POETRY COLLECTION 3B & 3C

A Small Forever
by: Agfadiyah Melanie

Beneath the twilight slowly falling,

you appear like the first star's glow.
Every smile of yours is a bridge
Leading my heart to an endless sky.

I Walked through silence alone,

yet your voice became a secret music
only I could understand.
You are the gentle rain descending,
washing the weariness from my chest.

If love is an ocean vast,

then I am the ship that gladly sinks,
only to remain within your arms.
And if time denies eternity, let every fleeting second with you become a small forever in my
veins.

Earth
By Angga Adrian Putra
The river coughs beneath tangled bags,
its surface broken by bottles half-sunk.
A lone sandal drifts,
shadowed by gulls circling the smell of rot.

On the shore, mango skins darken,

flies rising in clouds like restless smoke.
The wind drags it all through the alleys
wrappers caught in the mouths of weeds.

Flowers once bright fold inward,

dust painting their petals gray.
The soil is tired,
roots shiver in the sour weight.

Yet Earth still breathes,

waiting for gentler hands.

“Alone Among the Shadows”

By: Arla Ankostya Datana

Alone in the shadows, I arrived in the silence.

Every intersection felt empty, hollow, and dim.
The streetlights burned dimly, but their light seemed dim.
They light the road before me, but didn’t give me the warmth I needed.

The window I passed through was softly glowing. The windows I passed glowed softly
Like distant, unreachable bells, inner voices laughed.
The sky above seemed distant, the stars were few.
They shone for others, but not for me.

I reached out to it, but no one cared.

The night was my friend, you were always there.
It walked beside me silently, it listened but did not speak.
Ordinary words of comfort.

Alone in the shadows, I bore this entire burden.

A silence that disappointed me.
And though the night is endless, I know one thing for sure
That I am alone.

Deceit
By: Cut Kiasati Zatalini Dara Baroena

In the midst of the room, they shout for freedom

As if proving that it is truly real
Sadly, that shout is like a silent voice, lost in the air that refused to carry it
Unaware of many bound around them

In the end, the echo becomes a mirage

Deceiving those who fall under oppression
The powers say, “This place hears you”
But they also set traps when the small one speaks

Victory becomes the true companion of the master

Suffering becomes the companion of the people
The road feels blocked in searching for a glimmer of hope
As if the world itself locks in with silence

The small one can only kneel, hoping God is the fairest judge
For the world seems to belong to the vile ones
The voice knocks loudly on the door
But is muffled by the hands of those in power
The world is iron bars for the one who dares to speak

The lost song

By: Dewi Aprilia Fransiska

Where is the green of the grass?

All swallowed by the thirsty concrete.
The birds no longer have a home,
They search for a clean sky.

We build palaces of glass,

Planting smoke in every window.
The rivers no longer sing,
They choke on our own garbage.

Do we not hear
The sick earth’s cry?
Wait until its last breath,
Then we’ll know we were too late.
And all this silence
Is a mournful song for the future.

Teacher, a light in the Rain

By Dimas Arya Syahputra

In a classroom dimmed by the falling rain,

you were the only light against the quiet gloom.
Your voice drifted through the silence,
like a soft echo wandering through my mind,
planting gentle seeds of meaning hoping one day they would grow
into the tall trees of knowledge.

Every word you spoke carried warmth,

filling our empty thoughts with hope and wisdom,
and there, a fragile dream slowly began to bloom.

You were patient when we stumbled,

firm when we felt like giving up,
a guardian in the place where our second life began.

Never once did you show your weariness,

though your steps were surely tired it was as if your courage poured endlessly
through every lesson you gave.

Oh Teacher...
you were the quiet hero with no applause,
no ribbon, no shining medal only love.

And though time may scatter us

like leaves carried by the wind,
your voice remains,
rooted deep in our memory.
You will always live here hidden in the small, trembling space
between gratitude and longing.

Thank you, Teacher.

BROKEN GLASS
By: Dwi Fadhilla Hadisti

Your words pierce me like shards of glass,

Sharp and cold against my skin.
I try to hold them back,
But they sleep away, leaving invisible wounds.

The silence grows louder every night,

Filling the room with heavy air.
I search for warmth in the empty corners,
But only shadows care for me.

Love, which once blossomed in gentle hands,

Now lies shattered on the floor.
I carefully gather the pieces,
Knowing they will hurt me again, but I cannot let them go.

My heart bleeds in silent rivers,

flowing where no one can see.
Pain is my only friend, faithfully sitting beside me.
But part of me still hopes that the shards of glass can shine again, even amid the ruins of what
we once had.

The Quietest Way to Love

By : Dwi Putri Salsa Bila

You know, I've never been good at loving anyone else, even with myself I've failed,
I love in silence, because if I speak out, these feelings will shatter into wounds.
So let me be the one who knows, because every smile of yours
always calms the storm in my heart.

You may not know, behind my body,

there's a heart that keeps pounding
every time you smile without realizing it.
And even though you never see me, I still keep your picture in my head, on
my chest, every night I spend.

I don't need words of love

I just want you to know
I once loved in the quietest and most honest way in this world, without
reciprocation, without hope, without the promise of a longer life.

