The Mother – Deepak Kumar Pattanayak

Holy holier-divinely; 
Things are with her 
As perceived and adorned gracefully 
Lots of love and lots of pity 
Along she is carrying 
Of quintessence motherly 
In her exemplified 
The feminine persona so lovely 
More and more and not less 
I see and God confess 
She is holier than me 
Sent to care your needs 
Alleviate your sufferings 
Brighten your dreams 
Like an Angel in the morning 
Seen among lovely flowers 
Caressing and them preparing 
To see a beautiful day dawning 
And the day passed off peacefully 
Unto noon and evening 
And seen her bidding children 
Good-night with words so soothing 
Oh mother! what you are 
Made of which stuff so rare 
For me and for all 
You weep your tears 
A drop falls on him 
Another on her 
A dozen on them 
A few goes out 
To form an ocean 
Of love for your children 
Unto I would love 
Diving deep to die even 
For not in vain will go 
Your love and affection 
My dear my mother 
You are, I swear 
As good as heaven…… 

A Bride – Deepak Kumar Pattanayak

Upon the verge; 
Of some new dawn 
You blossom to be a woman 
And a bride of a man 
An angel of love and light 
Pure and faithful you become 
Bound soul to soul 
By life’s holiest laws 
Sent out from Heaven’s source 
Glow like a star on its course 
Abandon playthings of life 
To be entrusted noble work 
Of woman and of wife 
You are so happy now 
To be merged with someone’s life 
Tender smiles shine 
And lofty thoughts creep in 
Yet on promised land 
Of love and happiness 
Flowers blossom and perish 
Good and bad days rally 
May fall saddest tears daily 
But with love and love only 
You may sail through storm of life easily…………….

Hidden – Naomi Shihab Nye

If you place a fern 
under a stone 
the next day it will be 
nearly invisible 
as if the stone has 
swallowed it. 

If you tuck the name of a loved one 
under your tongue too long 
without speaking it 
it becomes blood 
the little sucked-in breath of air 
hiding everywhere 
beneath your words. 

No one sees 
the fuel that feeds you. 

Summer – John Clare

Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover’s breast;
She sits beneath the white thorn a-plaiting of her hair,
And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;
I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,
And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.

The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,
The merry bee is trampling the pink threads all day,
And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest
In the white thorn bush where I will lean upon my lover’s breast;
I’ll lean upon her breast and I’ll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o’sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.

Any Night – Philip Levine

Look, the eucalyptus, the Atlas pine,
the yellowing ash, all the trees
are gone, and I was older than
all of them. I am older than the moon,
than the stars that fill my plate,
than the unseen planets that huddle
together here at the end of a year
no one wanted. A year more than a year,
in which the sparrows learned
to fly backwards into eternity.
Their brothers and sisters saw this
and refuse to build nests. Before
the week is over they will all
have gone, and the chorus of love
that filled my yard and spilled
into my kitchen each evening
will be gone. I will have to learn
to sing in the voices of pure joy
and pure pain. I will have to forget
my name, my childhood, the years
under the cold dominion of the clock
so that this voice, torn and cracked,
can reach the low hills that shielded
the orange trees once. I will stand
on the back porch as the cold
drifts in, and sing, not for joy,
not for love, not even to be heard.
I will sing so that the darkness
can take hold and whatever
is left, the fallen fruit, the last
leaf, the puzzled squirrel, the child
far from home, lost, will believe
this could be any night. That boy,
walking alone, thinking of nothing
or reciting his favorite names
to the moon and stars, let him
find the home he left this morning,
let him hear a prayer out
of the raging mouth of the wind.
Let him repeat that prayer,
the prayer that night follows day,
that life follows death, that in time
we find our lives. Don’t let him see
all that has gone. Let him love
the darkness. Look, he’s running
and singing too. He could be happy.

Prem Sanket – Rabindra Nath Thakur

प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम हो जो पात–पातमा स्वर्णाभा
बनेर चम्किरहेछ !
जसले लोसे मेघ आकाशमा जम्मा भइरहेछन्, सुवासित पवनले मेरो
मस्तिष्कमा जलकण छर्छ :
यमि सबै, हे मनमोहन ईश्वर ! तिम्रो प्रेम नै हो ।

आज प्रभातका आकाश–धाराले मेरा नयन भरिए :
यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो जो जीवनका कण–कणमा व्याप्त छ ।
तिम्रो चेहरा निहुरियो,
तिम्रो नेत्र मेरा नेत्रसँग मिले :
मेरो ह्दयले तिम्रो चरणमा स्पर्श गरिसक्यो !
प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो ।

Sankalpa – Rabindra Nath Thakur

प्राणका प्राण ! म मेरो देहलाई चोखो राख्छु, किनकि मेरा अंग–
प्रत्यंगमा तिम्रो स्पर्श भएको छ !

आफ्ना विचारलाई असत्यले धमिलो पार्न दिनेछैन, किनकि तिमीले
सत्यको दीपकद्वारा मेरो विवेक प्रकाशित गरिदियौ !

म मेरो ह्दयमा पापलाई पस्नदिन्न, किनकि त्यहाँ तिम्रो मूर्ति
प्रतिष्ठासहित विद्यमान छ !
मेरा सबै काममा तिम्रो व्यक्तित्व हुनेछ, तिम्रो प्ररणानै रहनेछ !

Come To My Pavilion – Mirabai

Come to my pavilion, O my King.
I have spread a bed made of
delicately selected buds and blossoms,
And have arrayed myself in bridal garb
From head to toe.
I have been Thy slave during many births,
Thou art the be-all of my existence.
Mira’s Lord is Hari, the Indestructible.
Come, grant me Thy sight at once.

Mira is Steadfast – Mirabai

I will not be restrained now, O Rana,
Despite all you do to block my path.

I have torn off the veil of worldly shame;
Only the company of Saints is dear to me.

Merta, my parents’ home, I have left for good.
My surat and nirat, awakened,
Now shine bright.

My master has revealed to me
The mirror within my own body;
Now I’ll sing and dance in ecstasy.

Keep to your self your gems and jewelry;
I have discarded them all, O Rana.

My true Lord I have come to behold;
None knows of this wealth within the body.

I fancy not your forts and palaces
Nor want silken robes wrought with gold.

Mira, unadorned and unbedecked,
Roams intoxicated in the Lord’s love.

A Great Yogi – Mirabai

In my travels I spent time with a great yogi.
Once he said to me.
“Become so still you hear the blood flowing
through your veins.”

One night as I sat in quiet,
I seemed on the verge of entering a world inside so vast
I know it is the source of
all of

The Lament Of The Old Nurse – Aeschylus

Our mistress bids me with all speed to call
Aegisthus to the strangers, that he come
And hear more clearly, as a man from man,
This newly brought report. Before her slaves,
Under set eyes of melancholy cast,
She hid her inner chuckle at the events
That have been brought to pass–too well for her,
But for this house and hearth most miserably,–
As in the tale the strangers clearly told.
He, when he hears and learns the story’s gist,
Will joy, I trow, in heart. Ah, wretched me!
How those old troubles, of all sorts made up,
Most hard to bear, in Atreus’s palace-halls
Have made my heart full heavy in my breast!
But never have I known a woe like this.
For other ills I bore full patiently,
But as for dear Orestes, my sweet charge,
Whom from his mother I received and nursed . . .
And then the shrill cries rousing me o’ nights,
And many and unprofitable toils
For me who bore them. For one needs must rear
The heedless infant like an animal,
(How can it else be?) as his humor serve
For while a child is yet in swaddling clothes,
It speaketh not, if either hunger comes,
Or passing thirst, or lower calls of need;
And children’s stomach works its own content.
And I, though I foresaw this, call to mind,
How I was cheated, washing swaddling clothes,
And nurse and laundress did the selfsame work.
I then with these my double handicrafts,
Brought up Orestes for his father dear;
And now, woe’s me! I learn that he is dead,
And go to fetch the man that mars this house;
And gladly will he hear these words of mine.

Nichorera Sukayeko Akash – Abhi Subedi

भक्कानो फोरेर रोएको
कानमा खसेपछि
वेगले भेट्न दौडेँ,
पृथ्वी मेरो मोटरसाइकलको चक्कामा
पहिरन अल्झाएर
झन्डै नाङ्गिइन्,
पानी जस्तै थ्याच्च बसिन्
म भिजेको सरि
मायाले टाँगिएँ र
एक निचरेर सुकाएको हलुका आकाश भएँ ।

When Great Trees Fall – Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
gnaws on kind words
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.

Life As A Stage Of Roles – Yusuf Abdulazeez Ojo

Life as stage of roles,
everyone performs when it’s time,
We take new roles as we grow
We take new roles by what we know,
Our performances on each role based on our ability
Could be through faith, status, wealth, beauty, character,
Some take bad roles,
A few take good roles,
In between the entrance and exist, we coexist
we perform our destiny
from entrance to exist we choose our choice,
what we do affects another at work, all linked together,
our present affect, our absent affect,
both the young ones and old ones have many roles to play
Our roles end when we are dead
Best of roles are for Allah, the worst roles aim for world.
Allah shall reward us based on aim. Aamiin

Smart – Shel Silverstein

My dad gave me one dollar bill
‘Cause I’m his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
‘Cause two is more then one!
And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes– I guess he didn’t know
That three is more than two!
Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just ’cause he can’t see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!
And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!
And I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head–
Too proud of me to speak!

Dirty Face – Shel Silverstein

Where did you get such a dirty face,
My darling dirty-faced child?
I got it from crawling along in the dirt
And biting two buttons off Jeremy’s shirt.
I got it from chewing the roots of a rose
And digging for clams in the yard with my nose.
I got it from peeking into a dark cave
And painting myself like a Navajo brave.
I got it from playing with coal in the bin
And signing my name in cement with my chin.
I got if from rolling around on the rug
And giving the horrible dog a big hug.
I got it from finding a lost silver mine
And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine.
I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears
And from having more fun than you’ve had in years.

