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Best Poems From
BED PRAKASH BHATTA
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9.
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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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10.
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Speaking Hiroshima And Nagasaki
A stray matter,
ruined two lives.
A suicide-bomber,
blew the Sunni tribes.
A night when,
plans were being finalised.
Two innocents loked over the border,
and they saw the thunder
wnich was hurling
hurrying at its pace-
and suddenly the air was the nightmare.
But,
as the night grew
up, up and above;
a star died halfway in the galaxy
and it merged into the source.
Viewed the time,
was the new morning-
but there was darkness;
there was mourning,
there was disgust,
there was the captive being beheaded.
Listened off Palestine,
listened off Israel;
listened off the Gulf.
Searched the Alps of devotion-
I only found Tethes and the 'wonder stone.'
The path we desire,
is it the new beginning?
is it the 'everentiation? '
is it the 'shift of amoeboid? '
Have we the associations
and the grand ones.
Have we the third generation-
and the sustainable plans.
Some shrines are blown,
some mosques are withered.
Some temples meet the ruins;
Churches speak the same.
Apes,
teach us the lesson-
Neanderthals, Ramapithecus and all;
make us the Homo sapiens.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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11.
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The Shining Village
A lake in the middle,
with inhabitants hundred.
A way through the forests-
with land mines all around.
Some day people realize,
one of their kins is missing.
They trace the footprints of the child-
and find portions of his clothing.
The land mine,
he stepped on.
Blew him apart-
and separated his body.
Catherine and Hameed,
studied at a same school.
But they had a dispute over a tiny matter-
and that was enough for young minds to separate.
Catherine left school,
and Hameed went to the forests.
That was when-
he stepped on that terrible thing.
His leg was there,
and rest was grinded.
His life has gone-
and the village hasn't yet shone.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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12.
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Traces Of Perpetuation
Yesterday in the dreams,
I saw a tree weeping at its best.
Asked the cause of screams-
The axe did all the rest.
Its xylem and phloem were splitting,
it was shivering with cold.
But the being was going on cutting-
Thinking for the family and the gold.
The branches were involuntary,
the leaves just kissing the earth.
The tree had marked the centenary,
and now it needed a new birth.
All at once,
the gloomy clouds came in the sky.
The chopper firm at its stance-
ignored the messenger's spy.
The place did warm,
with the tree's demise.
Human did nothing but harm-
to the nature's oxygenating device.
And along all these,
the glaciers have learnt to melt.
Struggle for the environmental peace-
and approach for conservation, everybody has felt.
Don't we see the floods?
Don't we see the landslides?
Don't we see the temperature rise?
Don't we see the fate of the future?
And if we desire sustainability,
if we want the ocean to remain calm.
The thing we have to seek is-
perpetuation in every palm.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
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