New poems: Sushant Thapa

 

Beholding Love

 

Love escapes through

long intervals of touch

between fingers.

Kisses grow old

like mirrors

throughout life.

I was a spring dancer

now I am

a winter statue.

Clouds have darkened

and sprinkles of misty rain

fall and keep falling.

Love is an abstract noun,

but I miss your touch.

We are

concrete manifestations.

Our kisses are absolute;

they don't empty like

filled vessels.

I feel your absence

and you emerge out

of mirror frames.

I watch you

in the mirror;

we have exchanged

ourselves.

 

 

Sorrow is a river

 

Morning manifests

in clean attire

as if a slate

has been washed.

The night has lost

its own caricature.

I see that the sun

has hidden itself

and winter has flowered.

The dew covered grasses

feel as if spring

has kissed them

silently.

Invention lies in

inventing happiness.

Sorrow is a river;

it drowns you

unless you learn to swim.

 

 

Art and Discontents

 

A fresh beginning

begins with new sights

or new insights.

Every walk of life

leads to present time.

I see myself orienting

to the artistic canvas,

Pouring myself out

in scars of colorful splashes.

Resting bones

leave the flesh.

I sense a reasoning

that questions

every other question.

Buried lies

do not sprout truths

that heal.

What good is art,

if it does not revive

passion and its discontents?

 

 

Favorable Conditions

 

I am looking

at the inner life

of a wintry afternoon.

I see my old age

in my father’s eyes.

“Do you feel

motherly embrace

in your nest?”

I ask the young bird of

the early morn.

It says flying lessons

are best learned

in a stormy sky.

I don’t blame

my weakness,

but learn to

aim right

and not wait for

any favorable

conditions.

 

 
© Sushant Thapa

Biratnagar-13, Nepal