Kukhuro – Laxmi Prasad Devkota

रातले रोइरहिथिन् लाखन
मैले कनिका जस्ता मानी टिपी निलेँ ती
नाना !
पुछेँ गगनको छाती—
बालेँ दीप प्रभाती !
तारानलको अन्तर ज्वलनले
म भएँ रातो—
अग्नि शिखा झैँ— एक कुर्लनले
लिएँ तिमिर सातो—
पूर्व क्षितिजतिर फर्की लाएँ
बोलेँ तातो—
अन्धकारको गो टाटो—
बाक्लो कुइरो फाटयो !
छिर्का परेका ललित र लाल
हे ! कमाल !
ती हुन् मेरा विचारहरुका करवाल,
स्वरले उच्चाल—
रेटिदिएका तम–सेनाका
सकल पराजित छाल
विजयसिउर यो शानि मेरो,
प्रभात पटलको फेरो—
बास माटीको ढिकुरो—
केवल कुखुरो !

Bhoot Sawar – Laxmi Prasad Devkota


थिए सिकन्दरका जुँघा
क्या बाघका !
करमा कस्तो करवाल !
मुठी कस्ता !
लाख, लाखका !


झोक्रिरहन्थ्यो, झोक्रिरहन्थ्यो,
लहडी एक !
भाग्यो केही ?
सब मोटाए चाटी, चाटी !
विश्वविजेताको छ उदेक !


“के चाहिन्छ ?”
त्यो भन्छ,
“हा ! हा ! हा ! हा ! घाम नछेक”
शस्त्रअस्त्रको शेखीउपर
हेर ! बुद्धिको कत्रो टेक !


दीवालाका दान गजब छन् !
स्वतन्त्र दिलको पुजारी
हाँस्दछ, हाँस्दछ मेरा दिलमा
पाजी, पूँजी, लूटहरुमा,
इन्कार तथा धिक्कार
नामका खुट्टा बजारी !

Putali – Laxmi Prasad Devkota

म रङ्गीचङ्गी छु वसन्त छोरी ।
म जन्मिएँ कोकिलले कर्राई ।।
झुसिल्किराको सपना सिँगारी ।
दिए पखेटा प्रभुले मलाई ।।१।।

म हूँ पहीली बुझ पङ्खदार ।
वसन्तको फूल लिँदी सिँगार ।।
कता कताको सुकुमार सार ।
फुलेर उठ्दो क्षणको विचार ।।२।।

आकाश जस्तो सुनसान चित्त ।
हुँदा फुरी भाव नयाँ विचित्र ।।
इन्द्रनी जस्तो रंगरुप पाई ।
उचालिए झै म उडें रमाई ।।३।।

म बीउ झै ली सपना सुतेथें ।
झरी र छाया अनि घामभित्र ।।
क्यै कुत्कुतीले बुझ पङ्खदार ।
बनी उडें क्या कलिली विचित्र ।।४।।

सिँगारिएका कति रङ्ग जाति ।
धुलो सुनौला दुइ पङ्खमाथि ।।
हालै बनाएर परी मलाई ।
वसन्तको बाग दिए बनाई ।।५।।

ठिटी म सानी अनि रूपखानी ।
हूँ र्स्वर्गकी एक परी बयानी ।।
बुन्छन् पखेटा प्रभुले मलाई ।
तरङ्गको तान लिई रँगाई ।।६।।

बनी हलूका सुख झैं सलक्क ।
म नाच्छु फुर्फुर्र घुमी फरक्क ।।
जहाँ म जाने मन गर्छु फिर्छु
फुका हँसीली रसिली विचर्छु।७।।

चुसेर मीठा रस फूलमाथि ।
गमक्क भै मस्त बसेर जाति ।।
म बन्छु ध्यानी सुखको वसन्ती ।
न छोप्न खोजे तर यत्ति बिन्ति ।।८।।

सुरुक्क पारी रस फूलबाट ।
चुसेर मीठो अति मस्तसाथ ।।
छोपी अँगालोसित पङ्खद्धारा ।
म देख्छु सातौं सब र्स्वर्ग प्यारा ।।९।।

पिलिक्क पारिकन चट्ट आँखा ।
काला उज्याला कतिका चनाखा ।।
म हेर्छु छन् फूल कहाँ उज्याला ।
भनेर आफ्ना रसदार प्याला ।।१०।।

बसेर प्यूँदो रस थोर बेर ।
मजा अनौठोसँग मस्त हेर ।।
मर् इशको जो रस बासवाला ।
चाखिरहेको छु चुमेर प्याला ।।११।।

अरू उडेको सुखमा हलुका ।
अरू रमेको रसभित्र नीका ।।
देखेर आफै पुतली बनेर ।
नाचें दिलैमा सुख मिल्छ हेर ।।१२।।

सौर्न्दर्यको रूप भजेर रङ्गी ।
त्यहाँ हुने जो रस चुस्नु सङ्गी ।।
त्यही सबै र्स्वर्ग भनेर जान ।
मिल्ला त्यहा इश्वर गन्ध पान ।।१३।।

झुसिल्किराको सपना सिँगारी ।
दिए पखेटा प्रभुले फिजारी ।।
म डुल्छु सारा वन खेत बारी ।
बनेर आँखाकन रूप भारी ।।१४।।

छ शक्ति क्या हेर विचित्र नानी ।
चोली रँगीलो लिनकी म ध्यानी ।।
झुसिल्किरा तुच्छ खराबबाट ।
जन्में म कस्तो रँग-रूपसाथ ।।१५।।

बसेर यौटै मनभित्र ध्यान ।
गरेर सारा मनलाइ तान ।।
बदलिन्छ चोला रँग मिल्छ राम्रो ।
देखिन्छ त्योर् इश्वर हेर हाम्रो ।।१६।।

पाइन्छ मीठा रस चट्ट प्यूँन ।
पुगिन्छ क्या र्स्वर्ग वसन्त ज्यूँन ।।
जहाँ छ राम्रो उसतर्फउड्न ।
लिई पखेटा फुर्रुर्रुर हिँड्न ।।१७।।

Hope For Him – Kabir

O friend! hope for Him whilst you live, know whilst you live,
understand whilst you live: for in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of
deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him
because it has passed from the body:
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru, have faith in the true
Kabîr says: ‘It is the Spirit of the quest which helps; I am the slave of this Spirit of the quest.

Rains Have Come – Amir Khusro

Dear Mom, send my dad across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your dad’s too old; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my brother across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your brother’s too young; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my uncle across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your uncle’s too dandy; the rainy season has come.

My Youth – Amir Khusro

My youth is budding, is full of passion;
How can I spend this time without my beloved?
Would someone please coax Nizamuddin Aulia,
The more I appease him, the more annoyed he gets;
My youth is budding……
Want to break these bangles against the cot,
And throw up my blouse into fire,
The empty bed scares me,
The fire of separation keeps burning me.
Oh, beloved. My youth is budding.

To-Day, This Insect – Dylan Thomas

To-day, this insect, and the world I breathe,
Now that my symbols have outelbowed space,
Time at the city spectacles, and half
The dear, daft time I take to nudge the sentence,
In trust and tale I have divided sense,
Slapped down the guillotine, the blood-red double
Of head and tail made witnesses to this
Murder of Eden and green genesis.

The insect certain is the plague of fables.

This story’s monster has a serpent caul,
Blind in the coil scrams round the blazing outline,
Measures his own length on the garden wall
And breaks his shell in the last shocked beginning;
A crocodile before the chrysalis,
Before the fall from love the flying heartbone,
Winged like a sabbath ass this children’s piece
Uncredited blows Jericho on Eden.

The insect fable is the certain promise.

Death: death of Hamlet and the nightmare madmen,
An air-drawn windmill on a wooden horse,
John’s beast, Job’s patience, and the fibs of vision,
Greek in the Irish sea the ageless voice:
‘Adam I love, my madmen’s love is endless,
No tell-tale lover has an end more certain,
All legends’ sweethearts on a tree of stories,
My cross of tales behind the fabulous curtain.’

This Bread I Break – Dylan Thomas

This bread I break was once the oat,
This wine upon a foreign tree
Plunged in its fruit;
Man in the day or wine at night
Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy.

Once in this time wine the summer blood
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,
Once in this bread
The oat was merry in the wind;
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.

This flesh you break, this blood you let
Make desolation in the vein,
Were oat and grape
Born of the sensual root and sap;
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.

Rainy Night – Dorothy Parker

Ghosts of all my lovely sins,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow.

Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow,
You shall have my further years-
You shall walk with me tomorrow.

I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.

I have lived with shades, a shade;
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be tonight arrayed
In the silver of the showers.

Every fragile thing shall rust;
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.

All sweet sins shall be forgot;
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.

Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?

Sail, tonight, the Styx’s breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest,
Spirits of my shared transgressions,

Roam with young Persephone.
Plucking poppies for your slumber . . .
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.

A Certain Lady – Dorothy Parker

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You’ll never know.

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, —
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me — marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ….
And what goes on, my love, while you’re away,
You’ll never know.

Comfort – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.
Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet !
And if no precious gums my hands bestow,
Let my tears drop like amber while I go
In reach of thy divinest voice complete
In humanest affection — thus, in sooth,
To lose the sense of losing. As a child,
Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore
Is sung to in its stead by mother’s mouth
Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled,
He sleeps the faster that he wept before.

The Autumn – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Go, sit upon the lofty hill,
And turn your eyes around,
Where waving woods and waters wild
Do hymn an autumn sound.
The summer sun is faint on them —
The summer flowers depart —
Sit still — as all transform’d to stone,
Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,
May yet be in your mind;
And how you heard the green woods sing
Beneath the freshening wind.
Though the same wind now blows around,
You would its blast recall;
For every breath that stirs the trees,
Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth
That flesh and dust impart:
We cannot bear its visitings,
When change is on the heart.
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!