If I still had time, I would love to fall in love all over again
with someone who would sit with me, eat a portion of chicken noodles,
and not rush to leave before the soup is gone.

Love doesn't have to be beautiful;

sometimes it's just real. And if I die tomorrow, I want you to know that, in
this broken life, you were the only reason I chose to live.

When the Eart Smiles Again

By: Dwi Siti Aisyah

The morning light still touches the ground,

Where the broken roots find strength to rebound.
Though rivers carry yesterday’s scars,
Their surface still reflect the stars.

The trees bend low but do not fall,

They wait for kindness small or tall.
Every drop of care, every gentle hand,
Can turn the dust into fertile land.

Childrens’s voice rise like song,

Reminding us still belong.
The wind can heal, the sky can mend,
If we choose to stand, if we yang choose to tent.

The future grows with everyseed,

Hope returns when we take the lead.
Together we can write the day,
Where earth is green and here to stay.

Indonesian Government
By: Fenny Marcela Agatha Hutabarat

The cracked house still stands.

The flag still flies,
the anthem is still sung.
August 17th, called independence.
But is this independence?

The people’s council does not hear the people.

Like birds in the sky, they dance in parliament
laughing, weightless,
free on paper,
feasting on allowances.

Honor, communication, prestige

all paid from taxes,
while lawmakers earn thirty-four times
the minimum wage.
Meanwhile, the people scrape for survival.

The young struggle from their first steps,

the old until their final breath.
So where is the house of freedom?

Rich in culture, rich in nature,

but poor in integrity.
The budget flows not to classrooms,
not to hospitals,
but to defense, and to police.
No accountability.
Full impunity.
Armored trucks, tear gas,
uniforms turned against civilians
all bought with your taxes.

Who do they protect?

The people fight for a plate of rice,
while the corrupt drown in laughter,
mocking those they swore to serve.

Teachers are called “burdens of the state.”

Critics are branded “traitors.”
They do not speak for us.

The government preaches “free lunch”

while healthcare starves,
while education is slashed for “efficiency.”
Yet there is always room
for more ministers.

Does the President shut his eyes?

Denial is a river in Egypt
but your President is a dictator.

The revolution will be televised.

You chose the right time,
but the wrong leader.
Corruption takes priority.
The police no longer protect,
but kill.

RIP Indonesian democracy.

RIP humanity.

Love that dawned in januari

By fifi rizkia putri

Love that dawned in the month of January,

a love I never dream’d would grace my days.
A gentle word became our secret gate,
like a wandering breeze that dances with the leaves,
carrying them unto a garden bathed in light.

January is no longer of birth alone,

but of how our tale began to bloom.
Each word of thine a tender cloak,
a woven warmth against the winter’s chill,
that guards my trembling soul from storm.

Thy hand hath led me far from shadows, and since thy presence,
I but wonder... hath the heavens kindled two suns above?
For tears no longer visit my weary cheeks,
their rivers stilled by thy gentle flame.

How can a man love me with such beauty?

How was the earth so bless’d to bear his soul?
I, a maiden crown’d by dream,
have found my prince in a realm of fable,
where fairytales breathe and hearts are throned

Whispers of a Dying Earth

by Fitra Fitriana

Beneath a sky once brushed with tender blue,

The forests sigh their lungs are torn apart.
Rivers weep silver tears, grieving the view,
As ash and smoke engrave the planet’s heart.
Wolves pace the edge of a hollowed wood,
Their eyes like lanterns searching for a trail.
Deer flee the stumps where their safe haven stood,
While smoke drifts low, a heavy, ashen veil.
Seas hold reflections of a tainted gleam,
Where dolphins thread through plastic’s jagged snare.
The ice breaks thin, a fragile, haunted seam,
While winds cry low through forests stripped and bare.
Oh Earth, undone by hands too blind to see,
Your wounded heart still beats but pleads with me.

Latern Light
By; Halimah Mariyani Harahap

Education is like a latern,

Light the path to hope
Education is the morning dew,
That touches the petals of a smile,
Keeping it fresh even as time passes.
Education is the sun that dispels the fog of doubt.

I smile
My heart beats,
As fast as a thousand horses
How happy I am,
Reaching the highest peak,
With the great power of education.
Now my dream,
Greets me warmly

Get Well Soon, My Homeland

By: Hanna Monika Putri Togatorop

The forests are wounded and dry,

they cry out in pain.
The birds no longer sing,
and the sky in silence.
The rivers that were once clean,
now flow with trash and suffering.
The water looks dark,
and its pulse is weak, like a last breath.
The tears of the sky are no longer just rain,
they spill into a crippling flood.
Cold mud buries smiles in the remains of homes,
preserving unhealed grief, taking everything without mercy.
Mountains destroyed by greed,
their stones taken for money and power.
Now their strength is gone,
and we are silent witnesses to the death of their story.
Children play in smoke and dust,
their eyes holding shadows of fear.
They face a difficult future,
a bitter legacy of our unforgiveness.
Even though we are too late to change,
we can only cry and pray for you.
Oh beloved homeland, we ask you,
do not let this suffering be your end.

Light from the Classroom Window

By: Ilma Wijaya

Morning came with gentle steps,

Greeting the silent room.
From the classroom window, light slowly entered,
Warming our dreamy faces.

