“The Trampled Earth”: A Special Poetry Collection by the Poets of PPIPM-Indonesia, Poetry-Pen IC, Indonesian Writers Satu Pena, and Indonesian Creators in AI Era

/1/

The Trampled Earth

Poem by Leni Marlina

<1>

Beneath their heavy boots,
the earth weeps with every step,
its veins torn open by greed-clad hands,
leaving scars to fester—
a testament to time’s relentless plunder.

Behind their walls of privilege,
maps of power are smeared with stains,
lines carved not with ink,
but with the blood and tears of the nameless.

Yet, we are voices from the roots,
buried deep beneath their arrogance.
We are whispers in the cracks of ruins,
breathing defiance into the void of injustice.

We bear no names,
but we are the flames that rise in silence,
creeping towards dawn
to ignite a fire so fierce,
it reduces tyranny to ash.

<2>

Do they not see?
The rock they deem eternal
will crumble beneath time’s unyielding weight.
The trees they’ve felled
will rise again,
towering over their fleeting thrones.

We are children of a trampled earth,
yet our steps never falter.
With bare hands,
we will rewrite the chronicles of justice,
guarding the world with clarity and truth.

And when our voices echo,
the sky itself will fracture—
raining justice upon a world
long shrouded in deceit.

Bukittinggi, West Sumatra, Indonesia, 2018
————————-
This poem, first written by Leni Marlina in 2018, has been revisited and was digitally published for the first time in 2025.

/2/

Behind the News of Corruption

A Poem by Yusuf Achmad

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

<1>

News after news rolls soullessly,
in the hands of iron thrones that tread blindly.
Chili prices soar, tears flood narrow rooms,
moons revolve, years sow bitterness.
The laborer’s honor bows like withered leaves,
sunk by promises carved from illusions.

The skies tremble with quivering voices,
Is this a narrative, a charade, or a fading scar?
Justice bruised in the corners of time,
equality adrift, hunger turned to stone.
The judge’s gavel halts,
leaving only laments as a long song.

 

<2>

Corruptors, faces as dark as the night,
stride grandly atop hidden cries.
Kabena, Buton, Bangka—shattered histories,
mines drinking blood, carving anguish deep.
Mother Earth torn, her soil whispers,
beneath the gold, a tragedy carves its mark.

People, oh people, what power do we wield?
When this land becomes prey to tyrannical kings.
True heirs, struggling children of the nation,
await justice in broken corridors.
This grand loaf belongs to all souls,
not to those adorning thrones alone.

Surabaya, East Java, Indonesia,
January 12, 2025

—————————–
Yusuf Achmad serves as Principal of SMK SAINTREN Al-Hasan in Surabaya and Chair of the MKKS of Surabaya’s private vocational schools. His poetry collection, “Belanggur di Nyamplungan”, highlights his literary achievements.

/3/

Oh, Corruption

By Paulus Laratmase
[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

<1>

Corruption is a wound upon the nation,
eroding dreams we once cherished.
Promises of justice left at the edge of rhetoric,
the law bowing to those who wield power.

Beneath the light of the independence oath,
they steal with feigned smiles.
From the rights of the weak to future generations,
plundered without shame by frozen greed.

Numbers become mere illusions,
billions and trillions changing names.
Lenient sentences become theatrical stages,
justice fades into tales of old.

<2>

Oh corruption, the nation’s gravest sin,
you bring destruction beyond measure.
Yet we shall not stop,
fighting you until the end of time.

From the ashes of suffering, we will rise,
demanding justice with fervent spirits.
Corruption, heed the cry of conscience,
we will reclaim the rights of this nation!

Papua, Indonesia, 2025

——————–
Paulus Laratmase is a senior journalist, philosophy lecturer, and the executive director of an NGO focused on educating the nation’s children.

/4/

The Shadow Play of Fire

Poem by Ririe Aiko

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

<1>

Upon the towering throne of silence,
shadows sneer with sinister grins,
sipping blood from the whispers of the night,
trampling souls, quiet in their suffering.

Their promises, like morning dew,
enticing but laced with poison,
hidden behind deceitful eyes,
turning dreams to scattered dust,
stealing hope from fragile hands.

