The Love of the Poet
Episode 4
Passage
Fourthly
The Love of the Poet
The feature about Beib aka Hamid Utomo was published in the tabloid where I was
work, get a good response from readers. According to bird news, shares
company's up. This was stated by my Redactor, Mas Heri when
editorial meeting. And the continuation of that, according to my boss, Beib will cooperate
with the company I worked for founded the children's tabloid.
“But there are conditions,” said Mas Heri in the meeting room. “Pak Hamid Utomo asks Naina
who runs the children's tabloids. You're the editor-in-chief, and you
also who will select journalists who will work in the tabloid. How
Naina?” Mas Heri looked at me sharply.
I'm appalled. My shock was not extinct when my Fb notofication rang. Cubaca
a poem appeared there. Quick my Kusilent Hp. The editorial meeting is still
lasted.
“Naina Jaqueline Haning, are you ready?” ask Heri again.
I was silent for a moment. Then I said, “I don't understand why I should
become Editor-in-Chief in the children's tabloid to be established, Mas.
After all I have only been here for two years, there are many more senior ones.
I feel I can't yet, Mas.”
“If you refuse, this partnership is off. Hamid wanti-wanti asked that
you're the editor-in-chief. I feel like it's a good opportunity. Although
you've only been in the tabloids for two years, but your performance is good and yours
take responsibility for the tasks we provide, just like our peers
the other. Fear not, we journalists in this room will help you.”
“Give me time to think Mas.”
“Don't be long, in the meeting next Sunday, I've received the answer.” Press Mas
Herr.
From the fifteenth floor of my office, I floated my gaze through the windowpanes, looking
magnificent buildings that line up like an arrangement of cubes with a variety of views,
some are rigid, some are artistic with ghotic-style architecture and
futuristic. I remember the meeting earlier. It's a request too
hurry, I thought. Become an editor-in-chief of a tabloid
children, it is not as easy as turning the palm of the hand. I have to understand about
market share of children, child psychology, appropriate educational rubrication
with children's reading. All children should be concerned.
While I myself have never been in the world of children. And the
more worried about me, what if the tabloids don't sell out? Decreased oplag
continues to? It will all be on my shoulders. I will be that worker
it is in the clutches of the capitalist. Must provide a profit from capital
already disbursed. Kemelut that comes as diverse as piercing the shell
my head. Unknowingly, finally my finger opened the Fb screen and clicked on the word
messenger. There I read a poem uploaded by the stars.
Longs
I have a hundred longs to have sent
With the word that
swerving around in a dream deck about you
I call you, so that the eyes do not turn away
momentary
Despite the instant, that face continued to be imprinted on the wall of the heart
You're being yourself, there's no such thing as polish
shadowing in the face
You are simple, heartbroken longing
Calling you to find your way home
I am so sick of giggles
menerpa, want to hug to miss paid off already
You're the real one accelerating the thump in the chest
Hear the soft word in the tone lane, “I miss you..”.
Stars/Jkt/2020
I took a deep breath after reading the poem. There was a little relief when I read it.
The melancholic poem that the Star sent brought me back to the imaginary arena
this time accompanied my anxiety. Then I gave a brief comment under the poem
that, I said, “ Miss is addressed to whom? Don't be too melancholy. At
beyond poetry, the world is dying, covid-19 is getting ferocious uncontrollably.
Too long playing on the metaphorical path, has made you forget that life is
very heavy and full of pressure.”
“I miss referring you. Don't think too hard, sing with your heart. How much
the weight of the work that you bear and feel, all will look good
only if you react to it without a burden. Please, give me smile!”
“Huh, basic guys less work!”
“Loh this I'm working on, making you a poem.”
“That's your business, I didn't ask.”
“But you always read it, right? Like at the moment. I saw you were agitated.
And I'm sure, my poem has comforted you.”
“Wah, you psyche, where do you know I'm nervous?”
“From my feelings. I know that..”.
Set the cursor on the Hpku screen. I looked at the photos on the wall. But photos
his profile I see is highly unlikely. That's a photo of Brad Pitt, a Hollywood actor
my favorite. And the other photos contain only flowers and trees
shady and cool that exist in various countries. There are some pictures of him.
It is just a silhouette. His face is not real. Position when photographed
show more of your back, legs and fingers. This guy is
good at hiding his form. But what looks honest is the temple
by the verse of the poem that filled almost his entire wall. Even though I don't like it
with melancholy words, but I know that the poems he wrote
original is not plagiarism.
“You coward,” I said in the messenger. “Why aren't your profile photos there?
While you've seen all the activity on my wall. Come on, if you dare
show your face, don't hide behind your back, fingers, legs and
just poems. Don't you be the thinly-veiled psychopath who likes
hiding behind the word?” my many.
Laughing emoticons appear. “Honey,” said. “ini is still warming up. It's not good to shoot
if the enemy is caught. Play first those games that are immersive
at the same time tense, until the curiosity continues to haunt the mind. Time
still walking in front of dear, we do not need to rush.”
“You're good at hiding behind words. Actually, you're a sissy or a man
real anyway? Or are you transgender?”
A laughable emoticon reappeared. The stars are not angry. Then he
sending back a photo of Brad Pitt to me in a different pose. This time there is
comment, “I know you admire him. But later if you've met
with me, Brad Pitt you'll forget. I'm more handsome than he knows..”
God fucking. Gertutuku alone. “Awas you, I'll trace your account and I'll find out if you're a star
verily or abal-abal account as well as human so-genesis!”
“Ups! Don't be so angry, you'll have a stroke. Someday we will meet.
The important thing is that you enjoy the poems I send. Believe me, I
not the basket-eyed man who always tethered his heart to
beautiful and sexy women. I just like you, you mean, but
sweet and smart. Really.”
The stars did not appear again. I'm back to being silent.
(Connected)
