Fragrance Spreading Spring
A flower
I kept in a flower pot,
The pot of plastic,
With no touch of soil.
Something moved in me.
Every day I felt
A deep suffocating rage
Till the flower
Touched the soil.
Spring arrived late
For me that season
My mind became a snowfield.
My hands were frosted
I lost my fingers.
I wonder how
The flower will touch
The soil.
One midnight I stumbled
On the flower pot,
The pot fell from the balcony
And broke,
It touched the garden soil
And slowly grew
To be the fragrance spreading
Spring.
Rolling Life's Dice
I hear the giggles
Of a sweet childhood
In photographs
That capture a memory
Dull is the unnoticed delight
Yet, the mind does not lie
Listening to the chirping birds
A wine glass in hand
Drips drops of aesthetics
Tipsy is the untried life
I learn to walk straight
As I crawl through life
Heaps of books,
Newspapers
And paintings,
Even painted paperweights
Make a sight
Lots of inner reflection
To sit at the study table
And roll the dice of life.
Trading Shoes
Drowning the fear
I learn to swim
I face the mirror
It shrinks to dew
I miss the maple leaf
Before the dew dries
On it
Autumn is a musical
Rustling leaf
A childhood paper boat
Misses the rain
In the compound
Tea stalls house more stories
Than a library
In a verbose town.
I remember the story
Of a worn out umbrella
That cried
When you got wet in rain
The earth seems burning
When you lose faith
Divine blessings
Are philosophies
That ask you to
Hold each other
And maybe walk the first mile
And trade shoes.
Digital Distraction
Digital distraction
Keeps me alone.
A silent solitude
Becomes a noisy park.
I see bots and cartoonish faces
No healing rain.
A sense of false accomplishment,
We need to pretend
There is no Wi-Fi ,
We need to talk to each other.
All other validations,
All other relationships corrode.
There are sometimes
When I don't feel like writing.
Now, as I type, I feel the same.
Did I approach properly?
Did I convey my priorities?
I question my realities too.
I am alone,
Yet another game of listening
To the voices of distractions.
Bio: Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet and fiction writer from Biratnagar-13, Nepal,
with ten books of poems to his credit and two books of short stories. The books of poems
are: The Poetic Burden and Other Poems (Authorspress, New Delhi, 2020), Abstraction
and Other Poems (impspired, UK, 2021), Minutes of Merit (Haoajan Publishers,
Kolkata, 2021), Love's Cradle (World Inkers Printing and Publishing, New York, New
York, Dakar, Senegal, 2023), Spontaneity: A New Name of Rhyme (Ambar Publication
House, New Delhi, 2023), Chorus of Simplicity and Other New Poems (Ukiyoto
Publishing, Philippines, India, USA, 2024), Finding My Soul in Kathmandu (Ukiyoto
Publishing, Philippines, India, USA, 2024), My Grandfather Had Been a Cowboy
(Ukiyoto Publishing, Philippines, India, USA, 2025), The Walking Rebel (Transcendent
Zero Press, Houston, Texas, USA, 2025) and When I Desire and Other Poems (Ukiyoto
Publishing, Philippines, India, USA, 2026).
His first collection of flash fiction and short stories is titled "The One Rupee Taker and
Other Stories from Nepal" published by Ukiyoto Publishing in 2024. His second
collection of short stories is titled "The White Dot and Other Stories" published by
Transcendent Zero Press based in Houston, Texas, USA in 2026.
Thapa holds an M.A. in English from Jawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi, India.
Curriculum Development Center has approved a poem by Sushant Thapa titled
"Festivities" to be taught in Grade 6 in Nepal. It is included in the book Paragon
English. He poems are widely published in online and print.
Sushant has also edited two anthologies: Tales of Love An Anthology of Erotic Stories
(as an editor), published by Ukiyoto Publishing, 2025, he has co-edited Shivers in the
Dark An Anthology of Horror Stories, published by Ukiyoto Publishing, 2025 and he is
the co-editor of The Transgender World Volume I, which is edited by Monalisa Parida.
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