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A Collection of 20 poems
Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar
Poet from Nepal
An Old Railway Line

In the death chamber confines

The soul of my mind
Handcuffed by tragedy
Sentenced to death penalty
Just close to a blink of my eyes
With an illusionary greetings
Of long lives
Standing before me
Face to face – My death.

Startled I’m like the whirl

Of the breeze on cobwebs
Hanging in every corner
Of this death chamber
Not in use for centuries
Neither I can blink my eyes
Nor breathe my breath

Asleep is the fireplace

With only ashes
Decomposed in wetted firewood
Neither the wisp of fire
Nor the glow of flame.

Rusty hinges on the door

Perforated by rust
Through which holes
Smirk the gloomy bored moon
Seeking shelter for a night
A moment of unpleasant and discontent
Moans like a wild beast
Severe wounds
In inner of the minds
Moans like a cry of spasm
By unwilling sexual desire
Seduced by the enemy
In the defeated war
Echoed from the walls around
Fearing to have an ear
Will shrunk
In the emptiness of the room

At any time the electric shock

May turn the body to ashes
Only a fistful of my breath
Remaining in my body
Will hurried to rebel by
Shattering every words of my poem

Like the old railway lines

Discarded after the war
Hides its originality
In the rust and grassy grooves
Rebels of another kinds
Like the silent crater of sleeping volcano
Erupts and scatters the lava on the earth
Every word of my inner minds
That’s collected in the coarse paper
Only sensed by my wounded heart
Indeed it’s my poem.

Full Stop

Fully occupied I’m in my day-to-day affairs,

While in my office room
Like the magnet attracts iron dusts
The lower soles of my shoes
Turns to be as decade old by
Absorbing the dirt and dust
Settled as sediment in several layers
Under the surface of the carpets
Blanketed over my office room

Really unconscious I’m

For my body fatigued after my day-to-day works
As my office time elapsed,
In hurry and harsh to reach my home quick,
My fatigued legs holding my shoes
Forgets to dust off the dirt and dust
From the soles of my shoes
In the jute mattress outside of my office-room

Dirt and dust settled under the jute carpets

Having free access in the light and air
As it likes to behave and it wishes to fly
Get every word of my written poem
Scattered along the way
From my office to my home
The remaining dirt and dust in my shoes is
Thrown away by dusting off my shoes
In the jute mattress outside my home
As full stop to my poem of a day

In trauma I’m for the whole night

My eyes widens as an open window
Shaken by the dirt and dust I sprinkled
Out of my soles of my shoes
On the way between my home and office
I stride every day.
The Upper soles of my shoes picks away
The words of dirt and dust, which
Dreams a lustful passion with the glow
Soaked by dewdrops of the yester morn
And settle down the earth
Like question mark split way from its answer -
The full stop.

Quintessence of Quiescent

Up the polished ceiling above my bed

In my bedroom resting for a while,
A camouflaged lizard crawls his webbed feet
With dead silence in his spider tongue
Hunting a fly nearby in languorous mood
So unconscious of to-be catastrophe
Bony spine of mine chills enough
To freeze my whole body like an ice
For the certainty of yet another calamities
Befalling on my quiet turbid heart
At any moments of my present life.

My desire to rest for a while with

My frightened and horror-stricken mind
Strives to take up its clothes of fright and horror
As if torched with mother of bomb
Runs naked towards the camera lens
With my screams frozen in frame
That unknowingly and unconsciously adheres
To the severe fading wall of my bedroom.

That portrait of mine destined to hide its reality

Sinks in time warped depth of ocean
Damped with futuristic dirt and dust
Wailing a digger to reveal the quintessence of
An embryonic present matured to rare earth
Out of an ovary of pregnant futurity.

The Hollow

Through the broken windowpane

Set my beholding eyes
On an empty room like a wanton whore
In naked beauty more adorned bushy cunt
Lying duped and beguiled on the floor,
Sighing desperately for her heart’s desire
That’s canvassed on the fading wall.

A spider spits and spins his web

In silken and golden fibers so close and tight
As the fabric length tranquilized her sleek satin gown
Bidding to hide her shameful nudity.

Lizards’ crawling up faded steps of walls

Crying tender fervour in spider tongues
Swallowing all insects and beings in thirst throats
Moves out his tongue fiercely passionate watered,
Wishes to copulate with emptiness of the room
Pisses and passes turd spotting
Fierce scars and malodorous stains
All over the walls and grounds
Like the field after the war
Indeed the certainty of yet another war

The spider faces in planet Earth

Living in a home at war,
Lies motionless and breathless
As if dead in other’s eyes
Waiting to track him in silken golden web.