Greeting the open books,

Waking up the words that waited all night.
On the board, chalk draws,
Drawing the world before our eyes.

The teacher smiles, like the morning sun,

Filling the room with the light of hope.
Each word is a small key,
Opening doors inside our minds.

The light seems to whisper, “Keep learning.”

And in that whisper, our steps were slowly guided,
Towards a day full of light.

The Seat of Power

by: Isni Zahra Aulia
Upon the hill, where iron voices call,
A council shapes the dreams of common ground.
Their words, like rivers, rise and sometimes fall,
Yet leave their mark as roots beneath the sound.
The laws are woven, threads of fragile thread,
A tapestry both bright and torn with strain.
They bind the living, honor all the dead,
And weigh the justice, loss, and human gain.
The tower stands, a lighthouse in the storm,
Its light a guide, though shadows still remain.
For power bends, it shifts, it changes form,
A crown of thorns, yet hope within the pain.
So may the stewards guard the people's voice,
And hold the flame where all the hearts rejoice.

A Short Feeling
By: Kasih Amelia Putri Saprinda
In the stillness of the night, I looked at the dark sky beyond the living room window...
In that moment, your face was etched in my memory...
It took me back to the first time we met...

In a very special place...

A place where everyone finds themselves when life feels empty and lost...
That place was the most comfortable spot to share all problems....

That day, I unexpectedly met a perfect creation of God...

His calm face and wise demeanor impressed me...
His soothing voice reciting the holy verses of the Quran left my heart in awe...

Your plan is truly beautiful, God...

You brought him into my life so suddenly...
Even if our time together was short, it became the most memorable day of my life...

Oh God,
After I realized this...
I understood that I can only love him in silence...
I can love without needing to possess...

The feelings that have grown in my heart must remain with me...
I will hold onto them until the time comes when that feeling fades away...
I hope that you find someone who is the best choice for you, Amen...

Moonlight of a False Love

By: Laetetia Nazwa Almi
I thought your affection was moonlight glow,
a warmth my lonely heart could know.
Your gentle word, your soft affection,
were just a dream, a false reflection.

I held you close, afraid to lose,

but my love was something you’d never choose.
The hope I built began to fade,
my fragile heart you turn like a page

I fought for light, but lost may way,

bruised by truth I couldn’t say.
My tears now fall like autumn rain,
each drop of tears longing my pain.

So now I set the memories free,

like wind that leaves the restless sea.

Closure
By: Meutya Dwi Kustiantara
The day has turned once more.
Not like yesterday, when you were here,
spending the day together, just two of us.
As though the wind has blurred it all away,
no longer do I hear your whisper,
nor glimpse your lovely smile.
All has faded away, swallowed by the mist.
Where is the you I once knew,
you, who kept seeking me,
who never let me stand alone.
Now everything is only memory,
memories that I wish I could not remember,
but, I also could not wipe them away.
So much happiness, yet aching with sorrow.
Because our story has ended,
and what once ended will never return,
nor restored to keep it from ending.

The Land of Endless Night

By M. Rafly
The land of endless night,
where promises of light taste sweet,
yet hope is locked inside weary hearts,
waiting for dawn that never comes.

Darkness stays like an endless dusk,

a shadow sitting by the horizon,
waiting for night to grow heavier,
while the sun forgets to rise.

The people stumble like the blind,

unable to see what’s right or wrong,
rats run through the cracks of power,
seeking crumbs with greedy teeth.

So blind are the eyes of the mighty,

that sins become daily meals,
and burdens weigh so heavily,
they steal what belongs to others.

The cow is milked until it breaks,

not a single drop of pity left.
Laws are shaped like children’s games,
money tossed like cards in monopoly.

Chili and salted fish, once simple food,

turn to gold in this foolish world.
The poor are forced to starve like vegans,
while rulers dine as careless carnivores.

Schools stand to hide the emptiness,

books printed only to gather dust.
Each year, lessons are reshaped,
but only budgets truly change.

The land of endless night,

where dawn waits too long,
sitting quietly at the edge of sky,
as if it knows it may never rise.

“ A Journey of Learning ”
By : Naila Zakiyyah Aulia
Our class feels like a garden of the sun.
Where small hopes bloom,one by one,
The teacher's words, plantes deep inside.
Grow into dreams we cannot hide,

The chalk speaks softly across the board.

Its voice brings knowledge as a reward,
Books open door a both wide and near.
And whisper gently "Success is here".

Like a bird flying to the sky,

Learning lifts us, we rise so high.
Though shadows fall and troublea stay,
Education shines to light our way.

For every step in knowledge sown,

Build a future we call our own.

GREEN COVERED IN DUST

By: Naiza Khairani Rahadi
The palm oil leaves were emerald green before.
It’s drab today and it’s orange now from all the street dust.
The wind is not fresh anymore.
Dry grains are only for those that tight chests.

The trees were silent, without voices.

The leaves are drooping as if waiting for rain.
The streets are deserts of heat under the burning sun.
The paint is orange over delicate green.

A grey sky with a dull garden to look out at.

The bird takes to the wing, but it is loath to alight.
The earth laments under her burden, laments for deliverance.
The smell of dust is stronger than the fragrance of moist earth.

Yet deep inside, memories linger.

