Hey great 
For me, writing poetry can free my own mind, apart from of course being able to share feelings or fantasies with everyone who reads it, or with everyone who listens to the poem being read.
I don't promise good writing. I'm not a great writer. I'm still learning to write well. However, I can state that whatever I write is my own thoughts, I write it with my heart, and it is genuine. At least, that's what I'm saying, or, that's what I want.
Today, I present a poem about rice fields. We in Aceh, Sumatra, are people who eat rice. I do not know since when rice became our staple food. About rice, there is something unique. The tree is called "padi". The seeds before being shelled are called "gabah". Once the skin is removed it is called "besar". Once cooked it is called "nasi". When ground into rice bran it is called "tepung beras".
Rice is grown in rice fields where there is a lot of water. There is also rice grown on dry land such as wheat or corn. This is a type of rice that is rarely planted. In Aceh, rice on dry land is still planted around Terangon, Gayo Lues, in the highlands, down the Bukit Barisan mountain to the west coast of Aceh. More common is rice grown in mud, all over the Aceh coast.
There is one more type of rice, namely pulut rice. It has sticky properties. Pulut rice flour is usually used to make cakes. If cooked like rice, it's for pulut. In Aceh it is called "Breueh leukat" (pulut rice), "Bu lukat" (pulut rice). Not staple food, but cultural food.
In the wise words of the Acehnese people, there is "jaroe bak langai, mata u pasai" (hand plow, eye to market). That proverb means, people are asked to plant something that people need in the market.
This is somewhat ironic considering the state we are in. Call it college in our place. They teach prospective graduates something that is not needed in the market or workplace. Ah, that's their business. Let's talk about rice fields only. More precisely, let's write a poem about our beautiful rice fields.
Our Rice Field
The rice fields are our mother's life
so that we may eat and live
We have rice from the fields, fish from the rivers and the sea
Our needs are complete
simple people from the past
at that time, we planted pepper all over the island
export it to Istanbul, to Venice
It was then.
Now, we no longer have that pepper garden
We only have a few fields of rice fields
Even in the primitive world though
we are left behind from our mothers in the past
The rice fields are now a beautiful sight for us
Our village women still exist
That's their main job
That's their beautiful life
In the morning they go to the fields, before noon they come home
Cooking food for her husband and children
In the fields, they only need water
For their fields when the planting season arrives
When the dry season arrives
the muddy soil dries up, the rice withers, waiting for the rain to fall again.
We are village farmers, have only a small piece of land
We don't have big dreams, like people in the city
We are rice field people, village people near the forest.
Thank you
January 4, 2023
Kind Regards
Thayeb Loh Angen
Rice fields in Paloh Dayah, Lohseumawe, Aceh, Sumatra. Photos by Jamaluddin/Lodin.