|
|
|
Best Poems From
BED PRAKASH BHATTA
|
|
| |
|
|
17.
|
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
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
18.
|
Unveling Rampur: In Our Way
The thirteen days of stay,
and the preparation for entrance.
Walking along the forest weeds-
and turning the pages of 'glance'.
With friends,
mutual than ever.
With studies,
now or never.
Those pre-exams,
and orientations did pass.
We studied with fun-
attending seniors' class.
The fun with dear LMC
and lovely disputes with MG.
The visit to the cafe
and walks with full energy.
The smokes of heaven,
and liquors of the good old shop.
The chemistry between our friend,
and the shop owner's daughter.
The night strides with companions,
the envy for a position.
The support of our elders,
the nature's nourishment.
The mess,
the PG canteen.
The red book,
and the doc jokes.
The hallucination,
and desire for the future.
The last day,
and the program.
The result,
and our feelings.
The air,
and its song.
The tragedy,
of shop owner's daughter.
The tie,
of the marks.
The boast,
of the securers.
The success,
of the failure.
The worry,
of own marks.
The dawn departure,
the struggle for a carrier.
The bitter separation,
still turns out a dream union.
How can I ever forget?
How shall I ever forget?
Gyanendra, Narayan and Devendra;
Rupesh, Sagar and Raj Kumar;
Darwin, Dinesh and LMC;
Briz, Saroj and Manoj;
BabuRam and all who came for a nobel cause.
How can we forget that green,
how can we forget cherishing those memories?
Because we have lived,
and gone through all these
we have had a life
which has been a history
with this time
we are apart
yet
we believe
we have unveiled ourselves
and my deep love
for everyone I got in touch to.
Yes! dear friends-
it's not the end
because the picture's not over yet.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
| |
|
|
19.
|
Void
this avalanche
that youve created
that I have manifested
is gulping us down.
shared so much
and now theres nothing to share
cared so long
and theres no reason to care
I have felt you deep inside
and called you with love
we had been going
all the way along
perfect and smooth
and now there are these constrictions
these gaps in exchange of thoughts
I have loved you, been with you all the while
and now the words do not fall
the words do not come
the lips do not move
we are not what we were
we are seeking a new beginning.
Bed Prakash Bhatta
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|