POEM OF NIKEN KINANTI

Suasana Jalur Pantura (dokumen pribadi)

BUTTON OF CLOTHES
I found that
despite the button of your shirt
like living
lulled the bonding
own name all items
where I name all the space umbrella to you
You are grim, which often exceed the dim light
You made me forget
That time has maintained its judicial buttoned shirt

I found one that escapes
Likewise I find the memories
Even though the memories themselves,
often choose away and did not want to live in a pulse



The Child That Holds Flag

Will I profiled yo
On a Saturday
such a hot day
a boy with tired legs
but the spirit was never broken

He walked down the day
with small shoulders carrying the load

The little boy, with a big heart living in Indonesia.
The little boy, who should be at work
In the morning
He should learn about the syllabic
Or about the universe

But he,
Boy in the morning,
must pick up plastic in the lobby shop
He took slow, and he stacks in a large container on his back

Until the day before, when the boy was discovered lying piece of flag
He picked it up. Red and white
Then he said himself
He promised to wash the flag
He hang up on a pole in front of his house
Because he wanted to
Be the platoon commander ceremony
One day later











Grandpa and Piece of Story About Batanghari
Now, maybe grandpa would laugh with yellow teeth
with a cigar
jasmine cap, he inhaled deeply cigar, he saw
looking for rocks on the bend of the river
He always told me
in order to keep the inheritance of predecessors
Ah, grandfather
Grandson was too naive to know the noble ideals

I always miss my grandfather. A simple cigar. That carried me on the sidelines of the river. He was happy fishing. And I do not really care about him. I just do not like the smoke from his cigar. So when he puffed on his cigar
I ran to the rocks between this river. Grandpa used to say to me
that the river is referred to as
"Sri Nandana garden Surawasa are always rich in rice "
That's why today, I always remember my grandfather and do not like to eat bread,
prefer to eat rice

Ah, grandpa. I miss you bring it to Suruaso
The place where you said advice and trustful
Now, whether you are still smiling as I think? As much as I used to, small and petite
Folding elbow when you're leading me towards the upstream ...










Eternal Father
Father, you said before the season that know love ...
Because often you through life
with dozens of labor, sweat
which becomes steam. You connect. You bight
So the ideas that you hang to me as a child.
You told me once, you wanted me to be an employee country. Working every day Uniformed cold when dates have until the end of the day
And do not forget you've always wanted, so I like it when older, can receive a pension that could become self-sufficient

Dad, I remember when I was a kid,
A time when you're dressed like a torn cloth underneath
Jarit was shabby and dull,
The color is pale yellow. And motives are masked
Whether it's a bird or a flower motif, you told me to appreciate
Because it belonged to my great-grandmother, when you say it to me
Because it's the only thing that can be given to him,
Besides the treasure, you say. The never lasting filling the coffers.

Now I was already grown up
Ah, what's up, Dad
If we can not speak our own hearts
Maturity is testing the umpteenth time. Because sometimes the opportunity
make the people who have grown up
Feel able to do everything
Without introspection

What was the point of that, Father. If the intention was to be king
Like the flowers that wither quickly without furl follow blindly.
What is the meaning of that, if the past had never learned
That honesty does not want on-emphasized


Solo, the end of July. 2012













Memories of Walnut Trees in River Edge
Saturday
Has overtaken time, pliers childhood has become a teenager,
Watching, reading all the event live on the ground. On Earth
In the sky were, Blue has been a time,
For the first muscle now become iron
A hundred times more, in the case of ammunition for flood town
Along the railway that brings people

Walnut tree
And the memory of a child
Herding cows passing
Back and forth to the ends of rice
Where the grass is not green benchmark now
Because the plant has been known artificial nutrition
Again. By labeling and advertising, with warranty

Walnuts never break a promise on time
It's just that, a child never remember how he
In the small time grow with a grain of walnut trees turn to
That houses the child as a child, when crying. Because there is no pocket money from Mom
Children often take shelter, when selling merchandise kind of bread, around the side streets unpaved, rocky and grassy wild.
The child has grown,
Consuming work of his own hands
Hoe forest on the edge of time
And this time it has turned into rail
Bring along any breakthrough in an era
The boy could not remember
How times have been keeping the walnut tree
And he will not get it now, how stick iron bringing modernization




Biodata:
Niken Kinanti, perempuan kelahiran tahun 1990 di Kenanti Dukuhseti, Indonesia. Cucu seorang Pedagang Craken. Meski berpendidikan bidan tapi ia jarang melakukan praktek dan lebih asyik menekuni sastra.. Puisinya dimuat di Buletin Pawon, Buletin Keris, Gandrung Sastra, Majalah Bong-Ang. Buku antologi puisinya: “Poetry poetry from 226 Indonesian poets: Flows Into The Sink Into The Gutter”, “Dialog Taneyan Lanjang” (Majlis Sastra Madura), “Merawat Ingatan Rahim” (Jejer Wadon & Komnas Perempuan), “Puisi buat Gus Dur: Dari Dam Sengon ke Jembatan Panengel” (Dewan kesenian Kudus), “Negeri Sembilan Matahari” (Sastra Welang Pustaka), “Darah di Bumi Syuhada”, “Semesta Cinta Untuk Gaza”, “Solo dalam Puisi”, “Karet Gelang”, “SURAT KEPADA BUMI” (Pementasan Festival Goa dan Air di Kayen, Pati)