The green oil palm trees once shone beautifully,
but now only a shadow of the past remains in my eyes.

From Promises to Silence

By Nuraini Zahra
The promises you have made,
descend to serve before you rise to lead.
After you rose, everything disappeared.
We do not ask for a rain of gold.
Only a smooth road,
only equal access to education,
only healthcare that does not wait for wealth.
“Live, my land”
“Live, my nation”
Lyrics fulls of meaning, fading away.
No longer ‘live on,’ but ‘struggle to survive.
Where is the promise of ‘from the people, for the people’?
It is true that those in high positions oppress the weak.
Where should we turn for help?
Where should we plead?
How can we endure?
The bridge of the people’s voices,
has turned into the mastermind of chaos.
Small voices are like dust scattered in the air,
unheard and never listened to.

GLASS GOVERNMENT
By Raisyah Putri Hidayat
Sitting on a graceful chair within a grand hall,
Uttering promises sweeter than honey,
Seeking the people’s hearts like an angel.

Yet as time walks forward, the glow turns dark,

What was once an angel slowly begins to creep,
The radiant angel becoming a swarm of filthy rats.

The leaders make rules,

Common people take on a role,
It is truly like heaven and earth,
That is how they lead this beautiful country.

Oh Government, you are a glass vessel,

If it falls, hope shatters as well.
If maintained, it can serve as a haven for the people.

What worth is a tower scraping the sky,

If the rumblings from the people’s stomachs are still heard.
What worth is a meeting that never ends,
If the small voices are never counted within it.

The Light of Learning

By Ridho Syanjaya
The classroom opens like a garden in spring,
Each child a seed with dreams to bring.
Knowledge flows as a river without end,
Carrying minds where horizons extend.

The chalk becomes a wand of light,

Turning darkness into visions bright.
Books are windows to the sky,
Where wings of thought are free to fly.

A teacher’s voice is a lantern flame,

Guiding the lost, calling each by name.
Hope sits softly in every chair,
Whispering, Your future waits out there.
And so with every lesson learned,
A brighter world is slowly earned.

Adoring Nature
By: Salsabilla Ramadhani (2405112862)
The morning sun smiles at us with a gentle glow,
Whereas fields of sweet-smelling flowers happily bloom.
The streaming river hums a joyful tune,
Inviting every heart that listens to sing along.
Hills stood high with pride, dressed in green,
Keeper of the peace, both soothing and keen.
The breeze brings laughter through the trees,
A melody of hope drift on the seas.
Fireflies shine like golden lanterns, bright,
Melting away the shade of dark.
Butterflies dance with freedom in the open sky,
Their colorful wings fluttering high.
Oh, happy earth, how endless and true,
Your smiling face warms and inspires us too.

Behind the Broken Blackboard

By : Santi Ariska (2405110439)
In a narrow room, the chairs creak like weary sighs,
the old blackboard seems to weep with dust upon its face.
Worn-out books collapse on shaky desks,
as if exhausted from holding fragile dreams.

A dim lamp flickers, resembling a trembling hope,

while the teacher’s voice drifts softly like a prayer in the wind.
Every word is a tiny flame in the middle of a storm,
striving to survive though nearly fading.

Outside the window, the world races like lightning,

while we stumble slowly on a path of stones.
The school ceiling cracks and crumbles,
like aspirations on the verge of collapse.

The pen ceases to dance on the page,

for the paper is already soaked with tears.
The timetable freezes without colors,
turning days into hollow hours.

Yet beneath the scars of sorrow,

the seed of knowledge still reaches for the light.
Though its roots lie deep in barren soil,
it never stops longing for the sky

The Song of the River

By Sarah Aini
The river runs while humming,
weaving coolness among the stones,
its crystal waters like heaven’s glass,
reflecting the smiling sky above.

At times, it turns murky by human steps,

debris stuck like thorns in its stream,
yet the river keeps singing softly,
carrying hope for us to hear,
that its clarity can return again.

Let us be the guardian of its current,

planting love in every flow,
when we care, the river sings,
it carries a bright tomorrow,
toward an endless ocean of hope.

Love Falls with the Rain

by: Saskia Eviolina
The sky whispers softly,
as raindrops trace the windowpane.
Across from me, there you sit,
Lost in a book that holds the world.

Tonight, each falling drops

carries the weight of a love
too quiet to speak,
too heavy for words alone.

Through the gentle chorus of rain,

as night winds curl and cling,
I ache for a warmth
I have yet to truly know.

Rain fell the first time I saw you,

and since that moment, love has poured
like rain that always returns,
through the sky brightens, it comes back,
like droplets that never tire,
brushing the earth with tenderness.

Let the sky weep forever

Let rivers overflow, and oceans call.
As long as the rain keeps falling,
my love will fall with it,
eternal and true.
THE MEMORY OF JOY
By. Wilbert Ferdinand Manullang

I still remember that happy day,

The sun was warm, the sky was blue.
We laughed and played along the way,
And joy was shining, pure and true.

The voices stay inside my mind,

Like songs that never go away.
A gentle peace is what I find,
Whenever I recall that day.

Happiness lives in memory’s heart,

Like childhood dreams we always keep.
It gives my soul a gentle rest,
And holds me soft when I must sleep.

