Joko Rabsodi's poems

Several Stories on a Journey

Thursday morning, the four of them sat together and became sleepy benches in a nest of dew leaves while their mother fed rice mixed with corn.

Microphone with tartil sounds
visiting the shade of the yard
sparrows creeping among the damp earth and trees
bougenville to the north of the window crowds
the brightness of those who sit above the density
capital

Their plan is to make the morning
as beautiful as the full moon
to construct a fragrant garden
with adumbara that blooms three thousand years ago

In the far east the sound of the books of the fuqaha
squeezes the ears into the past decades
the trade winds come to blow the masholla
the nets are broken on one side
after the children greet with the ball plastic

Before breakfast
regional newspapers reported anxiety
earlier at dawn an area could not see the rice fields
rolls of blood held the remains of a father's scream
his eldest son left without finding a direction

He also revealed the story
middle-aged mother strangled her own neck
the burden on her head had grown the smell of heaven
which he said; I want to warm my body
____with death

What more can I say on this day
interesting memories will disappear along the way
the shadow of death and the morning bustle with voices
is God's way of making his own body happy

Madura, January 2024

Also read: Nuryana Asmaudi SA's poems

The Genocide of Butterflies on Melva's Body

//
Where the butterfly plays again, melva
grey, full of spots, small like your favorite color

Five years ago he bathed your face in a smile filled with flowers

gather your cheerfulness under the kapok tree

You want to invite him to your engagement

enliven the ring that will grow on your ring finger

--if that happens, won't I feel lost

it's hard to forget how your body embraces it

a breath of mine will fall

but not near your eyes

///

I love drawing when morning comes

singing standing next to reed flowers

touch the sun screen

falling at the end of the roof of the house

I deliberately didn't stick your body in the picture book

I'm reluctant to see the butterfly on the side of your shirt

I wish heavy rain would cover the time

to freely sketch the shadow of your lips

on my body

yourself!

Madura, January 2024

Also read: Sunardi KS's poems

January Rain Omelet

The rain is here to bring the delicious earth of January

low temperature and air humidity

frogs attract each other nadhom love

The farmer's party starts from Caruban Air

Plant the seeds of hope in the paddy fields and fields

There's something I can remember every time he comes

footprints left by farmers in the sun

clones of bulls line the rainy road

then he waited for the door of sustenance while bowing his hands

Prayer lines have been burned

a pool of tears dying on both arms

Black prayer mat for holding desires and realities

but this month God said that the rain would bring a smell

land that is no longer fresh

then stray to the islands that don't need it

Madura, January 2024

Also read: Nafi'ah al-Ma'rab's poems

Atmosphere of Reading Cafe Loka

-royyan julian

In the cafe, the book was opened briefly and read the first paragraph

a piece of Harun Yahya's wrath

refers to sex not from apes

Grave death on Madura earth

tahlil chanting the zanji on a high pole

Shot of coffee has not been poured

the conversation started naked women

on the face of the sun there is no more pornography

Reasons to love darwin

just ears

heart his chest

for yahya

Madura, January 2024