“Mother, the Root That Penetrates Stone”: Selected Poetry Colection (PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writers of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creators of AI Era)
Illustration "Mother, the Root That Penetrates Stone": Selected Poetry Colection (PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writers of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creators of AI Era). Image Source: Starcom Indonesia's Artworks (Assisted by AI).
/1/
Mother, the Root That Penetrates Stone
By Leni Marlina
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era, FSM, ACC SHILA]
Mother,
you are a prayer disguised as roots,
gently entwining silent stones,
seeping into the cracks of time,
creating life from emptiness.
Beneath the dark earth, you write verses
with letters of dew,
planting meaning in every grain of sand,
softening the hardened land
with tenderness sharper
than the edge of a sword.
You do not battle stone with a hammer,
nor challenge it with the roar of thunder.
Yet, your gentleness is an endless ocean,
eroding cliffs with centuries of patience.
Mother,
in your eyes, I see an unyielding forest,
branches of prayers reaching for the sky,
roots of love piercing the earth’s core,
and leaves of longing that remain green
even in the harshest winter of life.
You embed lessons in the pores of stone:
that true strength
is a soft whisper that resonates
deeper than a storm’s cry.
In your smile,
I read the atlas of courage.
Your hands are rivers that never cease to flow,
guiding us to the ocean of dreams,
even as your own vessel
sinks into exhaustion.
You are the unseen root
that upholds the mountain of life,
you are the breath of the earth,
silent,
yet keeping the world in motion.
Mother,
if this world is a cold, unyielding stone,
then you are its warmth,
and before we seek God’s mercy,
we seek yours.
Melbourne, Australia, 2012.
—————–
Leni Marlina is an active member of Satu Pena Sumbar and the founder and chairperson of PPIPM-Indonesia (Pondok Puisi Inspirasi Pemikiran Masyarakat). She is also a member of the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association and the Poetry-Pen International Community. Recognized as Indonesia’s Poetry Ambassador for the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association, she is also a member of FSM (Forum Siti Manggopoh). Since 2006, she has been a lecturer at the Department of English, Faculty of Languages and Arts, Universitas Negeri Padang, Indonesia.
/2/
MAMA
(A Tribute for Mother’s Day)
By Anto Narasoma
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
Mama,
your weary face radiates
along the journey of your children’s world.
When you unravel
all your anxieties
at the edge of your bedside,
prayers folded beneath your clothes
shine from dawn to dusk.
I struggle to understand your essence
when a dozen children
were left to you
after Papa embarked on his final journey.
The only wealth on your shoulders
was determination and tears—
tears that often fell
as you questioned your own reflection
through the downpour of sorrow.
Mama,
when I gaze at your face,
between smiles at sunset,
you are still lost
in the scent of the marketplace,
feeding the open mouths of your children.
Oh, Mama,
what kind of work must you do
to decode the struggles
of your children’s journey between life and death?
Palembang, Indonesia,
December 23rd, 2024.
——————
Anto Narasoma is a national poet, senior journalist, and senior mentor of the PPIPM community. He is also a member of the Poetry-Pen International Community. In 2022, he received the International Literature Award from the International Literature Association in Spain.
/3/
A Resilient Woman, Guardian of Time
By Ramli Djafar
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
This is not an epic
told by a fireside at night.
Nor is it a battle of swords
against oppressors—
this is a silent war,
a war against oneself,
against exhaustion and time
for the family
she surrenders herself to without limits.
When dawn paints the sky,
she walks softly into the kitchen,
awakening the morning
with the scent of love.
Her hands, an altar of devotion,
prepare breakfast,
pack lunches for her children,
and fold hidden prayers
into their napkins.
Then she leaves,
facing a world that never pauses.
She works,
not just to earn a living
but to sustain the dreams
that hang by the window of her humble home.
As dusk folds the light away,
she returns—
not to rest,
but to begin again.
The kitchen glows,
dinner is served.
Then, laundry becomes the night’s melody,
flowing through cold water,
accompanying a weariness that refuses to fade.
Night embraces her body,
but never her heart.
She shares the dinner table,
exchanges stories,
and unravels the hours left
to fold the day’s clean clothes.
At midnight, when darkness thickens,
she finally lies down,
but only for a while.
Because dawn will call her again—
with the same duties,
with the same unwavering love.
This is she:
a resilient woman, a guardian of time,
weaving dreams from shards of exhaustion,
creating a paradise from the smallest things,
passing on courage to the world,
without ever seeking recognition.