Happiness, you are a guiding star,

You stay with me the whole day long.
You light my steps when roads feel wrong,
Guiding my heart my whole life long.

Embrance of Time
By : Yoshe Destju Marshabilla

In your eyes, I see the remnants of a gentle dawn,

Soothing my weariness with its calm light.
Your smile is like the key to a secret door,
Which I can only open with a sincere heart.

You are present like a song that never ends,

Flowing slowly between my steps.
Without you, the day feels like a dry desert,
But with you, the day turns into a green garden.

Every touch of yours holds thousands of wounds,

Making this world feel so simple.
Our love never grows old with the passage of time,
It grows like a tree faithfully rooted in the ground.

If distance tries to test our relationship,

Longing will bridge that loneliness.
And if dusk closes the day with darkness,
I can still find you in a warm embrace

Beneath The Red and White

By Alyza Putri
Beneath the red and white the people stand,
Their voices rising like waves upon the sand.
The palace walls gleam, steady as stone,
Yet inside, whispers weave a fragile throne.

Promises bloom like flowers in June,

But some wither early, fading too soon.
The market cries echo through the air,
As mothers ask if justice lives there.

The river runs deep with the nation’s dream,

Carrying hopes like boats on a gleam.
Yet shadows fall where greed takes root,
Choking the tree that once bore fruit.

Still, the dawn breaks with a patient light,

For people endure, and truth takes flight.

WHEN FUNDS DISAPPEAR, CURRICULA CHANGE, AND TEACHERS ENDURE

By : Aqila Fawwazah

They say the funds are for students

But in reality, they end up in the pockets of the wolves in ties!
Cracked classrooms, crumbling chalkboards
While giant contracts for education become a feast of corruption

Ministers come, curricula change,

Ministers leave, teachers are left with headaches
Are schools just experimental fields?
Places where their egos write their names on the blank pages of history?

Teachers stand with meager salaries

Counted like numbers, a burden on the state
“Education,” they say, is the right of all people
“Education,” I say, is still stolen from the poor
Covered sweetly with the word “scholarship”

But even now, many children still drop out of school

Crushed by financial hardship
Who knows where their promises have gone
Sinking, swallowed by a sea of lies
And the future drowns with them.

O House of Mirrors
By: Aurel Putri Sulistyo

In marble halls, they sit like kings on borrowed thrones.

Their pens are daggers, carving wounds into the law.
The people’s cries, wild storms against the iron doors
Yet inside, silence feasts like a god, unbothered.

Streets burn with voices, a river of restless feet.

Banners rise like broken wings against the sky.
Mothers trade bread for ashes, fathers curse the dawn.
Children inherit chains wrapped in ribbons of lies.

The parliament, an echo chamber of gold.

Drinks the nation’s sweat as if it were wine.
Tone-deaf, they dance while hunger empties the kitchens,
Leaving pots to echo with their hollow song.

O House of Mirrors, when will you see the fire?

Your people are not shadows; they are the storm!

A SECRET LAND IN THE GROVE

By: Cesie Septiani Dewanti

My feet press upon firm, smooth, and damp grains,

As though stepping into a quiet land of old secrets.
The tall trees gathered around me,
Watching from their great heights
Like ancient guardians of this place.

The dense leaves shield me from the sun’s fierce glare,

But their gaps let sunlight in, dripping softly,
Like a blessing falling from heaven.

The plants live side by side, each in its own way,

Weaving harmony from beautiful scattered pieces.
My steps become the only melody,
Accompanied by the whisper of passing wind,
The songs of birds and the timid creatures around me.

Once, this was the corner of the world they cherished.

But now, that world is only a dream.
The soft, damp earth I once stepped upon
has hardened into concrete, rough and dry.

My Scar, My Lantern
By: chindy eka pratiwi

In the middle of two heartbeats,

Silence, yet I can hear a yearning,
Like rainfall trembling on a windowpane,
Delicate, yet undeniable.

Your absence is not empty space,

It is a shadow that learns to breathe,
A quiet steam beneath my skin,
Flowing where no one can see it.

I carry memories of you like a lantern,

Its glow both comfort and burden,
Each step was lit by what was lost,
Each night softened by what remains.

If feelings were stars,

You would be the brightest scar in my sky.

SUNRISE IN MY HANDS
By: Dini Andriani Br Simbolon

I wake up to a sky that’s slowly changing

Light sneaks in through my window, soft and warm
I take a deep breath, hoping today feels right
The past fades a little as I stretch my arms

My dreams are like balloons, floating above my fears

Sometimes hope just sits quietly inside me,
keeping me steady even when things feel messy.
And the wind passing by feels like a small reminder,
that I should keep moving forward.

Every step feels lighter under this new sun

Shadows shrink behind me, giving way to light
And I smile at the road that’s waiting ahead

The world looks bigger, ready for my hands

Every little thing seems possible today
I know mistakes will come, but that’s okay
Cause I’ve got the sunrise right here in my hands

WHISPERS BETWEEN THE DAWN AND FOG

By: Lola Difani Nababan

The dawn spreads softly,

While fog still lingers.
The road divides before me,
Quietly asking which way to go.

A flower opens, trembling in the air,

Its scent gentle, reminding me —
Even in doubt, kindness grows.

