Clean Slate
A long walk to keep up
The sun by my side.
Shadows linger like
Dust in my shoulder.
The way is sandy,
It took me forever to
Let go of the lock
That cages freedom
In a room.
I have to write,
I have to keep up
The heartfelt sensations.
Hearts don't lie.
In conversation with myself
I found you.
Yes, a bit of myself in you,
And my imagination.
Imagination is musical
And I tune my instrument
For it.
I play the dusty life
And make it a clean slate.
I again say that
I wish to play with my abstraction.
Faded Time
I am at the gate.
I have passed by like
A silent river.
I percolate,
I make murmurs
As I cut through the stones
By my wave.
Pour me a melancholic assurance
And throw away
The plastic happiness.
I am like air,
I am a relentless pursuit.
My music is
The soul's synchrony.
I follow your dark path,
Holding your hand with
All your mighty trust.
I picture the future,
Where the sun excuses itself
For an evening shade.
The merciful heat
Lets us through a narrow shade
Of romance.
Life goes on through its faded time.
Love is Forgiveness
The mind takes offence
When it is shut.
A home becomes inhospitable
When it is full of jargons.
Jargons of relationship,
Jargons of care that cages,
Instead of dreams that color
The black and white life.
I understand how the first affection spoke,
When guiding hands
Lighted the lamp.
The primordial fire
Still blesses us.
If the world falls apart,
We take it as it is,
We are doomed anyhow
So let’s look at the stars tonight
And feel the heaven
In the grain of sand.
It is easy to see the war,
And hard to forget.
Why wage war?
Why kill innocent lives?
This evening I am shattered
Yet, I write of love.
It is a rebellious living.
This heart is a garden
Where some plants wither and die,
Without the care,
Without the affection,
Without the easy breath.
Love is forgiveness too,
I hope the war-mongers
Learn to love.
Every Saint in Me
What it takes to be happy?
A glittering night
An open sky,
The music that distracts
For good,
A slight breeze,
A new poem
That gets written
In the heart first.
I tune my heart of stone,
I extract nectar from
The figurative night
That is so symbolic
To be the god’s work of art.
A solitary darkness
Is a colorful meaning
For interpretative brightness,
No other darkness is more
Interpretative and thus Meaningful.
I wake up to the moonlight
And my soul trapped
In the musical soothing.
You arrive in bits,
I spill my paint
In the canvas,
Just like those bits.
Every curve and curse
Is thrilling,
Every saint in me
Is a sinner
In someone else’s court.
I count the blessings
Of a day,
A mind full of spring,
Even when winter
Treats me like an outcast.
Figuring Out the Mystery
Society tells you
A safe corner isn’t a place to be.
But you are on the road
To create yourself.
You would have bought the sky
And the stars,
When you stray and go
On your own,
They script a discipline chart
For you.
I want to traverse pure
Maybe a slight blues would console.
I keep the music on loop,
Try to figure out the meanings
Of my dwellings afar,
These lyrics don’t die,
There is poetry in the first glance
Of the open door,
I invite truth,
Even if it is painful.
Crossroads make a beautiful memory.
I plan nothing,
Because I love to figure out
The mystery.
Filling its Emptiness
Rest assured
Unspoken pauses
Are to be understood.
The world leaves its gaps,
The height
Of scientific development
Has been all the achievements
Of nuclear warfare.
It is a mere power
That can corrupt,
The propaganda is not
A communication strategy.
Bullet holes leave death marks.
I am the dark alley
Where majority walk.
I will not buy your hatred
Even if it feeds me,
With delicacies.
The void keeps thinking
How to go deep
And fill its emptiness.
Bio: Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet with nine books of English poems and one short story collection to his credit. His poems are published at Bold Monkey Review, Trouvaille Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Corporeal Lit Mag, etc. He is a lecturer of English in Biratnagar, Nepal.
