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Best Sri Lankan Poems

Below are the all-time best Sri Lankan poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of sri lankan poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Sri Lankan poems, articles about Sri Lankan poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Sri Lankan poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

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Poems are below...

New Sri Lankan Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Sri Lankan poems are below this new poems list.

My Sri Lankan sweet pea by Adeite, Adeleke

View all new Sri Lankan Poems

The Best Sri Lankan Poems

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My love for Cystal

Do you think love is real?
I do not know how funny I now feel

For a girl I have never seen… silent still,
Oh, I think I am climbing the highest hill

I used to hate love like hell
I think it’s a cruel colorful cell.

But how on earth did I fell into this well
…With a Sri Lankan sweet pea? I can’t tell.

We all need someone to hold tight
all day and through the darkest nights...

But I never wanted to fall in love … is it right?
I cannot escape this looming little light.

Love has given me the flu… 
My heart hurts, I have got feeling so true.

I sweet stories seduces me with a clue...
Yet I wish this is not true.

Love like flowers may fade at night...
Yet my love will be your stars by moonlight. 

The stars may fade at the sight of daylight
But my heart will be with you both day and night.

Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

My Sri Lankan sweet pea

It’s now crystal clear… I need not be told
I am falling for a Sri Lankan sweet pea. I can’t hold
My feelings… she’s a darling dame, a beauty to behold
She’s got a guy, but to me she’s more than gains and gold

How I wish I could live forever in her singing sky,
Her rhymes and rhapsodies ring… giving me wings to fly
I have promised my self that I will not love for now… it turned a lie
My heart is hot for a buddy I have not seen… I need an eagle’s eye

I have never seen, held or used a Sri Lankan rupee
But I am dying for this colorful… cute Asian sweet pea
I’m caged in thy colorful cell oh Crystal… you’ve got the key
Give me thy love, life and all; please do this to set me free

Copyright © Adeleke Adeite | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.


What is the third world war?-
"I don't know about the third world war but the fourth,
To fight the fourth,there is no an Earth"
Replied,Albert Einstein,a leraned of worth

The world is ready and armed with bombs
Saying no to all the lives in wombs

"Like cures like"-
The Aborigines of the Australian
The Onkays of the Andaman
The Gond and Koitur of the Indian
The Veddha genes of the Sri Lankan- 
Oh,the tribes of ancient,
Come,for God's sake,in the name of God,come,come!

Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The death of dreams

I sit and talk with men, women and children
but my mind, is always in a far off place.
I once drank black tea under Orion's Belt 
with Nubian's, slowly sailing on a felucca
down the river Nile,
though my feet yearned for well trodden summer
paths of the Pennines in the English countryside.

I sit with men and they talk about their football team
that hasn't won a championship in decades,
their cars that they clean every Saturday morning, 
their wives who are 50 pounds heavier,
fishing in the Gulf of Mexico,
hunting deer in the Fall,
their miserable jobs, 
their idiot bosses, 
the price of gas, 
the price of beer,
these men were once determined and optimistic 
about their futures and how they were going
to change the world,
now, they shave once week, have paunch bellies 
and have a frustrated idealism. 
I sit and listen, make grunting sounds and 
agreeable noises,
while thinking of a leisurely saunter I once had
thru a tulip market in Amsterdam,
as I gazed upon a myriad of colors, reds, oranges,
yellows, greens, whites and pinks, as my
mind recalled a double rainbow I stood under
somewhere in southern Ireland. 

I sit with women and they talk about their
lazy and bad tempered husbands,
their daily routine and servitude to their children,
their friends who are hypocrites and bitches,
their favorite reality T.V. show,
a movie star that makes them fantasize,
what groceries they have just bought,
what needs fixing around the house,
how their children are the best a mother
could ever hope for,
that their husbands are always tired,
or watching the game or drinking beer
with their friends in the back yard,
and how much cleaning they do,
and how they dread seeing a grey hair,
with glistening eyes they fondly recall old
love letters fading from their hearts,
and voices quiver of remembered carefree
days, before children and wedded bliss.  
I sit and listen, make consoling and agreeable noises,
while thinking of a romantic walk I once had 
beside the River Seine in Paris, carrying a glass
of Beaujolais with a Sri Lankan beauty, 
who had black hair growing on her back.