The rivers move, mountains stand,

Sunlight warms the rice fields.
In their calm, I find peace.

Between dawn and fog,

I carry both fear and hope.
The flower will bloom,
Until the fog clears away.

ANTS ARE NOT MEANT TO SERVE GRASSHOPPERS

By Marda Lena
Ants are not meant to serve grasshoppers.
We were not born to kneel at your throne.
Our sweat is not the jewel of your crown,
our bones are not the pillars of your palace.

You dine on the bread we bake,

yet our tables are left in hunger.
We sow the fields, you steal the harvest,
we march in silence, you boast in power.

We are the fire you cannot smother,

the tide that drowns your walls of gold.
Without the people, laws are just paper,
without our labor, your power is dust.

Ants are not meant to serve grasshoppers.

It’s you who need us.

A Aleglected Environment
By Martha Marlina Artauli Manurung

Morning Comes Carrying mist.

the sky has lost its blue,
Covered with Smoke and heary dust.
no fresh air remains within the chest.

The wind blows Slowly,

but it does not bring coolness
Instead, a Stinging Smell fills the nose,
I once wondered where it came from.

It turned out to be from trash Piled by the roadside

Plastic bottles food leftovers, and Plastic bags
Scattered and heaped carelessly, no one cares.
No one cares for the place they live

No more green trees all replaced with towering buildings.

When the rain comes, the water no longer Seeps into the soil,
This is what brings disaster. My heart aches,
Seeing the earth once so beautiful, Now as if forgotten.

The Journey Of Knowledge

By : Muhammad Ridho Saputra

I walk along a brand-new way,

Searching for light behind the gray.
An empty mind longs to be filled,
With pure knowledge, my heart is stilled.

Time goes on without stopping.

But I try my hardest and never give up.
As a small flame in the darkest night,
Bright knowledge guides.

Every page I read opens a door,

Asking me to look for more.
Every action I do becomes a prayer.
Bringing me closer to a reality that is so uncommon.

Oh wisdom, please stay close to me.

A wealth greater than the sea.
My soul will never fall as long as you're here.
Because knowledge imparts real life to everyone.

A NATION IN ASHES
By: Muhammad Rizky Pramana

The streets are crowded, yet the tables are bare,

citizens crying while leaders don’t care.
Hope stands jobless, waiting in line,
while power insists, “All is fine.”

Corruption feasts on the nation’s bread,

a banquet of shadows where justice has bled.
Ministers drink from the people’s veins,
their pockets grow fat, yet poverty reigns.

Truth is imprisoned, her voice turned to dust,

chained by the whispers of power’s unjust.
Dreams are betrayed, yet sold as reform,
a paradox cloaked in a civilized form.

And still the streets thunder, a river of pain,

banners like storms in the cold, pouring rain.
Voices ignite with a furious flame,
calling the guilty by their true name.

O nation, wounded yet burning with will,

your silence was broken, your spirit stands still.
The palace may tremble, the tyrant may fall,
for sorrow and anger will echo through all.

ECHOES IN MY CHEST
By: Muthia Dara Aprillia

The night feels heavy with things I didn’t say,

And the thoughts circling in my mind like restless birds.
Each silence sharpens, a blade of air,
Cutting the spaces we used to share.
My soul's a lantern, flickering dim,
Searching the dark where hope grows slim.
Memories linger, ghosts in the rain,
Dancing with shadows, whispering pain.

My pulse is thunder, wild and loud,

Crashing beneath a storm-tossed cloud.
Love is a fire I cannot tame,
It burns my breath, it calls your name.

And though the distance tears us apart,

You live in the echoes inside my heart.

THE LAST TREE

By: Nayla Hasya
In this silent forest
Birds gather upon my branches
As if they know my loneliness
The sky turns gray
As thought it mourns for the earth below.
My friends fade away.
Struck down bv merciless axes
Burned to ash without a trace
Their remains carried by the wind
Slowly disappearing

I long to ask
Am I truly needed?
Is there a spark of hope?
When will this sorrow end?
Not until they realize That my breath,
is theirs to keep

THE RISE OF THE GREEN HEART

By: Nur Azizi

The river hums a lullaby to the trees,

Its silver hands brushing stones with grace.
Mountains wear crowns of clouds with ease,
Guarding the sky in their timeless embrace.
The flowers bow when dawn’s light appears,
Colors like whispers soft upon the ground.
Yet smoke drowns their songs with choking tears,
And plastic thorns in oceans are found.

The wind sings though her voice is weak,

Begging the careless to lend her their ear.
Her breath paints hope on the future we seek,
If only love could conquer fear.

The stars look down as guardians of night,

Watching the Earth as he struggles to grow.
Oh Earth, your pulse still beats light,
Rise with us now, let your green heart grow.

LANTERN OF KNOWLEDGE
By: Resfi Mariska

Through endless time I walk

across few lands, on weary roads.
It grows like foam upon the sea
untouched by doubt, unbroken by time.
A glimmer of light in darkest night
a pearl beneath the ocean’s tide.
Weaving hope into the fabric of life
“For the earnest shall surely find,” they say.

It opens the path toward a dream

guides the steps through silent streams.
Unveiling veils once tightly drawn
in search of truth that knowledge bears.