In the tug of war between them,

The webbed room turns ghostly
By the horror of the vampire
Creeping its feet
Through the broken windowpane
Sucking blood in darkness of the sky
That grows fierce with clouds
As curdled as the milk from a whore’s teat
The doors throw bolts into locks
Keeping the withered souls inside
To decay till darkness
Sighing in vain to feel the emptiness.

The Thirsty Throat

My glaring eyes sneak a look at

The clear spring waters
In the water jug (karuwa) –
The pure appearance of my face
Reflected like in the mirror
Strike against the inner surfaces
Split into bits and pieces
With dispersal of rainbow, refracts
The reality in my known face –
Shattered lives of my whole life.
Those bits and pieces of my living
Soldered together in rhymes
Frozen my poems into iceberg
Stand up firmly like snowy peak
Clear and transparent in its life
The clichéd words melt into water
Flow in currents of the river and
Rest in the bed of the ocean.

The straight waterways from

The top of mountain to the ocean bed
Condensed from the veins of the nature
Passes through stones pebbles, sands and clays
Pours to the brim in water jug
The pure spring water
From the mouth of the water jug
Like the cool waterfall falls to
My thirsting throat.

Yab Yum

My faithful heart surrenders

To the current of time passing by
For my single humane body
Being virtually divided in two forms -
One resembles to my own masculinity
And another to her femininity
Just opposite to my own being.
Not being able to differentiate me
Of both sexes in character, structure and function.

Quite astonished I am
For my introductory face
Half beautified with moustache
And another half naturally clean
For my boasted breast
Half adorned with a flat organ
And another half with bosomed bust
For my groin
Half adored with testis
And another half with glowed cunt
In my whole body
Half grown with hairs coursed all over
And another half beauteous clean
In my heads
Half grown with male hair
And another half with long hairs
Alas! Do pity me for
Nature of my humane
Of no disintegration of both sexes
Undetached and undistinguished.

As the time passes

Like the lighting in the thundering rain
I experienced a fertile root
Blossoming under my groin
Over her smooth lush womb.

A strange passionate bisexuality

I feel by forcing myself to bleed
Flowing spills gently
Out of my wetted groin over her lush cunt.
Feeling the deep exertion of a living breath

For satisfying my amazing lust

To clutch at her bosomed breast
Flows a stream of sweet milk
To scream at my heartiest heart
Adores sweet babe
With an umbilical chord to her womb -
Of a human, of a nation.


Taking off my shoes

Entered into
The room of darkness
Like the shiny black satin
Slipped from her shoulder
Exposing the tender flesh
Hungered with living passion
Burning like hot red iron
Hammered to work out
The pattern of my poem
That shines like whitey silky moon
In the open sky at midnight

Fearing so much of
Hurting the silence
Shrouded in the dark night
I plunge my feet
Soft as petal and light as air
On the darkness -
No footprints glimpse on
Tender skins of her body,
But my feet burnt red
I didn’t care the pain
For the carnal beauty of my love
Hidden in depth of this darkness.

The night jasmine that blooms

In darkness of the night
Reveals so much beauty
In my eyes
In its bloom that breathes
So much sweet fragrance
But the humming of the death
Mused in my ears
Whirled I’m through the vortex
Of the darkness of the night
To let you hold me in her grasp -
Never I want to born again and again .

The Folklore of the Jungle

Over the branch of a jungle tree

Swinging in the gentle winds lies
The hollow skins peeled off
By a baby cobra, by an allergy
Spreads all over its body
Growing enough to be young.
With its tough and hard efforts,
Struggles for a long period of time
To peel of its first layer of skin
Entirely from its head to tail.
Quite fatigued and hunger-stricken
Baby cobra runs to the jungle
Looking for its food to gobble.

Sensing the hissing by its fresh skin,

Stands erected some feet high
Stir the eyes around the jungle grass
And behold a snake, crippling forward
On the way to its shelter.

Baby cobra hissed with its mouth

Opened as wide as it toughens
Throw its target to the snake’s head
Not aware of any casualty
That may befall at any moment on its way.

Baby Cobra caught sharp the snake’s head

In whole inside its mouth full to bursting,
Swallowed whole from the head to tail
Swelled its body with sufficient space
To devour the whole length of the snake
Larger enough in two fold than itself
To satisfy its thirst of hunger.

