—Poetry by Sushant Thapa, Biratnagar, Nepal
—Photos by Katy Brown, Davis, CA
MEDLEY
Blowing like the fiery wind
Rolling like the brakeless stone
Waking for the restlessness
Standing like a mountain
Flowing like the wild stream
Love is a journey that mixes all;
It is like a medley of songs,
A shade of colors that sings of its display.
A blue sky for aim
A wide sea for casting the net of desire.
Again, a message in a heart-shaped box
Waiting to be opened.
Scent of spring,
Hues of the blooming magnetic air
Drawing close steps of togetherness
To share the pace of eventful happiness
One step further.
The garden of love is a book of life
Each page is a poem of affection
Sharpening the care and
Guarding a safe harbor of
Mutual sweet songs sung in
Events of fulfilling ease and arising grace.
Blowing like the fiery wind
Rolling like the brakeless stone
Waking for the restlessness
Standing like a mountain
Flowing like the wild stream
Love is a journey that mixes all;
It is like a medley of songs,
A shade of colors that sings of its display.
A blue sky for aim
A wide sea for casting the net of desire.
Again, a message in a heart-shaped box
Waiting to be opened.
Scent of spring,
Hues of the blooming magnetic air
Drawing close steps of togetherness
To share the pace of eventful happiness
One step further.
The garden of love is a book of life
Each page is a poem of affection
Sharpening the care and
Guarding a safe harbor of
Mutual sweet songs sung in
Events of fulfilling ease and arising grace.
ODE TO YOU
Waking up is a part,
Pieces that try to form a complete whole.
When the dream is watched
The rising event is the aftermath
Filled with vigour, unlike your love.
Having met your say
You have parted ways.
I remained knocking on open doors,
Still uninvited.
Let me drown in remembrances
And forget the erasure of your memory.
What I fathom is the depth
The surface of love
Calls for whistling waves
That become guiding voices.
To create an eventful departure
The tunes of melancholy
Becomes a symphony bleeding
On the piano keys.
To recall you singing
I write my ode to you.
BLESSED BY NATURE
There is a bountiful treasure unrevealed
Which equally is a measure of
Desolate but fresh underpinnings;
A nascent recall of presence flowering
With its own hues and flowing
Like its own cascade.
I marvel at the world
A glory is reflected
A disguise again is volatile
Traces are shy to meet eyes
That struggle to rise.
When a garden stroll is admiration
The fragrances nod in approval to the walk.
A fragmentary reveal of the pages
That script and get careful fold marks
Kept for searching the rays of guidance
The page that you scripted are onlooking
And laying the gaze of red-rosed carpet;
They guide you when you
Begin your journey.
The morning dust
Erased by the wind
Of day-long commitment startles
And boils for the next day
Which brings its own sky.
Desire is not the appendage
Of worn-out tools
It has its shape moulded like
A vessel of fortune with more rooms.
A discovery awaits for the learner
His time ticks with marks of merriment
Only the artificial soul worries
About its grey wounds,
Nature blesses the efforts of true seekers.
CHANGES AND ACCEPTANCE
I rectify my errors
I reclaim what is a key to liberate
There is a shared agony
A culture that misses the path
We seek and wander
The meanings ponder talk of acceptance
Weakened by the fragility of time
Amuck the spring returns
The treasure it brings!
Freely my words blow
The pages script the night
Which I do not wish to exchange.
This is my recollection
A moment of reflection.
The darkness does not
Conceal the conscience
Do you care to hear the game of whisper?
Poetry bleeds the ballad of wishes
The blue grief is a plucked red rose
Of satisfaction with wishes of offering.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Beliefs divide us; values unit us.
—Jeff Rasley
___________________
Our thanks to returning poet Sushant Thapa for visiting the Kitchen today, clear from the other side of the world~ As he says, “The garden of love is a book of life / Each page is a poem of affection . . .” And as always, thanks to Katy Brown for her outstanding flowers! "Hues of the blooming magnetic air . . ."
•••This Sun. (4/10), 3pm: Lincoln Poets features Stanley Zumbiel plus open mic on Zoom at us02web.zoom.us/j/87466015982/. (Meeting ID: 874 6601 5982; Passcode: 766105). Host: David Anderson.
___________________
—Medusa
. . . so much depends . . .
—Photo by Katy Brown
—Photo by Katy Brown
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
