—Poetry by Sushant Thapa, Biratnagar-13, Nepal
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
Life is an art
For the admirers.
It is a long walk
Of struggle.
The sun sets
On your horizon
The light gets dim.
Living takes courage,
The survival is necessary.
Many voices of the crowd
Sing in struggle.
The long walk of agony
If won can be your lifelong smile.
The beauty of life
Is in living,
Not being a mannequin
In a showroom.
Joy and spring
Whistle and games
MY MOTHER
The day I pronounced
The word "Mumma"
I caressed the world.
My world found
A living life
In the garden
Of your motherhood.
Every delicate flower cast
Relief spells in your garden.
The tough fortune
Found the shining sun
In your motherly embrace.
You taught me to beautify life,
With cherishing seeds of hope.
Like an art
Binding its learner
You opened up my world
Like a blooming lotus.
You taught me the steps of patience
To learn something
From adversity.
MY HOUSE
My House is an old heritage,
It is a classic spot.
The wooden windows bring
The playful spring.
The snow isn’t a pain in the eye.
My house is my poetry
I flow in its expression.
I wonder if I lived in a rich mansion
My poetry would lose its way.
I live in an old house
And read a new book.
My comfort is the faded color
Of my house.
I smile in every waking dawn
When the poets from the past
Meet in a classic spot
Of my house.
Ginsberg and his generational madness
In the poem, Howl,
Neruda and his poem, "Here I Love You"
Shine for my eternal stay.
To the paradise of contentment.
EDUCATION
A lesson from the golden days,
Graded dreams
In a paper of effort—my certificates.
A moral happiness
A proper treatment
To cultivate humanity.
I ask you the story of your pain
To soothe.
I have a heart to offer
To your tears.
Take away my richness.
You have dug a rich man's grave
In search of life.
I can offer you education
To appreciate life.
The cloud of ignorance—
The prisoners of Plato's Cave.
Come seek my hands,
My sermons of healing hemlock
Will bring a new dawn.
Let’s exchange teachings of life
And walk with the steps of learning.
SOCIETY
I have my cultural ideals
In a necessity of time.
Around me, the humanity thrives.
On the contrary,
My society is stuck in fame of display.
Today, the song of communication
Is my first communion.
I rise like a Phoenix
And the flame soothes me.
You have found me,
My society.
I offer you my hand
I see you are fine
On the screen of your attire.
Come be my guide
To adapt me
And make me a part of your learnings.
I need a social book
Inside my classroom.
On the other hand,
I teach life lessons
Out in the social world.
INNER PEACE
I saw my insights
That color my pain
I questioned not
The carpet of my freedom
Where it goes and
What it covers?
My soul speaks the truth
Of my desire.
I have been in conversation
With my healing sadness
It has taught me lessons
Enough to go on and on.
The waves of the sea
Have washed my pain,
My life is an answer
To the riddle of time.
Come let's cherish the moments.
We have different ways
But the same destination
That leads to inner peace.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart.
... live in the question.
―Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
___________________
—Medusa, with thanks to poet Sushant Thapa for today’s fine poetry!
A reminder that
D. R. Wagner and Dave Boles
will read at Sacramento’s
Archival Gallery & Framing
today, 1pm; and City Lights Bookstore
in San Francisco will celebrate its
70th Anniversary today with a reading
from 1-5pm in Kerouac Alley.
For info about these and other
upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.
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!
destroys the temple—