Quite boasting of its valour in war,

Baby cobra spreads the skin of its neck
To let all known, quite young it’s grown now
With its length stretched two-half folds
Crawled inside its muddy hole in the grass
To rest for a while in its shelter.

The folklore of the jungle never told before,

None is aware of the reign of the jungle
That has before now crossed the threshold of
To spread like the wildfires to the city.
Turning the jungle itself into its ecstasy.

An Inestimable Fraction

In the Solar system,,

Earth fronts an asteroid
Moving in same orbit
Just parallel to its way
At the same speed as it has
At the same direction
Round the Sun.

Being occupied itself in its orbit

As its regular travel to its orbit,
The earth is quite unaware
From where the asteroid entered,
When it happened to met it
In the orbit of the Sun

The Earth is frightened

As if happened all of a sudden
When the Earth and the asteroid
Exchanged their way of traveling
Just opposite to their orbit
And move on their way around the sun

Only a fraction of a second

Has a difference between them
To exchange their way
Of traveling in their orbit,
Otherwise they collide each other
With a disaster of unknown result
For unexpected ad unwilling
The vast change
In the solar system

Thanks to this precious fraction of a second,

Abominated by them as trifle and nothing,
Which averted the disaster
Beyond their expectation
To befallen on them
To remain as it’s
As if nothing happened
In the Solar system..
The mirage

Flying higher up the sky

Eagle stretches his wings as wide
In the limit of bluish sky
And acts in vain to intervene
The sunlight from kissing the earth
And throw his eyes widened afar
To the earth below

Quite surprised at his own shadow

Thrown over the whole earth
So larger and so wider enough
And too proud of his ability and strength
To occupy the land of nature and green
In his own possession

The eagle
Quite unaware the truth of his shadow
Tired of flying higher up the sky
Falls straight down the earth
Breathing desperately
Takes rest on a piece of the earth
So cool by sorrows knowing the reality
Nothing owned by him
But a few of the earth in his possession
That stuck the claws of his feet

My Battered Soul

No words I’ve to depict

For my battered soul
Snared inside your soul
Yearning to get out of it
Like the script of my poem
Of the languished agony
Burst out of my heart
In a piece of the course paper.
Not known to me,
If my eyes blinded
Or freshly awakened,
My longing for fits of passion,
Fragrances of the flower
And the rustlings of the heartbeat
Swept me far, far away to the place
I never have been to,
Where no other, but silence muses.

My soul, aloof and hidden, is

Shattering, with fresh scratches
All over the skins of the earth,
And vanished in the darkness
Of the dark night soaked with tears.

Moon, not being aware of any sorrow

In its absence, consoles
By showing the deep scratches in its face -
It’s indeed the inner feelings
Of my battered soul.

My Agony

Simile and metaphor in my poem

Substitute for an image of my agony
That I feel hurt by a rift
In fabric length of my soul,
Widened to an unbearable chasm
By the irreparable damage,
Caused by the glowing wounds
In the depth of my hearts.

Striven I’ve in sewing together

The edges between the rifts
By the strongly twisted threads.
But the bad stitches crafted by my hands
Reveal the scratches of the deep scars
That’s not hidden from others’ eyes
Even after my wound hailed.
Occupied I'm in
Veiling this scar in the rhythm
Of the poems created by
My agonized hearts.

An Old Worn Out Shoes

Discarded in the gutter,

Trailed by the way of my journey,
A pair of my old worn out shoes
Never to walk in the streets again.

As my body rolled onto the gurney

To throw me away in the death chamber,

My gnarled toes and feet

Stuck in earth by the burden
Of my head to toe,
Wetted in blood tickling sweats
I create during my whole life.
Tucked inside the shoes,
Never I can take my shoes off from my feet.

Which made every walks of my life

Comfortable in the streets,
Alas! Some one put off my shoes
To throw away in the gutter.

Caught in the Lens

The ebony night crawls

With its webbed feet
On my distressed mind,
To peel off my fusty clothes,
From my fatigued body,
Stinking me like the putrescence
Of my time, and of my life,
Feels me then
As light as feather
Floating up into the azure.
Before my inner eyes,
Barely exposed I’m
In my living portrait
Caught in the lens of camera
Zoomed in and out
To perfect my image
With my own personal touch
Just for hanging in the wall
Of my living room.