The dearest hands that clasp our hands, —
Their presence may be o’er;
The dearest voice that meets our ear,
That tone may come no more!
Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,
Which once refresh’d our mind,
Shall come — as, on those sighing woods,
The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind — view not the woods;
Look out o’er vale and hill-
In spring, the sky encircled them —
The sky is round them still.
Come autumn’s scathe — come winter’s cold —
Come change — and human fate!
Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,
Can ne’er be desolate.

Work – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

WHAT are we set on earth for ? Say, to toil;
Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines
For all the heat o’ the day, till it declines,
And Death’s mild curfew shall from work assoil.
God did anoint thee with his odorous oil,
To wrestle, not to reign; and He assigns
All thy tears over, like pure crystallines,
For younger fellow-workers of the soil
To wear for amulets. So others shall
Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand
From thy hand and thy heart and thy brave cheer,
And God’s grace fructify through thee to
The least flower with a brimming cup may stand,
And share its dew-drop with another near.

The Forest Reverie – Edgar Allan Poe

Tis said that when
The hands of men
Tamed this primeval wood,
And hoary trees with groans of woe,
Like warriors by an unknown foe,
Were in their strength subdued,
The virgin Earth Gave instant birth
To springs that ne’er did flow
That in the sun Did rivulets run,
And all around rare flowers did blow
The wild rose pale Perfumed the gale
And the queenly lily adown the dale
(Whom the sun and the dew
And the winds did woo),
With the gourd and the grape luxuriant grew.

So when in tears
The love of years
Is wasted like the snow,
And the fine fibrils of its life
By the rude wrong of instant strife
Are broken at a blow
Within the heart
Do springs upstart
Of which it doth now know,
And strange, sweet dreams,
Like silent streams
That from new fountains overflow,
With the earlier tide
Of rivers glide
Deep in the heart whose hope has died–
Quenching the fires its ashes hide,–
Its ashes, whence will spring and grow
Sweet flowers, ere long,
The rare and radiant flowers of song!

A Dream Within A Dream – Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Twenty Four Years – Dylan Thomas

Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.

Being But Men – Dylan Thomas

Being but men, we walked into the trees
Afraid, letting our syllables be soft
For fear of waking the rooks,
For fear of coming
Noiselessly into a world of wings and cries.

If we were children we might climb,
Catch the rooks sleeping, and break no twig,
And, after the soft ascent,
Thrust out our heads above the branches
To wonder at the unfailing stars.

Out of confusion, as the way is,
And the wonder, that man knows,
Out of the chaos would come bliss.

That, then, is loveliness, we said,
Children in wonder watching the stars,
Is the aim and the end.

Being but men, we walked into the trees.

Vegetables – Shel Silverstein

Eat a tomato and you’ll turn red
(I don’t think that’s really so);
Eat a carrot and you’ll turn orange
(Still and all, you never know);
Eat some spinach and you’ll turn green
(I’m not saying that it’s true
But that’s what I heard, and so
I thought I’d pass it on to you).

The Monkey – Shel Silverstein

1 little monkey
was goin’ 2 the store
when he saw a banana 3
he’d never climbed be4.
By 5 o’clock that evenin’
he was 6 with a stomach ache
’cause 7 green bananas
was what that monkey 8.

By 9 o’clock that evening’
that monkey was quite ill,
so 10 we called the doctor
who was 11 on the hill.
The doctor said, ‘You’re almost dead.
Don’t eat green bananas no more.’
The sick little monkey groaned and said,
‘But that’s what I 1-2 the 3-4.’

Dream-Love – Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Young Love lies sleeping
In May-time of the year,
Among the lilies,
Lapped in the tender light:
White lambs come grazing,
White doves come building there:
And round about him
The May-bushes are white.

Soft moss the pillow
For oh, a softer cheek;
Broad leaves cast shadow
Upon the heavy eyes:
There wind and waters
Grow lulled and scarcely speak;
There twilight lingers
The longest in the skies.

Young Love lies dreaming;
But who shall tell the dream?
A perfect sunlight
On rustling forest tips;
Or perfect moonlight
Upon a rippling stream;
Or perfect silence,
Or song of cherished lips.

Burn odours round him
To fill the drowsy air;
Weave silent dances
Around him to and fro;
For oh, in waking
The sights are no so fair,
And song and silence
Are not like these below.

Young Love lies dreaming
Till summer days are gone, –
Dreaming and drowsing
Away to perfect sleep:
He sees the beauty
Sun hath not looked upon,
And tastes the fountain
Unutterably deep.

Him perfect music
Doth hush unto his rest,
And through the pauses
The perfect silence calms:
Oh, poor the voices
Of earth from east to west,
And poor earth’s stillness
Between her stately palms.

Young Love lies drowsing
Away to poppied death;
Cool shadows deepen
Across the sleeping face:
So fails the summer
With warm delicious breath;
And what hath autumn
To give us in its place?

Draw close the curtains
Of branched evergreen;
Change cannot touch them
With fading fingers sere:
Here first the violets
Perhaps with bud unseen,
And a dove, may be,
Return to nestle here.

The Choice – Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Think thou and act; to-morrow thou shalt die.
Outstretch’d in the sun’s warmth upon the shore,
Thou say’st: ‘Man’s measured path is all gone o’er:
Up all his years, steeply, with strain and sigh,
Man clomb until he touch’d the truth; and I,
Even I, am he whom it was destined for.’
How should this be? Art thou then so much more
Than they who sow’d, that thou shouldst reap thereby?

Nay, come up hither. From this wave-wash’d mound
Unto the furthest flood-brim look with me;
Then reach on with thy thought till it be drown’d.
Miles and miles distant though the last line be,
And though thy soul sail leagues and leagues beyond,—
Still, leagues beyond those leagues, there is more sea.

During Music – Dante Gabriel Rossetti

O COOL unto the sense of pain
That last night’s sleep could not destroy;
O warm unto the sense of joy,
That dreams its life within the brain.
What though I lean o’er thee to scan
The written music cramped and stiff;—
‘Tis dark to me, as hieroglyph
On those weird bulks Egyptian.
But as from those, dumb now and strange,
A glory wanders on the earth,
Even so thy tones can call a birth
From these, to shake my soul with change.
O swift, as in melodious haste
Float o’er the keys thy fingers small;
O soft, as is the rise and fall
Which stirs that shade within thy breast.

Dashain – Lekhnath Paudyal

हट्यो सारा हिलो मैलो
हरायो पानीको वर्षा
भवानीको भयो पूजा
चल्यो आनन्दको वर्षा

जता जाउ उतै भन्छन्
दशैं आयो दशैं आयो
यही आनन्द चर्चाले
सबै संकष्ट बिर्सायो

ठूला साना सबैलाई
दशैं अत्यन्त राम्रो छ
चलेका चाडमा ज्यादै
यही उत्कृष्ट हाम्रो छ

सबै अत्यन्त आनन्दी
सबै छन् पिङमा दंग
सबैको देखिंदै आयो
उज्यालो चेहरा रंग !

Power – Marilyn Shepperson

There is a power in taking
But more power in giving
There is a power in revenge
But more power in forgiving
There is a power in destroying
But more power in letting something live
There is a power in denying our true age
But more power in showing that we’ve lived. 

A Tower Of Power – Ben Gieske

We will build a tower
With unbridled spring-water attitudes
Flowing with fires of charity
For all the suffering multitudes
Dispossessed and swallowing poverty
We will give them power

We will build a tower
With lots of windows and no ears
With promises for those who have ceased their quest
For the young and old in years
For those who no longer turn west
We will give them power

We will give them power
Give them tomorrows and rainbows in tomorrow’s flowers
Help them fill pitchers with milk, honey, and cream
Reap the green of crops they have never seen
Shelter them from the cold, black screams
They will scale the tower

We will build a tower
They will scale like goats and soar like eagles
Who climbs higher than these birds? 
They will peer through rose-colored gothic windows
And see the many rainbows of blooming flowers spilling colors
They will have the power

We will build a tower
For those near and far
Those who lost their dreams
Those who ceased the quest
Those no longer traveling west

Our actions will speak louder than words
They will sing the music of the birds
Learn to disregard the terms
Of all their unanswered yearns

Full Moon – Du Fu

Above the tower — a lone, twice-sized moon.
On the cold river passing night-filled homes,
It scatters restless gold across the waves.
On mats, it shines richer than silken gauze.

Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars,
Not yet flawed, it drifts. Pine and cinnamon
Spreading in my old garden . . . All light,
All ten thousand miles at once in its light!

Morning Rain – Du Fu

A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened

Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain — and lingers on past noon.

Restless Night – Du Fu

As bamboo chill drifts into the bedroom,
Moonlight fills every corner of our
Garden. Heavy dew beads and trickles.
Stars suddenly there, sparse, next aren’t.

Fireflies in dark flight flash. Waking
Waterbirds begin calling, one to another.
All things caught between shield and sword,
All grief empty, the clear night passes.

Remember – Christina Georgina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

Water Floods – James K. Dyson

modern day in the shade

feels like hazy, blue, pouring rain

sitting under chipmunk filled trees

watching clouds and thinking about fleas

fleas are small but not as tiny

I am fine, but please, don’t mind me

growing tadpoles in the pond

just a patient, won’t take long

alcohol is in my blood

inject an overdose

when water floods

the find is dry

she lied again

I don’t know why?

I do know when.

The Kiss – Rabindranath Tagore

Lips’ language to lips’ ears.
Two drinking each other’s heart, it seems.
Two roving loves who have left home,
pilgrims to the confluence of lips.
Two waves rise by the law of love
to break and die on two sets of lips.
Two wild desires craving each other
meet at last at the body’s limits.
Love’s writing a song in dainty letters,
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips.
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips
perhaps to thread them into a chain later.
This sweet union of lips
is the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles. 