I shall cross the boundless sea

I shall climb the highest peaks.
For every drop of wisdom’s spring
become a balm, a cooling stream.

Though long I wait, I will not tire

I seek the flame that never dies.
For knowledge shines eternally
a guiding star for days to come.

FROM CHAINS TO DAWN

By: Robi’ah Laila

You sit upon the throne of borrowed flame,

a crown of trust, not wealth or name.
Yet from the height, you blind your eyes,
while hunger crawls like shadow where hope lies.
Your palace walls are painted with lies,
each promise dies before it flies.
Your voice a storm that tears apart,
Yet never listens to the people’s heart

We shout, but you bury our sound,

turning our hopes into dust on the ground.
Power you hold like an iron fist,
yet justice you twist, pretend it missed.

But storm cannot silence the sea,

The river of voices will always be free.
From anger’s fire, new light is born,
And hope will bloom through every morn.

THE CRY OF NATURE

By: Sella Paulina Hutahean

The forest whispers with a trembling song,

Its gentle voice ignored by crowds too long.
The rivers darken, flowing weak and slow,
No silver streams with freedom left to go.
The mountains mourn, their green now torn apart,
A hollow scar remains within their heart.
The ocean groans beneath a heavy pain,
Its broken voice repeats the same refrain.

Yet through the air a fragile spark survives,

A call for care, a hope that still revives.
If hearts would rise to heal the earth’s decay,
Her wounded soul could shine in light one day.

For nature pleads with every breath she keeps,

Her fragile cry runs through the land and deeps.
She begs our hands to guard the world we share,
And turn her grief to light through love and care.

“Banquet of Promises”
By Seva Natasya
The rulers feast on speeches,
Each word roasted with applause,
While the table legs wobble
On the backs of the hungry.
They toast to “progress” in crystal glass,
But the wine tastes of borrowed debt.
The crowd outside is offered crumbs
Wrapped in ribbons called “policy.

When the streets flood,

They call it “a blessing of nature.”
When the markets sink,
They call it “part of the plan.”

And when the people finally speak,

The palace doors swing shut,
For nothing ruins a banquet
Like the sound of truth.

EARTH'S QUIET SONG

By: Tatiana

The river sings a gentle song, it carries dreams the whole day long. Its silver voice, both soft
and clear, reminds us all that peace is close.

The trees stand strong, their branches sway.

Their roots hold stories, worn but true. The flowers glow like endless fire, filling fields with
grace and beauty.

And when stars begin to glow, the quiet winds of evening flow.
Crickets sing, the night is deep.
The world prepares to close its eyes.

So take a moment and you will find, the Earth’s a poem, wild and free.

WHISPERS OF THE EARTH

By: Yokhebed Yessika Gowasa

In the silent whisper of the morning breeze

The sun greets us from the east
The forest sighs
Among the dancing leaves and flowers
The sea and all its contents are silenced
The river whispers softly
Its silver voice fades
Covered by the shadow of plastic and waste

The sky seems to be calling out loudly

Wanting its blueness to remain
But in reality, it's crushed by smoke
And lost in the thick ash

The earth groans softly

With the wind and a soft voice,
Saying, "Love me, take care of me,
Before my silence becomes your end."

THE FIRE IN THE PEOPLE’S CHEST

By: Yulia Fitriani

The red and white once rose in blood,

Heroes fell, baptizing soil with flood.
They dreamed of freedom, sharp and true,
But now that dream is sold to you.
The rivers choke on whispered lies,
Forests scream beneath burning skies.
Gold is stolen, the land betrayed,
A nation’s dignity cheaply weighed.
In velvet halls the “rats in ties” reside,
Their swollen bellies fed by the people’s cries.
Sacred vows dissolve in smoke,
While justice wears a shattered cloak.
O government! Hear the earth’s despair,
The blood of martyrs still fills the air.
Freedom once born in sacrifice,
Now strangled by your hands of vice.
The people rise with blazing roar,
Their hearts aflame forevermore.
We weep for a land our heroes won,
Yet scream: “This nation won’t be undone!”

LANTERN OF TOMORROW
By: Ady Saputra

In villages where walls still whisper hunger,

Classrooms breathe with tired chalk and broken chairs.
The budget flows like a restless river,
Yet some drops vanish into shadows of silence.
A child sings: abundant coins, yet empty shelves,
Children count stars instead of books at night.
Still, hope refuses to bow,
It plants itself like grass through cracked cement.

Education, a lantern with unyielding flame,

Dares to light the road where darkness lingers.
Though numbers drown in the ocean of waste,
Every child’s dream rises higher than mountains,
A courage that no deficit can erase.

Let the motherland be a loyal parent,

Not a stranger to its own children’s needs.
For every coin placed wisely in a teacher’s hand,
Becomes a thousand wings for tomorrow’s flight.

THE LIGHT OF KNOWLEDGE

by: Cindy Kamalia Dewi

It is in little school rooms that the future first nephew,

and dreams take root on the paths we set.
Books are lights illuminating our path,
guiding us out from darkness and into the light.

Various candies on teacher shelves like torches in a storm,

molding young minds and standing beside them while they’re transformed.
Each lesson is a seed sown in soil,
where wisdom houses grow.