They feast, their bellies rumble in arrogance,
while others remain voiceless,
their hunger silenced by despair.
Behind the masks of shadows lies no empathy,
only greed, measuring steps lost to oblivion.

<2>

They weave promises in whispered silence,
yet their hands rob the heart’s purity,
amassing riches atop unheard cries,
crushing the weak without remorse.

They see not the wounded eyes,
nor the shivering children at the edge of the world.
To them, only numbers glitter on empty screens,
their smiles slippery, masked by hollow brilliance.

Their lives are a feast,
on tables laden with the sweat of the powerless,
turning tears into mounds of gold,
sculpting misery into radiant crowns.

<3>

But is there a night that does not surrender to dawn?
Is there a time that stretches forever?
The winds of justice are gathering,
O Shadows,
your reign is nearing its end.

When sunrise floods the darkened skies,
no shadows will remain to linger.
The oppressed will rise, unyielding and steadfast,
erasing every trace of you
from this earth, reborn in boundless hope.

Bandung, Indonesia, December, 2024
—————–
Ririe Aiko is a writer from Bandung, Indonesia, actively contributing to Kompasiana and other online media. She is a member of Satu Pena and has a deep passion for the literary world. A former scriptwriter, Ririe won a writing competition for Indosiar’s TV dramas and is the author of the anthology KKN (Kuliah Kerja Ngonten) published by Elex Media.

/5/

PRANK(O)

Poem by Muslimin

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

The prosperity you sowed,
has shattered into burdens we carry.
The justice you promised,
left us only with tainted legacies.
The welfare you proclaimed,
now tastes of sorrow we endure.
Once, you bought our voices with deceit,
now you sell our worth for nothing.
We regret the ignorance that shackled us,
and rage at the negligence that ensnared us.

We are like grass,
trampled beneath your arrogant stride.
Drought burns us without mercy,
yet our roots hold fast to this motherland.
We give our all to enrich the soil,
though our sweat is drained without end.
And when the rains command their blessings,
we must remain green,
greeting the sun without despair,
living each day unbroken,
guarding each night with resolve.

Lamongan, East Java, Indonesia,
December 2nd, 2024

———
Muslimin, fondly known as Cak Mus, was born in Lamongan, East Java, on May 20, 1969. After graduating from SMAN 2 Lamongan, he studied Indonesian Language at IKIP Negeri Surabaya. A dedicated teacher since 1991, he has taught in several schools and learning centers, including MTs A. Wahid Hasyim Tikung and PKBM Mizan Lamongan. Active in PERGUNU Lamongan and Lembaga Bahtsul Masail MWC NU Tikung, Muslimin is an esteemed voice in his community and a member of Satu Pena.

/6/

The Shadow Play of Fire

Poem by Ririe Aiko

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

<1>
Upon the towering throne of silence,
shadows sneer with sinister grins,
sipping blood from the whispers of the night,
trampling souls, quiet in their suffering.

Their promises, like morning dew,
enticing but laced with poison,
hidden behind deceitful eyes,
turning dreams to scattered dust,
stealing hope from fragile hands.

They feast, their bellies rumble in arrogance,
while others remain voiceless,
their hunger silenced by despair.
Behind the masks of shadows lies no empathy,
only greed, measuring steps lost to oblivion.

<2>
They weave promises in whispered silence,
yet their hands rob the heart’s purity,
amassing riches atop unheard cries,
crushing the weak without remorse.

They see not the wounded eyes,
nor the shivering children at the edge of the world.
To them, only numbers glitter on empty screens,
their smiles slippery, masked by hollow brilliance.

Their lives are a feast,
on tables laden with the sweat of the powerless,
turning tears into mounds of gold,
sculpting misery into radiant crowns.

<3>
But is there a night that does not surrender to dawn?
Is there a time that stretches forever?
The winds of justice are gathering,
O Shadows,
your reign is nearing its end.

When sunrise floods the darkened skies,
no shadows will remain to linger.
The oppressed will rise, unyielding and steadfast,
erasing every trace of you
from this earth, reborn in boundless hope.

Bandung, Indonesia, December 2024
—————–
*Ririe Aiko*is a writer from Bandung, Indonesia, actively contributing to Kompasiana and other online media. She is a member of Satu Pena and has a deep passion for the literary world. A former scriptwriter, Ririe won a writing competition for Indosiar’s TV dramas and is the author of the anthology KKN (Kuliah Kerja Ngonten) published by Elex Media.