Padang, Indonesia,
December 2024.
——————
Ramli Djafar is a member of PPIPM and Satu Pena and an active participant in the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association and the Poetry-Pen International Community.
/4/
A Woman’s Longing for the Rainbow
By Dewi Farah
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
<1>
When that woman gazes at the sky,
reading poems of mist and starlight,
then bows toward the earth—
she feels the breath of dust
and shattered dreams.
For her, morning is not just light
but a line striving to heal
the wounds inflicted by dusk’s fangs.
Time, like a river without an estuary,
flows toward her with silent footsteps.
Sidewalks bear witness to her solitude,
and the streets,
a labyrinth of mirages
she has never deciphered.
She closes her eyes,
embracing a darkness more honest
than the light that betrays.
<2>
That woman longs for the rainbow.
A longing that bleeds,
scraping sorrow from fields of pain.
Where is her paradise?
Perhaps in the embrace of the sky she awaits,
eyes closed too long,
as the trumpets of reckoning
sound only in her heart.
Where is Gabriel’s letter?
Its verses send shivers through the soul,
etching fear onto eternity’s walls.
Her eyes grow weary,
like leaves whispering to the wind
about lost love.
As the universe trembles around her,
girls draped in violet scarves dance through time,
fighting the shadows
that never cease their chase.
Madura, East Java, Indonesia,
September 28th, 2016
———————–
Dewi Farah is a teacher of Language and Literature at Al Amien Prenduan Islamic Boarding School in Madura. She is also the founder and head of PAUD Ar Rahmah Nurul Hidayah and an active leader in educational organizations.
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The Warrior of the Heart
By Yusuf Achmad
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
<1>
I once called you the coffee of my life—
the morning aroma that awakens
yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
But you are more than that:
you are the bitterness I accept,
the sweetness I keep in memories.
Within you,
poetry flows,
telling tales of longing-filled life.
You do not know deceit,
there is no space for harsh words.
Never “no,”
not even “later” do you wish to say.
Your steps are certainty,
your actions are devotion.
<2>
You climb the steep days,
sacrificing thoughts,
opening your hands for family,
for grandchildren who turn into dreams.
Not just for me,
but for your little universe,
you never tire of loving.
At times, you appear stern,
“Don’t,” you say, as a firm wall.
But behind your strong words,
your love stands tall,
like a great tree sheltering
the fragile earth beneath.
<3>
You are not a rose that captivates the eyes,
but your fragrance is eternal.
Your tenderness is unspoken,
your love knows no limits of age
or time that wears the body down.
You are a hero who needs no medals,
a warrior who silently builds the world.
Even as your hair
no longer shines like the young twilight,
your spirit remains bright,
breathing life into my veins of love.
Every step you take is poetry,
every smile of yours is a prayer,
every embrace is a small paradise
I can never forget.
You, my wife,
are the wings of my life.
Without you, I am but a bird
flying low,
seeking direction in silence.
Surabaya, Indonesia,
December 20th, 2024
—————————————
Yusuf Achmad is currently the Head of SMK SAINTREN Al-Hasan Surabaya and the Chairman of the Association of Private Vocational High Schools in Surabaya. He is also known for his poetry collection, “Belanggur di Nyamplungan.”
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Do Not Regret My Departure
By Mitha Pisano
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
Do not weep over my grave,
when my name is buried with the whispers of time.
Let me become the shadow of leaves,
whispering gently in the breath of the wind,
greeting the world in silence.
Do not regret the words left unsaid,
for my silence is the moon’s quiet melody.
I loved you like the sea kisses the reef—
firmly, persistently, tirelessly,
even if it must break into grains of waves.
When you stand at the edge of my resting place,
feel the wind brushing your face.
There,
I leave behind prayers that cleanse the night,
accompanying your steps in the darkness,
so that your joy remains intact
in every pulse of time.
Do not mourn the moments that have passed,
for I lived like a falling leaf:
descending without wounds,
embracing the earth with gratitude.
Your name remains the light of my soul,
where all my hopes take root.
If one day I am gone, let me leave
as gently as a falling star.
Without tears,
without regrets.
For true love does not end in silence.
It lives, eternal,
within memories.
Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, Indonesia,
December 20th, 2024
—————————
Mitha Pisano is a member of Satu Pena Jakarta, born in West Sumatra and residing in Jakarta.
/7/
Mother’s Longing for the Lion of Parliament
By Zaleka HG
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
<1>
Tonight, my mother wakes in silence,
like the twilight that refuses to set.
