
falsifies the silk gap
fill the corner of the world
if the symmetry is certainly beautiful
thank you for the strong caterpillar
you are too quiet
to be a resident of the earth!
sorry, all act
is the act of finger

Agustina Kusuma Dewi

an asymmetry
matted entanglement
too complicated to unravel off
similar lines toward a vanishing point on the landscape of rainbow
connected and tied in Bacchus wine,
as grace as Gouda cheese
eternal mnemonic in secret: us. infinite.
so, let it be!

Tri Jengky
there is still hope in this anxiety
waiting for a rolling shift
urges chock, full of sweating body
limping me
only dusty gray
i’m afraid of ashes
then i kill
my time

Ivan Zulfan Hakim
fingers climbing, fathom by fathom
feet by feet,
and i’m not sure how many distance spanning. about the story
hope in the distant city,
scattered dream,
creeping the past.
when he crochet the prayer
at dawn
shed on the mat

Fanny Chotimah
Early morning

dislodged teeth
paralyzing memory
waving the handkerchief
dropping coins

Alburhan Ash-Siddiq
“Let me awake tonight to fix the pocket pant, which is torn by time. though I never give you money, let it filled with love and smile from me each time, as a provision for your future.” said my mother as she kissed my forehead. tomorrow morning I will go to school armed with love and smiles from my mother.

Abu Nabil Wibisana
Cloth from Mother’s Memory

/ 1 /

in the beginning of the word. a single fruit in hand, unfinished. suddenly my mother got naked. no screaming, just a pair of anxious eye when i saw how quick have the sins spread over, offspring.

/ 2 /
on the porch, mother weaved the memories. lace and silk scrolls had become a story of the jungle and trees with tendrils made up from lights. i heard it said, “Sin is, boy, snake venom. deadly poison, but not without the antidote.”

Haris Gupon
don’t talk only
let’s do

because the better the poem the more it lies

Ida Fitriyati Yuzmanah
this is us,
who talk to each
other in a dialogue
hi, a…..not my lover
because we love one another
in a bond which is…….not

Syifa Khumairah

i want to anchor
in your dock
but you hide
you and me:
getting rolled in a story
that touch

Dewandaru Ibrahim
perhaps all the tangles
must meet the needle
to be silk

Dhini Aprilio
Me, You, They

we discuss about some viewpoints
bargaining and debating while snorting
we forget about diversity
forget to manage
and receive all sorts.

so how can we embroider a nation?

M alif Marufy

hey, you know what the price is the difference between words in poetry and words in the comments?
“covering the wound,
as thin as drunken,
as thick as persona, and three centimeters of time”

hmm… quite expensive,
especially when it takes four cm actually

Sartika Sari
i keep your body in poetry. history of sorrow and a pile of tears have been sedimented, into ribs, twisting my lungs with silence.
just talk about the city and the streets, held by dozens thighs every night, do not arrange an appointment. almanac in my eyes getting older, keep all the sweat and the beat of your heart. incarnate as blood, frangipani and naenia.
do not make any pilgrimage, Pa.

Niken Kinanti
this eye can kiss immortality
no man chose to open the door of your heart
also have you open the window wider than a bag of flour
no one
gathered for paying the longing
let us enliven meetings
like a frozen face and soul in the cupboard
the light of flickering stars unable to hit my eyes
how lonely you were
hit by a man in love

Atikah Zata Amani
A kite fly to you.
Embrace for you.
For you also a piece of meat in a plate.
Moving fast in a pack.
You were born beautiful.
The world cheered up for you.
Like a caterpillar.
Ready to fly.

Iwan S Adiwira .
a a
e r b a s u r a
m m a m
u u n u
k k e s
a a r e p

Muhammad Badrun
incision envy.
morning suddenly becomes early
when you and i
become a no man
who can see
all you fill in your home my home

Farra Yanuar
You always feel strong, inviting all season into your chest. The sun shines long enough, so is loneliness. The rain immersed your lungs and heart, splitting storm’s wrath. “There would be someone who is willing to tie it back.” You said, looking for the lamp to warm your wound.

outside your body, i am a candlestick,
creeping more.

Melati Suryodarmo
what is it, the leftover of a death

still waiting
under the sun
a lonely without legs and heart
our job is over
don’t forget there is still
a fire

Pramukti Adhi Bhakti

I heard a faint groan
In and out, in and out, drag!
In and out, in and out, beautiful!

Ah shit! What was I thinking?

Dewandaru Ibrahim

weaving strands
messy strands of poetry
making dresses from that
for us to stay glued forever

Yanwi Mudrikah
a line on your eye

: forming a beautiful line
in your sugar town

Didik Siswantono
complexity of love is our theme;
god gives us a song
so we could dance,
the colorful rhythm.

trying to forget everything.

Novia Rika
what else do you want
from my exuviate body
like a hill that was climbed too often

have you ever thrust a needle?
to the cotton fibers
creating a warm blanket
to warm my shabby body

Risno Aj
when every colors greet each other

when you’re blue
doesn’t mean that you and i cannot unite

when you’re red
doesn’t mean that i’m touched causing you to run from me

when my color is brown
doesn’t mean you should be like me

when my color is black
doesn’t mean that i am unable to reconcile you’re being blue, red and brown.

and because we are united, with all sorts of colors,
then, it’s ok
that the others fall in love with us.

Andy Sri Wahyudi
mom, I have a dashing pink fluffy horse. my horse could talk with the devil and angel. he is kind just like oxigent. look mom, he jumps in to my body. once he cries, when my mother sings a song in the middle of the night. He says, he listens to a prayer, so that every child don’t kill each other. look at my pinky horse mom … cool right? like a silence.

Adittian Dika
o, lady
everything has now torn along the trace of our breath
and now, allow yourself
to knit it again

Tan muda
in a rickety shack, accompanied by the breeze
i, is a displaced body
in the border, the death is coming near
peddle on another body

i am part of the waste
i am a decapitated body,
bent, arrested, disabled

i am fragile
my beautiful only in view

I am a fragile body, being wrapped around
fused, into your body

Chosen by Likers and Netizens:
1. Kinanthi Anggraini
2. Navida Suryadilaga
3. Asni Furaida

Poetry of The Week:

Abu Nabil Wibisana
Cloth from Mother’s Memory

/ 1 /

in the beginning of the word. a single fruit in hand, unfinished. suddenly my mother got naked. no screaming, just a pair of anxious eye when i saw how quick have the sins spread over, offspring.

/ 2 /
on the porch, mother weaved the memories. lace and silk scrolls had become a story of the jungle and trees with tendrils made up from lights. i heard it said, “Sin is, boy, snake venom. deadly poison, but not without the antidote.”

Indonesian Poetry Battle on Facebook #4

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