I sit and talk with the children of these men
and women, and their simplicity and imagination
fills my heart with joy.
They tell me they want to be astronauts, firefighters,
nurses, doctors, police officers and soldiers,
but some say they want to be like their 
mommy and daddy......and I cry.

Copyright © Chris Peers | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Leaders are born

A fox really wanted to poo,
yet it was not in a national zoo.

He looked around for a washroom,
but he sat on something like a mushroom.

The sprout quickly shot him up,
and he landed down like a frightened cop.

He crept slowly toward the brat
that shot him up like a sprat.

For his wonder,
there was no thunder. 

A sprout stood with only two petals;
He hotly clattered his teeth like two metals. 

Then high and low, he declared,
“a growing tree can promptly be said
simply by its two petals”. 

(The above dramatic narrative is based on a Sri Lankan proverb.)

Copyright © Newton Ranaweera | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ICC 20

Finishing the game,
Starting happiness
ICC 20 overs-
Winning the purpose of game,
Putting the hands of might on the shoulders of fame
Twenty million Sri Lankans hands played,
Twenty million Sri Lankans hands prayed,
To bring victory to all the Seven billion people
On this planet
Up and down,
Right and left,
In all the directions in air,
Fled the ball like a jet
In tired and in pain the Ball, hitting it's head on the bat 
Every bit of soil of Dhaka kissed the ball,
Rolled all over it's chest,in proud
Dhaka in delight and in full of light
As the moon and stars came close to the Earth,
To witness the game
Sun found a hide out fearing the mighty Earth!
Small and beautiful, Sri Lankan Island,
But,very big it's heart,
Give me time,enough time
To portion the victory,
To every man,every woman,every boy and every girl on the Earth
Look at your right shoulder,the right foot,
Look at your left shoulder,the left foot
Of the champion,SANGAKKARA!
Hats off,Sri Lanka,

Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sri Lankan Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Mother of All Political Poetry, Yucatec Maya and Dr Anil Sook Deo

Staking Claims: For Yucatec Maya & Native Peoples

The stones of the desert cry with me
They are brothers and sisters, but no bloody kin
New hearts see just cold rocks … no warmth or charity …
Might you see how we worship gods in them?

The gods themselves are dead, buried in hopeless holes
They died when we could not stop the excesses of each Columbus
Who brought a brutal hunger for gold and souls
Then bone and marrow fell within Columbus’ compass

The trees and tree stumps of the Yucatan
Hold deep scars and memories in their bosoms
The limestone cries quietly for the sons of Chillam Balam
Their tears yielding tomorrow’s blossoms

For even grasses, herbs, insects … know
That they too will be sucked, one after another
Away from the withering, wrinkled body of our Mother
Through a gaping hole in the atmosphere

All earth cries with the sun and stone worshippers
The blackened peasant clasps his callused hands
With those last calories from a breakfast of peppers
Unaware that his gods died hopelessly condemned

The desert explodes into those oases
Where infatuated faith still yields cool, delicious flesh
And forgiving flowers among the spikes in the cactus:
The desert and stones are gentler than Columbus 
©Dr. A. S. Deo, 500 Years after Columbus, circa 1996.

(Written in the 1990s. Blood and tears are part of the story, not only for Native Peoples like the Maya of the Yucatan, but for my wife and daughters, too. A Sri Lankan professor allied with my Promoter/Chairman of my doctoral committee, objected to my politics outside of the classroom. They used the clout of the legal department at my campus, The Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, to shut me up and deny my degree. They failed, thanks to my “cold stone gods” and Jesus. I defended my thesis, successfully, on 1 May 1995 and was back working in my native South Africa in June 1995! Soon I was hired by the Department of Foreign Affairs in Pretoria, when Nelson Mandela was President. He retired in 1998. Sadly, little changed in the then DFA at the Union Buildings, and poor of South Africa … and across the globe, continue to get false hope & promises from Liberals, Conservatives, Blacks & Whites. Jesus alone will speak truth to you, about EVERYTHING. Check a Bible near you, start with John's Book)

Copyright © Anil Deo | Year Posted 2017