/5/

PRANK(O)

Poem by Muslimin

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

 

The prosperity you sowed,
has shattered into burdens we carry.
The justice you promised,
left us only with tainted legacies.
The welfare you proclaimed,
now tastes of sorrow we endure.
Once, you bought our voices with deceit,
now you sell our worth for nothing.
We regret the ignorance that shackled us,
and rage at the negligence that ensnared us.

We are like grass,
trampled beneath your arrogant stride.
Drought burns us without mercy,
yet our roots hold fast to this motherland.
We give our all to enrich the soil,
though our sweat is drained without end.
And when the rains command their blessings,
we must remain green,
greeting the sun without despair,
living each day unbroken,
guarding each night with resolve.

Lamongan, East Java, Indonesia,
December 2nd, 2024

———
Muslimin, fondly known as Cak Mus, was born in Lamongan, East Java, on May 20, 1969. After graduating from SMAN 2 Lamongan, he studied Indonesian Language at IKIP Negeri Surabaya. A dedicated teacher since 1991, he has taught in several schools and learning centers, including MTs A. Wahid Hasyim Tikung and PKBM Mizan Lamongan. Active in PERGUNU Lamongan and Lembaga Bahtsul Masail MWC NU Tikung, Muslimin is an esteemed voice in his community and a member of Satu Pena.

/6/

Law, Oh Law

Poem by Ahkam Jayadi

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

<1>

The nation burns, seared by time’s wrath,
Justice fades, devoured by gold’s glimmer.
In the clutch of greed, the people’s blood is drained,
Trillions vanish—no trace of regret remains.

They revel in grandeur,
Private jets, palaces born of sin.
Sweet smiles shrouded in deceit,
Behind majestic curtains, law is bartered away.

In courtrooms,
where judgment should reign,
“Keepers of truth” betray their oath.
“Shadows of justice” trace darkened paths,
“Bearers of burden” crushed by worldly desires.
Deals whispered in clandestine fog,
Light sentences bloom from secret bribes,
Justice sold, her sanctity betrayed.

<2>

“Guardians of truth,” once steadfast and bold,
Succumb to the lure of glittering gold.
“Carriers of hope,” entrusted with dreams,
Join the ranks of plunderers, shattering schemes.

Through corridors of law to justice’s throne,
A discordant symphony plays, tones overthrown.
Justice silenced, its presence erased,
Replaced by coins and demonic embrace.

The people, weary, their eyes dim with despair,
See justice reduced to whispers in night’s cold air.
While the corrupt stride free, mocking their pain,
Feasting on anguish, their ill-gotten gain.

Oh, law, why do you crumble to dust?
Why trade your purity for fleeting lust?
When conscience is lost to greed’s cruel play,
Law becomes a stage for tragedy’s display.

<3>

In this land veiled by crimson smoke,
The grand thieves are kings; the small, reviled.
This is the face of justice sold,
Where money dictates, and truth lies cold.

Awaken, oh drowsy enforcers of right!
The people await your blaze of light.
For if law remains a market’s trade,
This nation’s demise is fatefully laid.
Time tolls its final, resounding chime—
Will you act, or succumb to the crime?

Makassar, Indonesia, 2025
——————
Ahkam Jayadi is a law scholar from Makassar, a dedicated member of Satu Pena Makassar.

/7/

Shall I Migrate

Poem by Zaleka HG

[Community: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena; Indonesian Creator in AI Era; FSM]

Indonesian-English Translator:
Leni Marlina

Corruption spreads its roots,
like moss upon the walls of time.
Justice proclaims its might,
yet falters, leaving no deterrence behind.

The courts rise, grand and towering,
pillars pretending an eternal truth.
In the shadows of “honor” rewards grow—
their abundance, void of blessings.
Today, I saw a once-revered face,
shackled by chains of disgrace,
and my soul drowned in sorrow.

When the destitute are condemned for crumbs,
their hunger louder than laws could bear,
how do the “honorable” fall
to the seduction of insatiable greed?
I bow my head in shame,
as though the compass of the world has broken.