Sleep – Rabindranath Tagore

In the night of weariness 
let me give myself up to sleep without struggle, 
resting my trust upon thee. 

Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy worship. 

It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the day 
to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of awakening. 

June – John Clare

Now summer is in flower and natures hum
Is never silent round her sultry bloom
Insects as small as dust are never done
Wi’ glittering dance and reeling in the sun
And green wood fly and blossom haunting bee
Are never weary of their melody
Round field hedge now flowers in full glory twine
Large bindweed bells wild hop and streakd woodbine
That lift athirst their slender throated flowers
Agape for dew falls and for honey showers
These round each bush in sweet disorder run
And spread their wild hues to the sultry sun.’

Market Day – John Clare

With arms and legs at work and gentle stroke
That urges switching tail nor mends his pace,
On an old ribbed and weather beaten horse,
The farmer goes jog trotting to the fair.
Both keep their pace that nothing can provoke
Followed by brindled dog that snuffs the ground
With urging bark and hurries at his heels.
His hat slouched down, and great coat buttoned close
Bellied like hooped keg, and chuffy face
Red as the morning sun, he takes his round
And talks of stock: and when his jobs are done
And Dobbin’s hay is eaten from the rack,
He drinks success to corn in language hoarse,
And claps old Dobbin’s hide, and potters back.

Tears Of Pain – Seema Chowdhury

Tears of pain
Tears of gain
Tears of loss
Tears of toss
Tears of smiles
All for a while
Comes to bring
In life’s ring
Some joys some pains
So enjoy it all
Before it falls
And ends a phase
Of life’s days
For life is a gift
And it is sent for uplift
Of our souls and hearts
That’ll one day impart
And then we’ll all die
Ending our stories high.

California Winter – Karl Shapiro

It is winter in California, and outside
Is like the interior of a florist shop: 
A chilled and moisture-laden crop
Of pink camellias lines the path; and what
Rare roses for a banquet or a bride, 
So multitudinous that they seem a glut! 

A line of snails crosses the golf-green lawn
From the rosebushes to the ivy bed; 
An arsenic compound is distributed
For them. The gardener will rake up the shells
And leave in a corner of the patio
The little mound of empty shells, like skulls.

By noon the fog is burnt off by the sun
And the world’s immensest sky opens a page
For the exercise of a future age; 
Now jet planes draw straight lines, parabolas, 
And x’s, which the wind, before they’re done, 
Erases leisurely or pulls to fuzz.

It is winter in the valley of the vine.
The vineyards crucified on stakes suggest
War cemeteries, but the fruit is pressed, 
The redwood vats are brimming in the shed, 
And on the sidings stand tank cars of wine, 
For which bright juice a billion grapes have bled.

And skiers from the snow line driving home
Descend through almond orchards, olive farms.
Fig tree and palm tree – everything that warms
The imagination of the wintertime.
If the walls were older one would think of Rome: 
If the land were stonier one would think of Spain.

But this land grows the oldest living things, 
Trees that were young when Pharoahs ruled the world, 
Trees whose new leaves are only just unfurled.
Beautiful they are not; they oppress the heart
With gigantism and with immortal wings; 
And yet one feels the sumptuousness of this dirt.

It is raining in California, a straight rain
Cleaning the heavy oranges on the bough, 
Filling the gardens till the gardens flow, 
Shining the olives, tiling the gleaming tile, 
Waxing the dark camellia leaves more green, 
Flooding the daylong valleys like the Nile. 

On Time – John Milton

Fly, envious Time, till thou run out thy race,
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet’s pace;
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours,
Which is no more than what is false and vain,
And merely mortal dross;
So little is our loss,
So little is thy gain.
For when as each thing bad thou hast intombed,
And last of all thy greedy self consumed,
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss
With an individual kiss,
And Joy shall overtake us like a flood;
When everything that is sincerely good
And perfectly divine,
With truth and peace, and love, shall ever shine
About the supreme throne
Of Him, t’ whose happy-making sight alone
When once our heav’nly-guided soul shall climb,
Then, all this earthly grossness quit,
Attired with stars, we shall forever sit,
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time. 

To The Same – John Milton

Cyriack, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear, 
To outward view, of blemish or of a spot, 
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgotten; 
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not 
Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot 
Of heart or hope, but still, bear up and steer 
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? 
The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied
In liberty’s defense, my noble task, 
Of which all Europe rings from side to side. 
This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask 
Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 

Valentine – Elinor Morton Wylie

Too high, too high to pluck 
My heart shall swing. 
A fruit no bee shall suck, 
No wasp shall sting.

If on some night of cold 
It falls to the ground 
In apple-leaves of gold 
I’ll wrap it around.

And I shall seal it up 
With spice and salt, 
In a carven silver cup, 
In a deep vault.

Before my eyes are blind 
And my lips mute, 
I must eat core and rind 
Of that same fruit.

Before my heart is dust 
By the end of all, 
Eat it I must, I must 
Were it bitter gall.

But I shall keep it sweet 
By some strange art; 
Wild honey, I shall eat 
When I eat my heart.

O honey cool and chaste 
As clover’s breath! 
Sweet Heaven I shall taste 
Before my death. 

Magic – Ovid

YE elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves, 
And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
When he comes back, you demi-puppets that 
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe, not bites; and you whose pastime 
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, 
Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d 
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, 
And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault 
Set roaring water; to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak 
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory 
Have I made a shake, and by the spurs, pluck’d up 
The pine and cedar; graves at my command 
Have wak’d their sleepers, op’d, and let ’em forth 
By my so potent art. 

Love And War – Ovid

Lovers all are soldiers, and Cupid has his campaigns: 
I tell you, Atticus, lovers all are soldiers.
Youth is fit for war and also fit for Venus.
Imagine an aged soldier, an elderly lover! 
A general looks for the spirit in his brave soldiery; 
a pretty girl wants spirit in her companions.
Both stay up all night long, and each sleeps on the ground; 
one guards his mistress’s doorway, one his general’s.
The soldier’s lot requires far journeys; send his girl, 
the zealous lover will follow her anywhere.
He’ll cross the glowering mountains, the rivers are swollen with a storm; 
he’ll tread a pathway through the heaped-up snows; 
and never whine of raging Eurus when he sets sail
or wait for stars propitious for his voyage.
Who but lovers and soldiers endure the chill of night, 
and blizzards interspersed with driving rain? 
The soldier reconnoiters among the dangerous foe; 
the lover spies to learn his rival’s plans.
Soldiers besiege strong cities; lovers, a harsh girl’s home; 
one storms town gates, the other storms house doors.
It’s a clever strategy to raid a sleeping foe
and slay an unarmed host by force of arms.
(That’s how the troops of Thracian Rhesus met their doom, 
and you, O captive steeds, forsook your master.) 
Well, lovers take advantage of husbands when they sleep, 
launching surprise attacks while the enemy snores.
To slip through bands of guards and watchful sentinels
is always the soldier’s mission – and the lover’s.
Mars wavers; Venus flutters the conquered rise again, 
and those you’d think could never fall, lie low.
So those who like to say that love is indolent
should stop: Love is the soul of the enterprise.
Sad Achilles burns for Briseis, his lost darling: 
Trojans, smash the Greeks’ power while you may! 
From Andromache’s embrace Hector went to war; 
his own wife set the helmet on his head; 
and High King Agamemnon, looking on Priam’s child, 
was stunned (they say) by the Maenad’s flowing hair.
And Mars himself was trapped in The Artificer’s bonds: 
no tale was more notorious in heaven.
I too was once an idler, born for careless ease; 
my shady couch had made my spirit soft.
But care for a lovely girl aroused me from my sloth
and bid me enlist in her campaign.
So now you see me forceful, in combat all night long.
If you want a life of action, fall in love.

To Life’s Pilgrim – Geoffrey Chaucer

FLY from the press, and dwell with soothfastness;

Suffice unto thy good, though it be small,
For hoard hath hate, and climbing tickleness ;

Preise hath envie, and weal is blent o’er all.

Savor no more than thee behoven shall,
Rede well thy self that other folk can’st rede,
And Truth thee shalt deliver ’tis no drede.

That thee is sent receive in buxomness :
The wrestling of this world, asketh a fall.

Here is no home, here is but wilderness.
Forth, pilgrim, forth on, best out of thy stall;
Look up on high, and thank the God of all!

Weivith thy lust, and let thy ghost thee lead,

And Truth thee shalt deliver ’tis no drede.

Since I From Love – Geoffrey Chaucer

Since I from Love escaped am so fat,
I ne’er think to be in his prison ta’en;
Since I am free, I count him not a bean.

He may answer, and saye this and that;
I do no force, I speak right as I mean;
Since I from Love escaped am so fat.

Love hath my name struck out of his slat,
And he is struck out of my bookes clean,
For ever more; there is none other mean;
Since I from Love escaped am so fat.

A Cook – Geoffrey Chaucer

They had a cook with them who stood alone For boiling chicken with a marrow-bone, Sharp flavouring powder and spice for savour. He could distinguish London ale by flavour, And he could roast and boil and seethe and fry, Make good thick soup and bake a tasty pie… As for blancmange, he made it with the best. 

The Seaside – Lee Harwood

(for Peter Ruppell)

You wrote such a love poem that I was
dumb-founded & left to scratch the sand
Alone in the surf I couldn’t join the bait-diggers
I’d left my fork and bucket at home
& I am not rough by nature

You were sitting on top of a boulder deep in the forest
It was taller than a man & surrounded by pine trees
I think there are pine trees on Fire Island
but I’ve never been to Fire Island, though
I can imagine & we all know what could happen

there, but. . . . . . .
& the world that started in a parked car
was really a fearful one — It would only lead
from one confusion to another
& I couldn’t do this to you on the giant highway

She was a reason in herself, & women need
the menace of ambiguity in their actions
so one action might well signify the opposite
— an act of sacrifice really the act of killing & revenge —
& this much was true

The exercise book was green & the distance
saved much embarrassment though you were
in many ways ignorant of this
I still can’t find my bucket & bait-fork
but this is only an excuse 

The Final Painting – Lee Harwood

The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
– nothing is limited by the canvas or frame –
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this – only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey – the rest – the landscape below –
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds 

A Twinkle in Her Eyes – Majeed Amjad

Who can say

Why her eyes,

Those playmates of the hamlet where Beauty dwells,

Why her eyes smile that way ?