Shameless Moon

Moon standing in the dark edge

Of the skyways
Like a shameless whore
Waiting for someone
To be swept by love and lust
Falls her tender beauty
On my bathtub filled with
The crystal clear water
Tranquilized like drunken
Changing itself into mirror
In which her sublimed shadow
Whirled by the whisper of wind
Blurred by the soapy fizzes
Sunken beneath the waves.

With cosmic clouds

Ravished by her unlike beauty
In sheer lunacy turned me down
Like that my mind is drained
As brittle as dry ice on my flesh
Like the dyeing embers
Of smouldering pyre
Every word of my poems
Seemed full of clichés.

The Open Window

Poetry just budding to child

In the embryo of my soul
To step down the earth
Depressed with my accustomed efforts
Of creating poetry –
Declined to emerge as usual
In the coarse paper
To get printed
In same ink of rainbow
By same quill pen
That dazzled the world
As myth and mystery
Of war, terror and hatred
Instead my poetry asked
My inner eyes
To touch the world
Peeping through the open window
Of its eyes – mingling with the glow of dawn.

From this moment stolen by my poetry

My unfortunate poet refrained himself
in creating poetry –
Quite amazing this moment
For the poetry created the poet.


Though my agony is silence in my lips

Every word of your love, hate and pain
That you hit in harsh over me
Never Ifeel my mind hurt
Instead I compile each and every word
In the treasure of my heart
Fearing to lose every bit and piece
Of syllables of these words,
I thread all together as a garland
Of flowers, that beautifies the sky
As the colours of rainbow
Stretched in horizon to horizon
As if binding the earth at my glance
So enticing this poem would be
Never I feel this much in my life.
Wild Goose Chase

My shadow is chasing me
As if chased by the wild goose
Disparately running I’m after
To haunt the dawn for shelter.

In the bed of dark night

Lies her carnal beauty wrapped
In satin black velvet mist
Whispers in my piercing ears
To mesmerize me to sink within her
I slept with the dark night
But awaked by thrust of climax
When I am frozen like an ice
In the darkness of midnight I find
The night has passed other way
Trailed by the day coming
Disheartened I’m by the tragedy
Searching her on all the ways
No footprints I find in the darkness of night
But only twinkling of the stars
Gazing at me mercilessly
I am in the hand of death

An Oven heart

Duck bites the moon

Shining in a broken fence
Escapes in fright
For his peak is hurt
As if struck in stone
Spin a rush of pinched affections
At the point where cotton grew
From hands that picked it

The sparrow bite a bead

Tied in thread
Severely choked up
Neither he can swallow
Nor vomit out;
Flies away with long thread
strung its heart
About the branches in a wild

Let me pull the splinter

From your bite

The Oceanic Blues

In a dream or reality, know not I,

My bare feet stuck on the sands
On the beach of the ocean,
Piercing eyes of mine stares at
Other edge, far away in horizon
Illusory meeting of the sky and sea
Seeking the peace in the blues.

Surfing in the blues and hues

My body and soul feel this much
The calm of the ocean that’s blues
But in this calmness hides the waves
That crash against the rocks
Turning into sands
The flow and ebb tides
That shocks vibrant its surfaces
By the effect of the moon
Desperately I yell, but no one heard
Being pitch of my voice shrunken
In an ailing tongue of mine.

My muffled cry echoes back,

As the dawn crawls in
waves, foamed with whiteness,
No one feels, no one limits
The depth of an ocean waters
That has so much agony to bear
To turn its watery transparency
Into foaming white as the clouds
Struggling with the azure.
Indeed the blues of the ocean
Is the reflection of the sky

Returned back my body and soul

Wrapped with empty minds in despair
Though in pure seclusion
Still thirsting for peace
As the wispy rays of hope
In the secluded nook of my mind.

The Body Worlds

(An event “Koerperwelten” organized by

the creater of the art, Mr. Gunther von
Hagens, in Frankfurt, Germany
exhibiting skinned corpses in art)

So horrified though
Of unique and different art
Exposure of real corpses
With skins peeled off
Arts of bony skeleton that
Outcries severely
The reality of humane –
All humane are same
But some are tall or low
Some are fat or lean
Only the colors depict by
Skins and bloods shrouds
The body of human

Nirvana I’m enlightened

The carnal beauty that I see
Through my beholding eyes
No thing, nothing, but hollow
As the silence of the sky

Not the replicated dead bodies,

But actual the art are from
The Corpses
Outsiders cry the living humane
Dead bodies should laid to rest
In dignified manner
With displaying the wreaths,
Coffins and tombstones
No business with death
No gallery of horror.