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Best Poems Written by Susantha Herath

Below are the all-time best Susantha Herath poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

Death of a Child

A child was walking along the road,
the road from  his home to the  school.
He was walking to the school
early in the morning,
he has to walk six miles , to learn maths
and science and arts
and English and geometry and,
and the life, a life he never had,
in down pouring rains,
or under the burning sun .
He has to walk six miles
and he was twelve years old,
twelve years only.
He has to walk 
in a road through a jungle with huge trees ,
with wild beasts and snakes ,
tigers and vipers and elephants ,
elephants who had lost their natural habitat
for the development,
The development of whom the boy did not know,
Not the father of the child,
nor the  mother of  the child.
And the animals  were hungry and angry and wild,
the boy was also hungry,
he had no breakfast,
as nothing to eat in his home
And he had piece of bread last night,
with a piece of onion.
He was walking and dreaming ,
dreaming about not a luxurious life,
but about if he would have lunch today.
Then , they   met ,
the raging wild elephant,
and the hungry child, 
a child who was dreaming about 
a lunch he had never before
nor he will ever.
Then the  time stopped for a moment,
The earth stop rotating,
Then everything back to normal
Except the grieving life 
of a poor hungry child.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

The Chalk Beneath My Fingernails

-The Chalk Beneath My Fingernails-

I walk a path where roads dissolve,
Where rivers rise and hopes revolve,
Through jungle mist and dusty lanes,
With every step, I carry names—
Of children born with hollow bowls,
But eyes that shine like tempered coals.

The schoolhouse leans against the sky,
Its roof a patchwork, spirits high.
The walls may crack, the floor may creak,
But voices echo when they speak.
They spell their dreams in broken chalk,
Each word a promise we dare to talk.

My salary is thin as thread,
But rich the stories in my head.
No polished floors, no polished shoes,
But lessons written in muddy hues.
Each tear I wipe, each hand I hold,
Is worth more than a crown of gold.

At times, I ache—I won’t pretend,
To see no doctor when fevers bend,
To watch a child with fevered skin
Miss class again, then drop within.
But still I come, still I stay,
Planting stars along their way.

Their questions come like summer rain,
Pure, untrained, and free of shame.
"Why do the rich live high above?"
"Can books be filled with real love?"
And I—just one with weary frame—
Hold back my tears, and praise their flame.

No cameras roll, no praises sung,
No headlines catch what's just begun.
But every word they learn to write
Pushes back a wall of night.
And if I vanish without trace,
I leave a fire in this place.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

Stop This war

Stop the War 
Stop the war — we cry to every sky,
Where smoke replaces stars and children die.
From Gaza’s grief to Iran’s silent screams,
The world is choking on abandoned dreams.

O Israel, lay down your wrathful hand,
No justice blooms in blood-soaked sand.
No future rises on a shattered wall,
When vengeance is the only call.

And you, O powers that in Iran stand tall,
Do not let pride become your fatal fall.
The missiles rise, but peace lies torn apart—
What victory comes from a broken heart?

Two ancient lands with holy soil beneath,
Now cradle only sorrow, loss, and grief.
Who profits when the innocent are slain?
What god is served by suffering and pain?

The bombs don’t care whose name you speak,
They only burn the strong and kill the weak.
Enough of war, of graves, of endless night—
We plead for ceasefire, not just for might.

Let every mother’s tears be not in vain.
Let every soul rise up against the pain.
Stop the war, before we all are lost—
There’s no true triumph worth this cost.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

To the Cat Who Ran Away

To the Cat Who Ran Away

You left so quietly one day,
We didn’t hear your little feet.
You slipped away and gone ,
While we were all busy with work.

You were never meant to stay in,
You loved to chase and roam.
But now the house feels strange and sad,
Without you here at home.

We call your name, we check the yard,
We leave out food and wait.
We hope you're safe and warm somewhere,
And not too far or late.

If one day you come back to us,
No need to ask or cry—
Your bed is here, your bowl is full,
We’ll greet you with a sigh.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

Weight of the Lonliness

I sit alone, the room is still,
No laughs, no joy at all .
The clock ticks loud, the night feels long,
I hum a tune, a wordless song.

I walk outside, the streets are bare,
The stars above don’t seem to care.
I wave at shadows, talk to air,
But no one’s here, and no one’s there.

The phone is quiet, the lights are dim,
My world feels cold, my hopes feel thin.
I miss a smile, a gentle touch,
A little love, a little smile.

But still I wait, through silent days,
For someone’s voice to light my way.
Until that time, I’ll breathe and cope,
And hold on tight to dreams and hope.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

A Night of '89

A Night of '89

Footsteps at midnight
the knock no one dared answer.
Dogs howled in silence.

Charred Bodies on the road,
eyes still open to the sky.
The crows never ask.

Posters on the wall
by morning, the faces fade.
Smoke curls from tire pyres .

Mother lights a lamp.
Her son's shoes still by the door.
She dares not whisper.

Gunfire in the dusk,
then a scream the wind carries
who will name the dead?

Red water flows past
the paddy field in full bloom.
No harvest this year.

Schoolbag on the step—
its owner taken at dawn.
Chalk dust on the floor.

Whispers fill the lane.
Even silence has been killed.
Eyes blink like shutters.

A list with red marks—
young names, crossed out by the state.
The clerk still records.

Cicadas still sing
though men hang from tamarind trees.
Life pretends to go.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

Hopes and Dreams

Beneath tin roofs and between rusted walls,
their dreams hang like torn cloth
patched, and faded , in the wind.
A cracked bowl, a child’s laugh
hope drawn in a poster  on broken walls.

Details | Susantha Herath Poem

No More War

No More War

Marching boots echo
no birds sing in the  
shattered valleys.

Children’s toys buried
beneath the smoking ruins
where  are they ?

Flags wave in triumph,
but mothers get folded notes
instead of sons.

Steel birds above us
drop fire with no memory
earth weeps sorrowfully

A soldier's last breath
drifts with dust into the wind
nameless in the dark.
.
No victor remains
when the fields are filled with blood
only ghosts rejoice.

Old men talk of pride,
But young men vanish into mud
history forgets and forget

Rain falls on helmets,
drowning cries beneath the mud
the war will never end.

In a child’s drawing,
the sun bleeds behind barbed wire
innocence erased forever

The earth spins once more —
blossoms rise from ash and bone,
whispering, “No more.”