When notes arising from her soul,

That Temple-Palace of Music,

And traipsing through the land of glad tidings,

Mirthfully smothering the tinkling of their anklets,

Tip toe up, haltingly, secretively,

To the gates of her lips,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

Leaping over islands of silence

And wastelands of sealed lip pining,

When the silhouettes of desire

Come waltzing in

To nestle in an intimate moment’s nest,

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles ?

Her soul, that Sprite-Princess,

Neither lifts her veil

Nor voices her song

And when her heart’s ballad

Passes through distant, unexplored worlds

As the faint, lingering sounds of a flute …

Why her gaze sparkles and smiles !

Windy Nights – Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop, he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

Block City – Robert Louis Stevenson

What are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,
But I can be happy and building at home.

Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, 
There I’ll establish a city for me:
A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,
And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride.

Great is the palace with pillar and wall,
A sort of a tower on top of it all,
And steps coming down in an orderly way
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay. 

This one is sailing and that one is moored:
Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings
Coming and going with presents and things! 

My Love Was Warm – Robert Louis Stevenson

MY love was warm; for that, I crossed
The mountains and the sea,
Nor counted that endeavor lost
That gave my love to me.

If that indeed were love at all,
As still, my love, I trow,
By what dear name am I to call
The bond that holds me now 

Hope – Krantol Northic

Hope is the sweet, sweet scent
of flowers in the morning
Hope is the cool gentle breeze
on a warm summer’s day
Hope is the knowledge of stability
from a son in mourning
Hope is the bright shining light
keeping the darkness at bay

Hope is the calming warmth
during a cold winter
Hope is the determination
of an athlete on the track
Hope is the potential
of a newborn baby
Hope is the love
between you and me

Hope springs eternal 

A White Christmas – Carla Jean Laglia Esely

Twas the night before Christmas.
With a blanket of white.
That covered the earth all through the night.
The trees sparkled like diamonds.
With a glitter so bright.
That each little twinkle made its own Christmas light.
A hope and a prayer a white Christmas would be.
Awaiting the dawn so all could see.
The beauty and joy a white Christmas does bring.
To the holiday season as carolers sing.
For twas the night before Christmas.
God answered your prayer.
With a blanket of white.
Placed with God’s loving care.” 

Christmas – Julia Ann Moore

Hail the coming holiday,
With a hearty joyous feast,
And drive away sorrow, friends,
For a day or two at least;
Lay all business cares aside,
And make the world resound,
With music and festivals
Throughout our merry town.

May every person in our land
A voice to heaven raise,
And welcome in Christ’s birthday,
With everlasting praise;
Praise Him who died upon the cross,
Our sinning souls to save,
The great Redeemer, Christ our Lord,
That dwells beyond the grave.

We should meet in reverence,
And God’s commands obey,
And make each other happy
Throughout the holiday;
And not forget the orphans,
The aged or the blind,
The rich, the poor and needy,
To each one pray be kind.

May every parent in the land,
Hail Christmas day with joy,
And not forget a present for
Their little girls and boys;
They are looking forth anxiously,
For Santa Claus to come
And fill their little stockings,
With toys and sugar-plumbs.

God grant a merry Christmas eve
And happy Christmas day,
To every person in the land,
At home or far away.
That festive day will soon be here,
Alas, will soon be o’er;
Welcome, welcome the coming of
Christmas day once more. 

Winter Heavens – George Meredith

Sharp is the night but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul’s haven to have felt.

Anger – Tissa Calvert

Anger is the devil inside our locked up souls, 
Anger is the spirit in which I withhold, 
Anger such demons who never is told, 
Anger is which never ever grows old.
Anger is a lie when someone’s in trouble, 
Anger is always there on the double, 
That’s what anger is! 

poem – the bright blessed day

The bright blessed day with joy we see
Rise out of the sea at dawning;
It lightens the sky unceasingly,
Our gain and delight adorning!
As children of light we sense that soon
Dark night will give way to morning!

Our Lord chose the blessed midnight hour
To come down without our knowing,
Then clear in the east in dawn’s pale bower
The sun’s hues in strength were growing:
Then light filled the sky, in which the earth
Shall shimmer with inner glowing!

Were each forest tree to come alive,
And each leaf a voice be granted,
The law of God’s mercy they’d contrive
In vain in words to have chanted;
Since Life’s Light now shines for ever more,
In old and young firmly planted!

Yea, though every blade of grass could speak,
In meadow or field or clearing,
A thanksgiving hymn they could not seek
To sing for our human hearing,
Befitting the day, for light and life,
While eons their course are steering.

In vain would the weak man try who chose
To conquer the mountain summit,
The eagle is wily, though, and knows
The wind will not let it plummet,
And even the small blithe lark can brave
The sky and yet overcome it.

The river so brash with thund’rous noise
From crag-face comes downwards crashing
The streams down below have no such voice,
Though murmur with gentle plashing,
So gently they wind through grassy lea
Up under the lime trees splashing!

So thank we our God, our father good,
As larks in their dawn-time chorus,
For each day he gave, as so we should
For life he from death won for us,
For all that has nurtured human souls
For thousands of years before us!

As long as we see the golden day,
And woods are the Danes’ own bowers,
We’ll deck every pew with sprigs of may
And forefathers’ graves with flowers
A wonderful feast of life and joy,
A Whitsuntide gift that’s ours!

And then from our eyes will start to flow
Mild tears like a stream now thriving,
And streams join and to a river grow
That fain for Life’s Source is striving
It secretly gains, like some deep sigh,
So early yet late arriving!

And no day can have so long a growth
That evening cannot be sighted,
Its light and its setting sun are both
What God in his church has lighted;
But ever again it dawns anew
For hearts who in morn delighted!

Let day gently glide this Whitsuntide,
With haloing rays full-flashing!
The hours pleasing God as past they slide,
As meadowland stream soft-plashing,
So joyously now the last one winds,
Up under the lime trees splashing!

Like gold is the dawn just moments old,
When day from its death is rising,
Yet we too are kissed with lips of gold
By sunset so sweet-enticing,
Then every dull gaze will glint afresh,
Pale cheeks with new blush surprising!

We’ll journey then to our fatherland,
Where no day lies still thereafter,
Where stands a strong castle, proud and grand,
Whose halls all resound with laughter,
And there we will talk till time is done
In light with our friends hereafter!

poem – a simple

A simple, cheerful, active life on earth,
A cup I’d not exchange for monarch’s chalice,
In noble forebears’ tracks a path since birth,
With equal dignity in hut and palace,
With eye as when created heav’nward turned,
All beauty here and grandness keenly knowing,
Familiar though with those things deeply yearned,
Stilled only by eternity’s bright glowing.

I wished for all my line just such a life,
And zealously I planned for its fruition,
And when my soul grew tired from toil and strife,
The ‘Lord’s Prayer’ was its rest and its nutrition.
Then from truth’s spirit I great comfort gained,
And felt joy hover o’er each garden border,
When dust is placed in its creator’s hand
And all is waited for in nature’s order:

Just fresh, green buds that sprout in early spring,
And in the summer heat the flowers’ profusion;
And when the plants mature and long to bring
Their harvest fruit to autumn’s full conclusion!
The human span assigned is short or long,
It is for common weal, its yield is growing;
The day that started well will end as strong,
And just as sweet will be its afterglowing.

Poem – Kosmos

WHO includes diversity, and is Nature,
Who is the amplitude of the earth, and the coarseness and sexuality
of the earth, and the great charity of the earth, and the
equilibrium also,
Who has not look’d forth from the windows, the eyes, for nothing, or
whose brain held audience with messengers for nothing;
Who contains believers and disbelievers–Who is the most majestic
Who holds duly his or her triune proportion of realism, spiritualism,
and of the aesthetic, or intellectual,
Who, having consider’d the Body, finds all its organs and parts good;
Who, out of the theory of the earth, and of his or her body,
understands by subtle analogies all other theories,
The theory of a city, a poem, and of the large politics of These
Who believes not only in our globe, with its sun and moon, but in
other globes, with their suns and moons;
Who, constructing the house of himself or herself, not for a day, but
for all time, sees races, eras, dates, generations, 10
The past, the future, dwelling there, like space, inseparable

Poem – Behavior

BEHAVIOR–fresh, native, copious, each one for himself or herself,
Nature and the Soul expressed–America and freedom expressed–In it
the finest art,
In it pride, cleanliness, sympathy, to have their chance,
In it physique, intellect, faith–in it just as much as to manage an
army or a city, or to write a book–perhaps more,
The youth, the laboring person, the poor person, rivalling all the
rest–perhaps outdoing the rest,
The effects of the universe no greater than its;
For there is nothing in the whole universe that can be more effective
than a man’s or woman’s daily behavior can be,
In any position, in any one of These States.

Poem – Faces

SAUNTERING the pavement, or riding the country by-road–lo! such
Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity, ideality;
The spiritual, prescient face–the always welcome, common, benevolent
The face of the singing of music–the grand faces of natural lawyers
and judges, broad at the back-top;
The faces of hunters and fishers, bulged at the brows–the shaved
blanch’d faces of orthodox citizens;
The pure, extravagant, yearning, questioning artist’s face;
The ugly face of some beautiful Soul, the handsome detested or
despised face;
The sacred faces of infants, the illuminated face of the mother of
many children;
The face of an amour, the face of veneration;
The face as of a dream, the face of an immobile rock; 10
The face withdrawn of its good and bad, a castrated face;
A wild hawk, his wings clipp’d by the clipper;
A stallion that yielded at last to the thongs and knife of the

Sauntering the pavement, thus, or crossing the ceaseless ferry,
faces, and faces, and faces:
I see them, and complain not, and am content with all.

