New Poems: Sushant Thapa

The Sky of Pain 

 

When I am not your day                                       

I am not the sun 

Of the winter. 

 

When it is all said and done 

I am the flowerpot without 

Any flower. 

 

Keep me in your scream 

I am not the silence of eternity. 

 

I want to listen 

Like the walls 

That surround you. 

 

I am resting in the field of feelings 

I am wandering in the jungle of 

Quiet love. 

 

When the war is called 

The sky does not want 

To be a mute spectator.

 

The clouds change shape 

In agony. 

 

Ours is the survival for safety

Yet, the hefty scars are painted. 

 

 

 

Free Steps 

 

Take note 

Of how you 

Devote your life. 

 

There is a saying 

That says 

Silence is best 

When it heals you. 

 

Otherwise, 

Speak up being 

Dumb and daring.

 

The Om which you chant 

Is another world, 

That you care to 

Be free with.

 

Move away with 

Any duplicity, 

Let original ideas 

Be your roof. 

 

Imagination is my window 

That does not betray me 

With nothingness. 

 

I am not the outlaw

But if your proclaim freedom 

I will attach myself, 

 

Who knows if that attachment 

Can make me free? 

 

 

 

Mindset of Creativity 

                                                                                        

You do not read

You do not know 

When creativity knocks 

At your door? 

 

The mind gets swept away

And emptiness echoes. 

 

You do not write 

You think might 

Is always right. 

 

You have to flow 

With the emotions 

In their liquid state.

 

You do not listen 

You mistake 

The blues for a lesson. 

 

I walk with muddy boots. 

I keep away 

The gentle cry, 

And it is musical 

When it does not sigh. 

 

 

 

Never Reaching 

 

A boring day 

Does wear the cloak 

Of silence. 

 

Music is what you crave

It is like lights

That are for festivals. 

 

Music and light 

The two humming mantra 

Leading to worldly salvation, 

A transcendental feeling. 

 

Words do the rest, 

They are the trident 

Of faith, 

Deeply rooted. 

 

At least the saffron color is holy

Its dust is even valuable gold. 

 

I look for a tempo of spontaneity 

Words are the mirrors 

Of inner soul. 

 

The healing sutra is what 

The town never knows 

In its speed of coming and going 

But never reaching,

To a single destination. 

 

The world spins in its every day. 

 

 

Life full of Sky

 

 

The sun shines 

On emptiness. 

 

It is doing a favor 

In being the beginning

Of many undreamy things. 

 

A call for the wandering wind 

To go wild, 

A call for the wind

To find its home. 

 

I cast a long glance 

On my career 

It has not found 

Its room. 

 

What is a long life

If it is not lived 

In many small moments. 

 

I saw you 

On the corner 

Of reality,

You were still 

Hiding your art. 

 

Step forward, 

Pick up the courage 

From the floor 

Of nothingness.

 

Be the stars 

In your life 

Full of sky.