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Best Poems From
BED PRAKASH BHATTA
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9.
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Ginger, Garlic And The Children
Beautiful are some-
with love.
with care.
with support.
with wealth.
with health.
with education.
with devotion.
with affection.
with perception.
Many knock the doors,
of the God.
Have the talks with the grandma,
lighting the matchsticks to see the haven.
Had not the girl,
faced the cold.
Had not the poor-ism,
prevailed at such a fold.
Had not the wishes,
met the floor.
Had not the drearies,
touched the shore.
A cry,
a cut-
a plea;
an urge.
Dark eyes seek the wideness,
to enrich the vision-
to have the perfectionism,
to build the momentum.
As the rickshaw driver,
'Won't thank us for the dollar, '
No being at the survival,
would ammend the provision of brawler.
Exchanged,
changed is the change.
Hundred for the seventy,
being the stuff strangely strange.
Need why the chopping,
if the nearby plays the violin-
and you don't;
cause you haven't got the money.
Night,
why it comes-
is it to increase the sorrow;
or for the renaissance.
Lying,
on the grounds of the court-
of nature;
of the near ones.
Why is there the division,
why is there the filth-
why is there the trouble;
why is there the guilt?
In the early morning,
when eyes are wide open;
why doesn't the softness sub-due -
why doesn't the dew startle?
As for such,
a world is to be renewed-
Where restrictions would fly freely;
where songs would be perpetuated.
Cheeks would never,
feel the lacrymals'.
That would be the identity,
of the eternal happiness.
Deceived are some-
from love.
from care.
from support.
from wealth.
from health.
from education.
from devotion.
from affection.
from perception.
In the grounds of reality,
deceits are to be made!
Handledwith the utmost-
future is to cared.
A child,
runs with the 'clap-pi-laries' -
Not,
with the capillaries.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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10.
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Her September, The 2nd
People waiting at the terminal,
with the hopes of return.
Once they enter the vehicle,
everything's going to burn.
Wonder not of the black bag,
it has got to rest.
Tears for the beloved-
and implanter's fest.
Three, two and one-
her life has gone.
She did the practical of physics,
Einstein, Otto Hahn and all.
See them handling the bomb-
at the perpetrators call.
Sad for the whole day,
and intimate at home.
Would she at such an age-
tell us her departure for tomb.
Killers!
Murderers! !
Terrorists! ! !
You all damn culprits! ! ! !
Show up your faces,
you sons of bitches.
Flash your identity-
you dwellers of ditches.
You know to shatter the skulls,
you know to crack the bones.
You know the taste of blood-
you know to murder the God!
You love to kill,
you love to make a pulp.
Whoever you are,
wherever you are.
Spit up in the sky-
and let it fall on your face.
Take a hammer,
and inser nails on your brain.
Open up the cranium-
Look! Cowdung there in has made you insane.
Her soul is somewhere nearby,
asking those terrorists-
What was her guilt?
What was her mistake?
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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11.
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Love And The Wind
Looking through the glass pane,
I saw you.
Sharing your lips with a guy,
Who stood firm in the deeds.
I did admire it,
really.
Really you did a great job,
Do accept my wishes.
Some day,
you embraced with your utmost.
Some day,
you hated the sturdy boast.
Some day,
you found love in me.
Some day,
we made the decree.
Some day,
you held my hands.
Some day,
we exchanged the thanks.
Now,
I found you.
I found you-
I found your heart.
Share your body as well,
Then-
I will congratulate you.
I'll love you to the fullest.
You know,
hurricane does destroy living.
It can shake the blood-
but this determination is unshakeable.
Few days ago,
you knew your companion.
Few days ago,
you threw your heart.
I congratualte you,
not coldly.
See the warmth in my words,
Yeah dear- I congratulate you.
Let the minds roll,
Let the time crawl.
Let the life run-
Let not your fun drown.
I won't feel guilt,
because there's no matter of satisfaction.
Won't I feel the guilt,
as you dwindled in your devotion.
You made a thrill,
you had the 'bull's eye.'
You fixed the arrow-
you did kill the innocence.
Wash your face,
Rinse your brain.
Find what are you here for,
Find what you desire for.
Greatness of you,
greatness of your act.
I thought that was just a rain,
I didn't realise the wind along.
Wind;
blow away the love.
Blow to the land-
where hatred and betray never prevail.
Wind-
blow away on your own...
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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12.
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Remains Of A Remembrance
It moved,
as if it was alive.
The wind swept the body-
into the ocean.
Corals attached to it,
and sea anemones all around.
It was kissed by the starfish-
and loved by the octopuses.
Hammer heads rinsing their jaws,
dolphins surrounding its periphery.
It was at the ocean bed-
with its eyes closed.
It was intact,
saving its mouth.
Which was squeezed-
and thoroughly bleeding.
It had null oxygen demand,
as it had turned blue.
Muscles were being snatched-
and the cranium desired to flow.
The divers went deep,
and found it.
It had one closed fist-
and that had a lot to tell.
There it was-
the image of its beloved.
She was smiling-
at such a condition.
She never loved it,
and even if she loved-
that was her terrible mistake,
a mistake of the long past.
All at an instant,
its eyes opened.
It smiled-
and played with the fairies.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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