Do you suppose I could be content with all, if I thought them their
own finale?

This now is too lamentable a face for a man;
Some abject louse, asking leave to be–cringing for it;
Some milk-nosed maggot, blessing what lets it wrig to its hole.

This face is a dog’s snout, sniffing for garbage; 20
Snakes nest in that mouth–I hear the sibilant threat.

This face is a haze more chill than the arctic sea;
Its sleepy and wobbling icebergs crunch as they go.

This is a face of bitter herbs–this an emetic–they need no label;
And more of the drug-shelf, laudanum, caoutchouc, or hog’s-lard.

This face is an epilepsy, its wordless tongue gives out the unearthly
Its veins down the neck distended, its eyes roll till they show
nothing but their whites,
Its teeth grit, the palms of the hands are cut by the turn’d-in
The man falls struggling and foaming to the ground while he
speculates well.

This face is bitten by vermin and worms, 30
And this is some murderer’s knife, with a half-pull’d scabbard.

This face owes to the sexton his dismalest fee;
An unceasing death-bell tolls there.

Those then are really men–the bosses and tufts of the great round

Features of my equals, would you trick me with your creas’d and
cadaverous march?
Well, you cannot trick me.

I see your rounded, never-erased flow;
I see neath the rims of your haggard and mean disguises.

Splay and twist as you like–poke with the tangling fores of fishes
or rats;
You’ll be unmuzzled, you certainly will. 40

I saw the face of the most smear’d and slobbering idiot they had at
the asylum;
And I knew for my consolation what they knew not;
I knew of the agents that emptied and broke my brother,
The same wait to clear the rubbish from the fallen tenement;
And I shall look again in a score or two of ages,
And I shall meet the real landlord, perfect and unharm’d, every inch
as good as myself.

The Lord advances, and yet advances;
Always the shadow in front–always the reach’d hand bringing up the

Out of this face emerge banners and horses–O superb! I see what is
I see the high pioneer-caps–I see the staves of runners clearing the
way, 50
I hear victorious drums.

This face is a life-boat;
This is the face commanding and bearded, it asks no odds of the rest;
This face is flavor’d fruit, ready for eating;
This face of a healthy honest boy is the programme of all good.

These faces bear testimony, slumbering or awake;
They show their descent from the Master himself.

Off the word I have spoken, I except not one–red, white, black, are
all deific;
In each house is the ovum–it comes forth after a thousand years.

Spots or cracks at the windows do not disturb me; 60
Tall and sufficient stand behind, and make signs to me;
I read the promise, and patiently wait.

This is a full-grown lily’s face,
She speaks to the limber-hipp’d man near the garden pickets,
Come here, she blushingly cries–Come nigh to me, limber-hipp’d man,
Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon you,
Fill me with albescent honey, bend down to me,
Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my breast and shoulders.

The old face of the mother of many children!
Whist! I am fully content. 70

Lull’d and late is the smoke of the First-day morning,
It hangs low over the rows of trees by the fences,
It hangs thin by the sassafras, the wild-cherry, and the cat-brier
under them.

I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree,
I heard what the singers were singing so long,
Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the white froth and the water-

Behold a woman!
She looks out from her quaker cap–her face is clearer and more
beautiful than the sky.

She sits in an arm-chair, under the shaded porch of the farmhouse,
The sun just shines on her old white head. 80

Her ample gown is of cream-hued linen,
Her grandsons raised the flax, and her granddaughters spun it with
the distaff and the wheel.

The melodious character of the earth,
The finish beyond which philosophy cannot go, and does not wish to
The justified mother of men.

Poem – Several Questions Answered

What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

The look of love alarms
Because ’tis fill’d with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall Win the lover’s hire.

Soft Deceit & Idleness,
These are Beauty’s sweetest dress.

He who binds to himself a joy
Dot the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity’s sunrise

Poem – Samson

Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was foiled by woman’s arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of death! O Truth! that shinest with propitious beams, turning our earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty Father, thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet, bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed! O whiterobed Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with iron pen the words of truth, that all who pass may read. — Now Night, noontide of damned spirits, over the silent earth spreads her pavilion, while in dark council sat Philista’s lords; and, where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay. Their helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together lie, and Desolation spreads his wings over the land of Palestine: from side to side the land groans, her prowess lost, and seeks to hide her bruised head under the mists of night, breeding dark plots. For Dalila’s fair arts have long been tried in vain; in vain she wept in many a treacherous tear. Go on, fair traitress; do thy guileful work; ere once again the changing moon her circuit hath performed, thou shalt overcome, and conquer him by force unconquerable, and wrest his secret from him. Call thine alluring arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of love, and the transparent tear; put on fair linen that with the lily vies, purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy loose attire; put on thy country's pride, deceit, and eyes of love decked in mild sorrow; and sell thy lord for gold.' For now, upon her sumptuous couch reclined in gorgeous pride, she still entreats, and still she grasps his vigorous knees with her fair arms.Thou lov’st me not! thou’rt war, thou art not love! O foolish Dalila! O weak woman! it is death clothed in flesh thou lovest, and thou hast been encircled in his arms! Alas, my lord, what am I calling thee? Thou art my God! To thee I pour my tears for sacrifice morning and evening. My days are covered with sorrow, shut up, darkened! By night I am deceived! Who says that thou wast born of mortal kind? Destruction was thy father, a lioness suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and gorged human flesh. Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson’s servant? ‘Tis Dalila that calls, thy master’s wife; no, stay, and let thy master do the deed: one blow of that strong arm would ease my pain; then should I lay at quiet and have rest. Pity forsook thee at thy birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am wedded to your enemy! I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair; 1000 I’ll run about, and pierce the ears o’ th’ gods! O Samson, hold me not; thou lovest me not! Look not upon me with those deathful eyes! Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches fast.’ Thus, in false tears, she bath’d his feet, and thus she day by day oppressed his soul: he seemed a mountain; his brow among the clouds; she seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing. Dark thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind, like thunder clouds troubling the sky; his visage was troubled; his soul was distressed. Though I should tell her all my heart, what can I fear? Though I should tell this secret of my birth, the utmost may be warded off as well when told as now.' She saw him moved, and thus resumes her wiles.Samson, I’m thine; do with me what thou wilt: my friends are enemies; my life is death; I am a traitor to my nation, and despised; my joy is given into the hands of him who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom. Thrice hast thou mocked me and grieved my soul. Didst thou not tell me with green withs to bind thy nervous arms; and, after that, when I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes to bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock me. Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them to try thy truth, I cried, “The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!” Then did suspicion wake thee; how didst thou rend the feeble ties! Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee; thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron. Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; an army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys; what canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water; I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers, what canst thou give when such a trifle is denied me? But O! at last thou mockest me, to shame my over-fond inquiry. Thou toldest me to weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair; I did even that to try thy truth; but, when I cried “The Philistines be upon thee!” then didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not.’ He sat, and inward griev’d; he saw and lov’d the beauteous suppliant, nor could conceal aught that might appease her; then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke: `Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson’s love; for that fair breast was made the ivory palace of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest: for sorrow is the lot of all of woman born: for care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed, can from the heart of man hide sorrow. Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice a sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink no wine, nor eat of any unclean thing; for holy unto Israel’s God I am, a Nazarite even from my mother’s womb. Twice was it told, that it might not be broken. “Grant me a son, kind Heaven,” Manoa cried; but Heaven refused. Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best. In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel he lived, till venerable age came on: his flocks increased, and plenty crowned his board, beloved, revered of man. But God hath other joys in store. Is burdened Israel his grief? The son of his old age shall set it free! The venerable sweetener of his life receives the promise first from Heaven. She saw the maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth; she blessed each new-joined pair; but from her the long-wished deliverer shall spring. Pensive, alone she sat within the house, when busy day was fading, and calm evening, time for contemplation, rose from the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven: pensive she sat, and thought on Israel’s grief, and silent prayed to Israel’s God; when lo! an angel from the fields of light entered the house. His form was manhood in the prime, and from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade. But mild he hailed her, “Hail, highly favoured!” said he; “for lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and Israel’s strength shall be upon his shoulders, and he shall be called Israel’s Deliverer. Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any unclean thing, for he shall be a Nazarite to God.” Then, as a nei 727 ghbour, when his evening tale is told, departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart: she wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel. Manoa left his fields to sit in the house, and take his evening’s rest from labour — the sweetest time that God has allotted mortal man. He sat, and heard with joy, and praised God, who Israel still doth keep. The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was bright, while the ploughshare rusted, till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting. Then prayed Manoa: “O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills! The wolf teareth them, Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood. The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill. Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears a sword, the ox-goad is turned into a spear. O when shall our Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies. Stretch forth thy hand, and save!” Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field, and lo! again the angel came, clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey. She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him. “O man of God,” said he, “thou comest from far! Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid, that thou mayest sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare; that, when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee.” The Angel answered, “My name is Wonderful; inquire not after it, seeing it is a secret; but, if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord.”‘

Poem – Love’s Secret

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.

Poem – The Garden of Love

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And ‘Thou shalt not,’ writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

कविता – मन्दिर

पुजारी ! भजन, पूजन, साधन, प्रार्थना यमि
सबैलाई एकातिर राखिदेऊ ।
ढोका बन्द गरेर मन्दिरको कुनामा किन बसिरहेछौ ?
आङ्खनो मनको अन्धकारलाई लुकाएर बसिरहेछौ, तिमी कस्तो
पूजामा एकचित छौ ?
आँखा खोलेर एकपल्ट हेर, तिम्रो मन्दिरमा देवता छैन !