“In the past, I was like roots binding the earth,
guarding the grand heirlooms of our ancestors,
vast rice fields, endless green seas,
and tall coconut trees,
bearing heavy fruit, touching the sky with pride.”
But now…
That land has become mere fragments of memory,
those rice fields evaporated, replaced by concrete splitting the earth,
those coconut trees collapsed in silence,
leaving nothing but highways cutting through the soil.
<2>
The oil palm plantations, once treasures,
are now set to be replaced by factories devouring life.
The scholars call it a “strategic project.”
Strategic for whom, Mother?
For pockets growing heavier?
Or for hearts growing emptier?
Mother longs for something…
Who do you long for, Mother?
For Siti Manggopoh, who burned like fire,
fighting against the invaders who came like storms,
sweeping this land with blood and tears?
<3>
Mother longs for the lion in parliament,
whose voice echoes, piercing the silence of the world,
breaking the frozen injustice at the heart of the nation,
like thunder that dares to challenge the sky.
Mother…
Suddenly, that voice falls silent.
I move closer, listening to the deep hush.
Mother…
My mother, now gone,
drifting with the wind,
an unspoken longing,
fading into the horizon.
Mother…
longing for the lion of parliament,
among the ruins of a world that stays mute.
Padang, West Sumatra Indonesia, 2024
—————————————
Zaleka HG is a member of FSM (Forum Siti Manggopoh) and a legal consultant. He also manages the Hajj & Umrah services of PT Farhana Mulia Wisata.
/8/
The Footprints of Time in a Mother’s Love
By Hasbollah Tousta
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era]
<1>
That twilight…
the gentle wind sang a ballad of peace,
caressing the faces of travelers
exploring the panorama
of a beautiful land called Saparua.
On a small, aging veranda,
emotion stretches like a canvas of time:
sadness and joy blend,
memories painting past shadows.
There, you, my mother, cradle me in prayer,
pouring dreams,
filling the air with the freedom I yearned for.
<2>
I weave the memories of my life
like a mosaic spread wide,
the footprints of time coming and going,
flowing without bargaining.
The corridors of journey unfold,
and I find myself trapped in the portrait of my own life,
especially the moments with my mother—
growing in her embrace,
through joys and sorrows
under the boundless warmth of her love.
Mother…
you are the sun in my life,
your light burns away fatigue
without asking for anything in return.
You are the warmth of a blanket,
a shelter where I find peace.
On your fading yet glowing face,
there is a grace I always pray for.
<3>
I recall my childhood…
When mother guided me through
the hardships of life.
On your head,
a mountain of burdens;
on your back,
tales of pain;
in your heart, an ocean of prayers;
on your smile, an oasis of resilience.
Mother…
you are not just a mother,
you are a teacher,
the guardian of morals in my soul.
Thank you, mother…
your prayers I still seek,
your blessings I still await.
For I know,
without you,
I could never reach the grace of the Divine.
Kebun Cengkeh, Ambon, Indonesia, December 2024
—————————————
Hasbollah Tousta is the leader of the Sombar Negeri Maluku Foundation.
/9/
I Am a Woman
By Mutiara Rimba
[PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry Pen IC, Indonesian Writer of Satu Pena, Indonesian Creator of AI Era, FSM]
Am I a woman—
whose existence is questioned
in dark spaces,
walking without leaving footprints,
as if my meaning was never recorded?
Am I a woman
whose worth is discarded,
like a cucumber cast aside from the scales?
Why?
Didn’t you exist
because of a woman’s breath?
In our embrace,
you once saw a rainbow,
beautiful and grand.
But now, where have you placed
the name Siti Manggopoh?
What about Cut Nyak Dien
and Kartini, whom you glorify in history?
Or Nusaibah binti Kaab,
whom you have erased from the tale?
Do not be a hypocrite.
If you are weak,
do not crush us until we shatter.
You grew from the milk we fed you,
you were born from a womb that never tired.
If you still long for a future,
realize this: we are your beginning and your end.
Years pass,
the world evolves,
yet I remain—
a name you cannot erase.
I am a woman
whom you will recognize,
not as a shadow,
but as a light.
Payakumbuh,
West Sumatra, Indonesia
December 2nd, 2024
————————————–
Mutiara Rimba is the recipient of the 16th Sumbar Talenta Indonesia Best Poetry Competition Award in 2024. She is currently a university student in Sumatra and a member of IBMI (Ikatan Bikers Minang Indonesia) and FSM (Forum Siti Manggopoh).
