Archive for the ‘Puisi’ Category

kota kota menggersang. hari hari jahat. hantu
srigala betina bangkit dari sela reruntuhan bangunan.

Drawing: Mohammad Sadam Husaen

Drawing: Mohammad Sadam Husaen

tak ada lagi damba
lumut dan bara api
menemani sepanjang hari.
aku disergap dentang kematian
dan aku terbakar hangus
dan aku lari tak tentu arah.
api memarak menghangus bajuku
sepasang tanganku
rambut kusutku. dan sambil berlari
aku menjerit memekik. tapi
tak ada yang peduli.
aku memandang ke depan dengan kedua mataku buta
dan ada pedih di sana
aku mendengar sekitarku dengan kedua kupingku tuli
dan ada suara-suara sumbang
buta dan tuli
tak mampu lindungiku
dari suasana hidup yang memilu

mata dan telinga hati


Saut Situmorang

my country where my mother lived and died
giving birth to five deaths, five silent deaths
silence of little babies lying cold on the tears-stained sheet of the bed
all the dreams, all the hopes of a noisy future
cut off and sliced by five angels of death
angels of envy, angels of burning crosses
angels that only dared to scare five little new born babies…

my country the land where my mother lived and died
forty eight years of cries and cries
and still more cries, sad and accepting cries
the silent cries that shamed the bright blue sky
that shamed the sun and the moon of the tropical sky
that shamed the great ancient tree of life
in the old square of the distant village
village of childhood, of a little girl too generous
for the arrogant world, the world of big-headed nonsense men
forty eight years of praying in the middle
of the nights, frightening nights of ancestors’ ghosts
and a drunkard husband
long lonely nights of a little country girl
lost in the labyrinth of big cities’ cheats and deceptions

my country the country of deep blue sea, deep blue sorrowful sea
the country of burning trees, burning birds, burning monkeys
the rivers dirty and choked like a diseased throat
and the countrymen walk aimlessly and stiff like skinny starved zombies

I cry for you, beloved land where my mother lived and died
land of blood thirsty green dogs roaming the dimly lit city streets
with hot bullets firing each time they barked
each time they howled at the half moon
which would never again become full
they howled and howled and barked and howled
and hot bullets, cursed hot white bullets like rain hitting everything
the sun the moon the stars the fishes in the black rivers
the birds hiding under rotten burnt branches the tigers the elephants
in the burning forests
the skinned snakes hanging from the houses’ roofs
houses of dust in burning cities of dust
air of dust water of dust voices of dust
and thin brown shadows
millions of thin brown shadows
under the evil watchful eye of a mad old general

my county, my mother…

(Saut Situmorang)

Haiku - such boredom


Posted: 20/04/2015 in Puisi

Your eyes are ancestral forests cut down for palm-oil plantations and pulp mills

Your eyes are sacred mountains dissected for gold and tin

Your eyes are fertile lands stolen for cement factories

Your eyes are mist-covered blue lake transformed into a giant pigsty

Your eyes are beautiful peaceful neighbourhoods cursed into foreign-name hotels

Your eyes are floodings and traffic jams haunting your mornings and nights

Your eyes are children crying starving not enough money to buy imported rice and salt

Your eyes are gas tanks exploded in the kitchen when you are making love with your wife

Your eyes are petrol price raised every time you ride your credit motorbike to work

Your eyes are the television programs showing how the rich live and do their shopping overseas

Your eyes are members of parliament complaining how low their salaries are while driving brand new mercedes

Your eyes are the police who shoot protesting students calling them anarchists and terrorists

Your eyes are the thugs dressed in religious clothings beating up students who are discussing book calling them communists

Your eyes are the president who keeps saying, “Sorry, it’s none of my business”

Your eyes are the media who made you elect the president

Your eyes are the outspoken poet reported to the police accused of “defamation, libel and verbal sexual violence” in Facebook

Your eyes are old women imprisoned for using the tree branches in their own property for firewood

Your eyes are state officials smiling on television after being arrested for corruption

Your eyes are nomadic indigenous tribes forced by the state to live in permanent villages and be civilized

Your eyes are supermalls and supermarkets mushrooming replacing the traditional markets all over your poor Third World country

Your eyes are the poor being refused emergency health care by hospitals all over your country

Your eyes are sick and tired brown eyes of million angry poor brown people waiting for a bloody brown revolution to explode like a long dead supervolcano

Your eyes are everywhere

(Saut Situmorang)

sajak sampah

Posted: 06/08/2014 in Puisi

seorang pengemis tua
di pinggir jalan

dan mati

angin malam
yang dingin
menghembus sampah sampah kota

menimbun mayatnya

besok paginya
seorang penyapu jalan
membersihkan sampah sampah itu

dan membuangnya ke laut

(Saut Situmorang)


Perahu Mabuk: sepilihan sajak cinta ©Saut Situmorang, 2014

Penerbit: pustaha hariara
Cetakan Pertama: Mei 2014
vi + 72 halaman, 15,5 x 260 Cm
Katalog Dalam Terbitan (KDT)
ISBN: 978-602-1599-91-4
Tata Letak: Irwan Bajang
Desain Cover: Saut Situmorang
Ilustrasi Cover: Snow Storm – Steam-Boat off a Harbour’s Mouth (1842) karya JMW Turner

Buku bisa dipesan langsung online di situs Indie Book Corner

orang orang lapar turun…

Posted: 28/05/2014 in Puisi

orang orang lapar turun dari gunung gunung
ke kota kota besar
seperti sungai sungai yang mengalir
ke lautan lebar.

gunung gunung masih hijau, hutan hutan masih penuh
burung burung masih berkicau
tapi orang orang lapar itu
sudah terdesak pagar pagar
beton villa villa rumah rumah mewah yang kekar kekar.
hijau gunung gunung
dan kicau burung burung
tak mampu mengusir rasa lapar yang menyakitkan,
suara tangis anak anak yang menjengkelkan, kebosanan
yang makin lama makin tak tertahankan.

orang orang lapar turun dari gunung gunung
ke kota kota besar seperti kawanan semut
yang keluar dari lobang tanah di bawah jendela.

sungai sungai yang mengalir
ke lautan lebar
dan semut semut
kembali ke gunung gunung
kembali ke lobang tanah di bawah jendela

tapi orang orang lapar itu
tak pernah kembali

tak ada yang peduli!


(Saut Situmorang)