जुन रुखा जमीनलाई नरम पारेर कृषकहरुले खेतीपाती गरिरहेछन्,
जुन ठाउँमा रोजगरीहरुले पत्थर फोरेर बाटा बनाइरहेछन्,
तिम्रो देवता त्यहीं गएको छ !

उ घाम–पानीमा सधैँ एकै रहन्छ,
उसका दुव हात माटोले पूर्ण छन्,
उसको नगीचमा जानुछ भने सुन्दर वस्त्र त्यागेर माटोले भरिएका
बाटाबाट जाऊ !
तिम्रो देवता मन्दिरमा छैन, भजन, पूजन, साधन एकातिर
राखिदेऊ !

Poem – Upon a Dying Lady

Her Courtesy

WITH the old kindness, the old distinguished grace,
She lies, her lovely piteous head amid dull red hair
propped upon pillows, rouge on the pallor of her face.
She would not have us sad because she is lying there,
And when she meets our gaze her eyes are laughter-lit,
Her speech a wicked tale that we may vie with her,
Matching our broken-hearted wit against her wit,
Thinking of saints and of petronius Arbiter.

Curtain Artist bring her Dolls and Drawings
Bring where our Beauty lies
A new modelled doll, or drawing,
With a friend’s or an enemy’s
Features, or maybe showing
Her features when a tress
Of dull red hair was flowing
Over some silken dress
Cut in the Turkish fashion,
Or, it may be, like a boy’s.
We have given the world our passion,
We have naught for death but toys.

She turns the Dolls’ Faces to the Wall
Because to-day is some religious festival
They had a priest say Mass, and even the Japanese,
Heel up and weight on toe, must face the wall
— Pedant in passion, learned in old courtesies,
Vehement and witty she had seemed — ; the Venetian lady
Who had seemed to glide to some intrigue in her red shoes,
Her domino, her panniered skirt copied from Longhi;
The meditative critic; all are on their toes,
Even our Beauty with her Turkish trousers on.
Because the priest must have like every dog his day
Or keep us all awake with baying at the moon,
We and our dolls being but the world were best away.

The End of Day
She is playing like a child
And penance is the play,
Fantastical and wild
Because the end of day
Shows her that some one soon
Will come from the house, and say —
Though play is but half done —
‘Come in and leave the play.’

Her Race
She has not grown uncivil
As narrow natures would
And called the pleasures evil
Happier days thought good;
She knows herself a woman,
No red and white of a face,
Or rank, raised from a common
Vnreckonable race;
And how should her heart fail her
Or sickness break her will
With her dead brother’s valour
For an example still?

Her Courage
When her soul flies to the predestined dancing-place
(I have no speech but symbol, the pagan speech I made
Amid the dreams of youth) let her come face to face,
Amid that first astonishment, with Grania’s shade,
All but the terrors of the woodland flight forgot
That made her Diatmuid dear, and some old cardinal
Pacing with half-closed eyelids in a sunny spot
Who had murmured of Giorgione at his latest breath —
Aye, and Achilles, Timor, Babar, Barhaim, all
Who have lived in joy and laughed into the face of Death.

Her Friends bring her a Christmas Tree
pardon, great enemy,
Without an angry thought
We’ve carried in our tree,
And here and there have bought
Till all the boughs are gay,
And she may look from the bed
On pretty things that may
please a fantastic head.
Give her a little grace,
What if a laughing eye
Have looked into your face?
It is about to die.

Poem – The Indian to His Love

THE island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.
Here we will moor our lonely ship
And wander ever with woven hands,
Murmuring softly lip to lip,
Along the grass, along the sands,
Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:
How we alone of mortals are
Hid under quiet boughs apart,
While our love grows an Indian star,
A meteor of the burning heart,
One with the tide that gleams, the wings that gleam
and dart,
The heavy boughs, the burnished dove
That moans and sighs a hundred days:
How when we die our shades will rove,
When eve has hushed the feathered ways,
With vapoury footsole by the water’s drowsy blaze.

Poem – Under the Round Tower

ALTHOUGH I’d lie lapped up in linen
A deal I’d sweat and little earn
If I should live as live the neighbours,’
Cried the beggar, Billy Byrne;
‘Stretch bones till the daylight come
On great-grandfather’s battered tomb.’
Upon a grey old battered tombstone
In Glendalough beside the stream
Where the O’Byrnes and Byrnes are buried,
He stretched his bones and fell in a dream
Of sun and moon that a good hour
Bellowed and pranced in the round tower;
Of golden king and Silver lady,
Bellowing up and bellowing round,
Till toes mastered a sweet measure,
Mouth mastered a sweet sound,
Prancing round and prancing up
Until they pranced upon the top.
That golden king and that wild lady
Sang till stars began to fade,
Hands gripped in hands, toes close together,
Hair spread on the wind they made;
That lady and that golden king
Could like a brace of blackbirds sing.
‘It’s certain that my luck is broken,’
That rambling jailbird Billy said;
‘Before nightfall I’ll pick a pocket
And snug it in a feather bed.
I cannot find the peace of home
On great-grandfather’s battered tomb.’

Poem – The Seven Sages

The First. My great-grandfather spoke to Edmund Burke
In Grattan’s house.
The Second. My great-grandfather shared
A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith once.
The Third. My great-grandfather’s father talked of music,
Drank tar-water with the Bishop of Cloyne.
The Fourth. But mine saw Stella once.
The Fifth. Whence came our thought?
The Sixth. From four great minds that hated Whiggery.
The Fifth. Burke was a Whig.
The Sixth. Whether they knew or not,
Goldsmith and Burke, Swift and the Bishop of Cloyne
All hated Whiggery; but what is Whiggery?
A levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind
That never looked out of the eye of a saint
Or out of drunkard’s eye.
The Seventh. All’s Whiggery now,
But we old men are massed against the world.
The First. American colonies, Ireland, France and India
Harried, and Burke’s great melody against it.
The Second. Oliver Goldsmith sang what he had seen,
Roads full of beggars, cattle in the fields,
But never saw the trefoil stained with blood,
The avenging leaf those fields raised up against it.
The Fourth. The tomb of Swift wears it away.
The Third. A voice
Soft as the rustle of a reed from Cloyne
That gathers volume; now a thunder-clap.
The Sixtb. What schooling had these four?
The Seventh. They walked the roads
Mimicking what they heard, as children mimic;
They understood that wisdom comes of beggary.

Poem – The Three Monuments

THEY hold their public meetings where
Our most renowned patriots stand,
One among the birds of the air,
A stumpier on either hand;
And all the popular statesmen say
That purity built up the State
And after kept it from decay;
And let all base ambition be,
For intellect would make us proud
And pride bring in impurity:
The three old rascals laugh aloud.

Poem – A Prayer for Old Age

GOD guard me from those thoughts men think
In the mind alone;
He that sings a lasting song
Thinks in a marrow-bone;
From all that makes a wise old man
That can be praised of all;
O what am I that I should not seem
For the song’s sake a fool?
I pray — for word is out
And prayer comes round again —
That I may seem, though I die old,
A foolish, passionate man.

कविता – रात्रि प्रतिक्षा

बादलहरुमा बादल छायो, अन्धकार भयो :
यस्तो समयमा पनि मलाई तिम्रो ढोकाको बाहिर, प्रतीक्षामा किन
बसायौ, मेरा प्रियतम !
दिन बितेपछि, बेलुकीपख, म दिनहुँ विविध काम अनि विविध
मानिसहरुसँग व्यस्त रहन्छु !
आज यो अँध्यारो बेलुकी यहाँ एक्ले केवल तिम्रै दर्शन गर्ने आशामा
म बसिरहेछु ।

तिमीले यदि आज पनि तिम्रो दर्शन दिएनौ भने, अनि मेरो आशाको
उपेक्षा गरिदियो भने, यो वर्षाको लामो रात कसरी बिताउनु ?

अति टाढाको नीलो आकाशलाई म निर्निमेष देखिरहेछु :
मेरो मन हावामा उड्दै बाखलहरुसित आकाशमा विहार गरिरहेछ,
मलाई एक्लै ढोकाको बाहिर किन बसायौ, मेरा प्रियतम !

कविता – नौलो पथ रेखा

एक दिन मेरो मनमा विचार उठयो :
जो हुनु थियो सबै भइसके, मेरो यात्राको आखिरी निर्दिष्ट स्थान
आइपुग्यो ।
मलाई ज्ञात भयो, अब अघि बाटो छैन, म मेरो भ¥याङमा आइपुगें ।व
अब कोशिशको केही आवश्यकता छैन, पाथेय पनि शेष भयो ।
थाकेको, हारेको जीवनलाई विश्रान्ति लिने वेला आयो ।
यमि फाटेका पुराना वस्त्र लिएर म अघाडि कसरी जान सकुँला ?
तर आज देख्दछु :
तिम्रो लीलाको अन्त नै छैन, नजीनताको कुनै घेरा छैन ?
आङ्खनो नयाँ मनोकामना पूर्ण गर्नाको लागि तिमलिे मलाई फेरि
नयाँ जीवन दियौ ?
मेरा गीतका पुराना स्वरले आङ्खनो माधुर्य हराए पनि नयाँ संगीतको
स्वरमा ह्दयको स्रोतबाट उत्पति भए !
जब पुराना पथरेखा अदृष्य भए अनि नयाँ नयाँ मार्गका दृष्यहरु
आँखामा नाच्न थाले !

कविता – उआइरहेको छ

उआइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ !
उसको पदध्वनि तिमीले सुनेका छैनौ ?
युग, पल–पल, दिनोदिन रातरात :
उ आइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ !
ह्दयको तरंगमा उसको कति गीत गाइसकेँ,
ती सब गीतको स्वरमा यही आवाज निस्कन्छ :
उ आइरहेको छ : आइरहेको छ : आइरहेको छ !
बसन्तको रमाइलो दिन, उ वनको बाटो भएर आउँछ,
साउनको अँध्यारो रातमा मेघको गर्जिरहेका रथमाथि चढेर
उ आउँदछ ।
जब दुःखमाथि दुःख आउँछ, सो दुःख होइन उसको चरण,
मनलाई छुन्छ ,
नब सुखको भान हुन्छ, त्यसैका चरणको स्पर्शले मन आनन्दित पार्छ,
त्यही चरण–ध्वनि नै मनको स्पन्दन हो !
उ आइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ, आइरहेको छ !