The law,
a fragile construct of human desires,
tweaked and rewritten through fleeting times,
sharp as daggers to the poor,
yet blunt toward the arrogant and powerful.
It pierces the helpless,
judges without compassion,
punishes without a soul.

Yet, Your Law, O Allah,
is an everlasting sanctuary—
a haven for the weak,
a beacon for every era,
a sword to cleave the roots of oppression.

My heart quakes—
I stumble upon Your Word in Al-Maidah:
“Whoever does not judge by what Allah has revealed,
they are the oppressors.”
(Surah Al-Maidah: 45)

And in another verse:
“Whoever does not judge by what Allah has revealed,
they are the transgressors.”
(Surah Al-Maidah: 47)

I am shaken,
like shattered glass beneath a storm.
Astagfirullah…
Forgive me, O Allah,
for I have been among the oppressors,
a wanderer on paths of transgression.

Now I stand at a crossroads,
my heart trembling with doubt—
Shall I migrate?
Leave behind the labyrinth of lies,
walk the straight path of Your justice,
a road untainted, unwavering.

Guide me, O Allah,
to steps graced by Your approval,
so that my migration becomes the answer,
a flame of light in the darkness of this age.

Padang, West Sumatra, Indonesia,
November, 2024

—————-
Zaleka HG is a member of Satu Pena Sumbar and FSM (Forum Siti Manggopoh). She is also a legal consultant and manages the Hajj & Umrah services of PT Farhana Mulia Wisata.

/8/

The Sky That Shattered

A Poem by Leni Marlina

[Community of Poetry for Society’s Inspiration: PPIPM – Indonesia; Poetry-Pen IC; Indonesian Writer Satu Pena Sumbar; Indonesia Creator in AI Era; ACC SHILA, FSM]

<1>

Beneath the sky that split in grief,
clouds no longer cradle the rain,
but fragments of breaths
drawn from those who built towers of sin
upon the ruins of scars.

The earth murmurs softly,
“Where have the guardians gone?”
For every step we etch into its flesh
becomes a silent verse
on the tombstone of hope.

<2>

Gaze upon those looming structures—
not monuments to tomorrow,
but stakes that pierce the earth’s soul,
draining its essence drop by drop,
until this soil wears a face of despair.

Far across the seas,
waves no longer sing lullabies;
they roar with anguish,
calling forth the forgotten names
buried beneath promises turned to chains.
Bloodstains dried to dust,
sweat stolen in silence,
lie waiting—silent wells ready to burst.

<3>

We are the whispers
you’ve silenced for too long.
We are shadows
you cannot extinguish.
We are the poison in the roots,
awaiting the moment
to wither the trunk of your arrogance.

And when the fractured sky unites again,
we shall demand nothing more
than justice—
justice hung high beyond reach,
hidden in heavens you claimed as your own.
But you forget—
the sky belongs to us as well.
We will not falter,
we will not yield,
until that justice falls,
into the hands of all.

Bukittinggi, West Sumatra,
Indonesia, 2018
——————–
This poem, originally penned by Leni Marlina in 2018, has undergone revisions before its first digital publication in 2025.

Leni Marlina is a devoted member of the Indonesian Writers Association (SATU PENA) in the Sumatra Barat chapter since its establishment in 2022. She is also a respected figure in the International Poets and Writers Community (ACC) in Shanghai, serving as Indonesia’s Poetry Ambassador for the ACC Shanghai Huifeng International Literary Association. Additionally, she has collaborated with the Victoria Writers Association in Australia.
Since 2006, she has been a lecturer in the English Language and Literature Department at Universitas Negeri Padang.

Leni is actively involved in several communities that focus on literature, language, literacy, and social advocacy, including:
1. World Children’s Literature Community (WCLC): https://shorturl.at/acFv1
2. Poetry-Pen International Community
3. PPIPM (Pondok Puisi Inspirasi Masyarakat), the Poetry Community of Indonesian Society’s Inspirations: https://shorturl.at/2eTSB; https://shorturl.at/tHjRI
4. Starcom Indonesia Community (Starmoonsun Edupreneur Community Indonesia):
https://rb.gy/5c1b02
5. Linguistic Talk Community
6. Literature Talk Community
7. Translation Practice Community
8. English Languange Learning, Literacy, Literary Community (EL4C)