But walls may totter and roofs may fall,

when education becomes more expensive than we can pay for.
Children wander, lost and with futures forced on hold,
knowledge became a commodity that they exchanged for currency.

And yet pencils become swords in this skirmish,

battling the evil in an effort to protect justice and truth.
Education, as a bridge for the poor,
escorting us into new universes and through myriad doors.

Oh, eternal wisdom, whose words are few.

your light will shine on in those who look for you.
While there are barriers and struggles which still face us,
knowledge will never die.

HARBOR AFTER THE STORM

By Intan Marisa
The sun greets me with its warmth,
while you are held by the cool embrace of night.
When I whisper “good morning” to you,
you reply softly with “good night.”
Miles of ocean lie between our souls,
yet you and I still find the same love.
Not even time could steal it away,
for destiny has long been written above.
The screen becomes our fragile bridge,
yet it still binds two souls across the seas.
Your voice is a warm blanket in the silent night,
believe me, my heart is always by your side.
Each day, I trace the tickin hours,
The fleeting minutes, the restless seconds,
Waiting for you through all you do
From the rhythm of your busy life
Your laughter always echoes in my mind,
a melody I replay each time I miss you.
Though I cannot hold your hand,
your presence each day makes my soul whole.
And believe me, when this distance fades,
the oceans will bow, and the skies will bend.
No more fragility between our souls,
only an embrace, a harbor after the storm.

THE STAIRS OF LIGHT

By: Mai Dita Thusa’Dia

Within a room of light, silence softly breathes.

Books stand tall, steps toward the sun.
Night arrives, carrying an endless fire.
A child fights quietly within.
Tiny fingers dance upon the page,
turning words into dreams.
The clock ticks on, yet her spirit stays strong.
In silence, she seeks meaning.

Beneath the stars, she keeps on learning,

planting dreams in the field of night.
Books are her tools, hope her rain.
From patience, faith is born.

When dawn returns,

she gathers the fruit of her stairs of light.

BENEATH THE UNFURLED FLAG

By: Deanabila Mahagita

The palace stirs its chamomile tea

While traffic hums a weary tune
A minister tweets a flawless scene
But rice still races past the noon
The roads still yawn, their mouths unclosed
Each pothole smirks at every wheel
Farmers sigh but hold their ground
While malls grow tall with glass and steel

Justice waits, her tea gone cold

Her slippers lost from all her runs
The flag still waves, its colors brave
But people remember what is undone

And still, the children fly their kites at night

Where hope keeps glowing in the light

PEARL OF LOVE
By: Yohana Fitri Nofita Br Lumban Raja

Walking through the path of life

Never imagining every hidden love
A pure touch of affection
Gives meaning, I’m worthy of it
Wondrous things, always unexpected
A storyline like melody
Leaves me stunned and in awe
A carved smile blooms upon my lips

Even tears find their way

All feelings and thoughts undefined
They visit, sometimes they stay

A love that is absolutely loyal, only from you

Gazing at the sky becomes a symbol of how vast your love truly is
Even pearls of the sea cannot rival the pearl of your love

THE SCULPTOR’S LESSON

By: Syarifah Faizatul Ulya
I used to think that every carving stole from me
That chisels only cut away, not set me free
So, when they pressed the stone with guiding hand
I shattered every mark, refusing to understand

I carved alone, careless, for pride not for form,

Each strike gratified me, though it broke the norm
But when my peers followed and all was undone,
My sculpture lay in ruins, no shape, no sun

I tried to mend the rubble, but my tools felt strange

Symbols of knowledge I never chose to arrange
So, I wandered the halls where statues stood tall,
Jealous of their grace, ashamed of my fall

Then voices called, sculptors from ages untold

“Your hands are true your stone can still unfold.
Show us your work,” They urged without disdain,
Yet I hid my ruins, trembling with shame

Still, they knelt beside the rubble I denied,

Chisels ringing hope where my failures lied
Alone they could not raise what I had destroyed,
but together we shaped a form, balanced, employed

The Cold Air of Longing

by: Nursyafira Syarfi

Footsteps echoed along the terrace

I slowly opened the door that I hadn’t touched for a long time
The cold air coming out felt gripping
I remembered the past again
Slowly the memories repeated itself in my head
Where are the times that I really miss
I want to relive them
The image appears vividly, full of happines

It’s been a long time since that smile disappeared

The smile that I always used as encouragement for life
I use every word she says as a reference
Her advice makes my life feel calm

Now only memories can I remember

I can no longer feel the warmth of her embrace
I include her in my prayer
For her the world I long for__

The Light Within the Abyss

By: Muhammad Octavian

Humans like us are bound to make mistakes,

Even as we mend them, we stumble once more.
We fall into the abyss of our own darkness,
Yet even in the deepest pit, a light still glows.
Within the distant abyss, many choose to surrender,
Defeated by hardships, afraid to repeat the same scars.
Yet silence alone will never lead the way,
For even every fall becomes a priceless lesson.

Falling into the abyss is never the end,

For every soul strives to climb again.
Let each heavy, rugged step be the path toward light,
And all who rise from darkness emerge stronger than before.

To err and to rise again that is what makes us human,

The abyss of failure is not the end but a chamber of growth.
Never surrender, keep striving with courage,
For each attempt leads us closer to success.