कविता – प्रहार गर

मेरो यही भावना छ : ईश्वर ! प्रहार गर, प्रहार गर, मेरो दिनताको
मुलमाथि मेरो ह्दय प्रहार गर !
शक्ति देऊ, म सुख–दुःखका चोट समानरुपले सहन सकूँ !
शक्ति देऊ, म मेरो प्रेम सेवामा पुष्पित पार्न सकूँ !
शक्ति देऊ, म दुवैलाई स्वीकार गरुँ अति निष्ठुर अस्तित्वको अगाडि
कहिले शिर ननिहुराउँ !
शक्ति देऊ, म सधैंका सानातिना संघर्षले आफ्नो मनलाई कोमल नपारुँ !
शक्ति देऊ, म तिम्रा आज्ञाको अघि आफ्नो अस्तित्वलाई प्रेमपूर्वक
समर्पित गर्न सकूँ !

कविता – जीवन पोखरी

जब जीवनको पोखरी सूखा हुन्छ, ह्दय कमलका पखेटाहरु
खुम्चिन्छन्, त्यस वेल तिमी करुणाका बादलहरुसँग उड्दै–घुम्दै
आउनू !
जब जीवनको सम्पूर्ण मिठास भएको कटुताको सुक्खा मरुस्थलमा
बदलियोस्, त्यस वेला तिमी गीतहरुको सरस गंगा बनेर आकाशबाट
झर्नु !
जब सांसारिक कामको कोलाहल दश दिशाहरुबाट उठेर गर्जिरहेको
होला अनि मलाई आङ्खनो सीमामा ने बन्दी बनाउला, त्यसैले हे
नाथ ! मेरोमा शान्ति र विश्राम–दूत बनेर आउनू !

जब मेरो दीन–हीन ह्दय आफैँ समातेर कुनामा बसिरहेको हुँला,
त्यस वेला हे उदार नाथ ! मेरो ढोका खोलेर राजसी–उत्सवसँग,
मेरो घरमा प्रवेश गर्नु !

जब प्रलोभनहरु आङ्खना उग्र धूलि तथा चम्किला वंचनाहरुले
विवेकलाई अन्धो पारिदिन्छन्, त्यसवेला तिमी हे नाथ ! आङ्खनो
तेज र आजस्वी ज्याति लिएर आउनू !
उ मेरो छेउमा आएर बस्या, तथापि म बिउँझिनँ
भाग्यहीन ! तिमीलाई यस्तो निद्रा कसरी आयो ?
उ आउँदा प्रशान्त रातको वेला थियो, उसको हातमा वीणा थियो,
मेरो स्वप्न उसको झङ्कारको स्वरमा रुमयिल्लएको थियो !
जागा भएपछि मैले देखेँ, दक्षिण दिशाका हावा चारैतिर अन्धकारमा
आङ्खना गन्ध प्रसारित गर्दै चलिरहेका थिए ।
मेरो सम्पूर्ण रात यसरी नै बित्यो ?
किन हो, उसको सासको स्पर्श त भयो तर दर्शनचाहिँ भएन ?
भाग्यहीन ! उसको कण्ठ–मालाले छाति स्पर्श गर्यो तर अङ्कमाल हुन
सकेन !

Kavita – Prem Sanket

प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम हो जो पात–पातमा स्वर्णाभा
बनेर चम्किरहेछ !
जसले लोसे मेघ आकाशमा जम्मा भइरहेछन्, सुवासित पवनले मेरो
मस्तिष्कमा जलकण छर्छ :
यमि सबै, हे मनमोहन ईश्वर ! तिम्रो प्रेम नै हो ।

आज प्रभातका आकाश–धाराले मेरा नयन भरिए :
यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो जो जीवनका कण–कणमा व्याप्त छ ।
तिम्रो चेहरा निहुरियो,
तिम्रो नेत्र मेरा नेत्रसँग मिले :
मेरो ह्दयले तिम्रो चरणमा स्पर्श गरिसक्यो !
प्रियतम ! म जान्दछु, यो तिम्रो प्रेम–संकेत हो ।

Kavita – Meghonmaad

आज जलपूर्ण मेघहरबाट पानी झर–झर गर्दै तल भरिरहेछ ।
आकाशलाई अस्वीकृत गरेर जलधारा धरतीमा आएको छ,
आज यसको कहीँ पनि अन्त देखिँदैन ।

बन, पर्वतमाथि उग्र आवाज गर्दै, बादलले योग दिइरहेछ ।
मैदानहरुमा पानीको खोला स्वतन्त्र रुपले बगिरहेछन् ।
आज मेघको केशराशि छरपुष्ट भएर कति सुन्दर नृत्य गरिरहेछ !

यो वर्षाले मेरो मन फेरी स्वतन्त्र भयो, अनि बादलसँग आकर्षित हुन लागेँ :

अन्तः करणमा आज कस्तो कोलाहल हुन लाग्यो !
ढोका–ढोकाका अवरोध चकनाचूर भइसके !

आज साउनका बादलहरुमा उन्माद भरिएको छ :
आज घरदेदि बाहिर को जान्छ र ?

Kavita – Prabhu Griha

जुन दिन ती वीर सिपाहीहरु आङ्खना प्रभुका घरबाट आए !
त्यस दिनदेखि तिनीहरुका गहकिला शक्ति स्वतः कहाँ विलीन भए !
तिनीहरुका हात–हतियार कहाँ छन् ?
तिनीहरुका शौय कता हराए ?
तिनीहरु क्षीण अनि असहाय झैँ भए ।
त्यही दिनदेखि तिनीहरुमाथि
चारैतिरबाट प्रहार हुनथाले ।
तिनीहरुका गहकिला शक्ति स्वतः कहाँ
विलीन भए ?
धनुष, बाण, तरवार कहाँ हराए ?

पुनः, जब तिन सिपाहीहरु प्रभुगृहबाट फर्केर गए, त्यस वेला
तिनीहरुको चेहरामा अति आनन्द झल्किरहेको थियो ।
आङ्खना सांसारिक जीवनका फलाफललाई
त्याग गरेर तिनीहरु
प्रभुगृहमा फर्किरहेका थिए ।

Poem – Dropping The Euphemism

He has five children, I’m papa
to a hundred pencils.
I bought the chair he sat in

from a book of chairs,
staplers and spikes
that let me play Vlad the Impaler

with invading memos. When I said
I have to lay you off
a parallel universe was born

in his face, one where flesh
is a loose shirt
taken to the river and beaten

against rocks. Just
by opening my mouth I destroyed
his faith he’s a man

who can think honey-glazed ham
and act out the thought
with plastic or bills. We sat.

I stared at my hands, he stared
at the wall staring at my hands.
I said other things

about the excellent work he’d done
and the cycles of business
which are like

the roller-coaster thoughts
of an oscilloscope. All this time
I saw the eyes of his wife

which had always been brown
like almonds but were now brown
like the crust of bread. We walked

to the door, I shook his hand,
felt the bones pretending
to be strong. On his way home

there was a happy song
because de Sade invented radio,
the window was open, he saw

delphinium but couldn’t remember
the name. I can only guess.
Maybe at each exit

that could have led his body
to Tempe, to Mars, he was tempted
to forget his basketball team

of sons, or that he ever liked
helping his wife clean carrots,
the silver sink turning orange.

Running’s natural to most animals
who aren’t part
of a lecture series on Nature’s

Dead Ends. When I told him,
I saw he was looking for a place
in his brain to hide

his brain. I tried that later
with beer, it worked until I stood
at the toilet to make my little

waterfall, and thought of him
pushing back from a bar
to go make the same noise.

Poem – Toward Accuracy

We’re high enough that what I call fog might be cloud.
Not Everest high, or Chomuolungma, “Mother Goddess
of the World.” If we named things what they are,
our sentences would be monsoons, long rains of sound.
Morning is “the time I suspect I am a horse,” dusk
“the light which treats our shadows like taffy.”
The number of times my name changes in a day,
from “looking at the world with eyes of wood rasps”
to “feathers have replaced my bones,” rules out
the wearing of name tags: I wear a chalk board,
thesaurus, that book of whispers, of meaning sex.
“There’s a woman who smokes a cigarette
now and then, who picks tobacco off her tongue
as something moves along the fault line
of the horizon, knees pulled to her chest,
her breath wearing a dress of smoke”
is one way I think of you when I think of you.
And when I think of you, “wants to be a candle”
isn’t romantic but accurate, wicked light
leans in, away, writhes to get out of, to leap harder
into what it is.

Poem – A Private Public Space

You can’t trust lesbians. You invite them

to your party and they don’t come,
they’re too busy tending vaginal
flowers, hating football, walking their golden
and chocolate labs. X gave me a poem

in which she was in love with a woman
and the church but the church
couldn’t accept four breasts in one bed.
When I asked if our coworkers knew,

she dropped her head and I said nothing
for years until this morning I realized
no one reads poems: my secrets and hers
are safe in verse. I knew she’d have enjoyed

the Beaujolais and I want to meet Dianne,
Mona Lisa, Betty, Alice,
the name’s been changed
to protect women who can’t stand in a room
holding hands because you can’t trust
heterosexuals to love love, however
it comes. So I recorded

the party for her, for them, the mic
a bit away from the action
to catch the feel of waves touching shore
and letting go, the wash of moods
across the hours of drink and yes, some grapes
were thrown and I breathed
the quickening revelation
of a cigarette, someone said “I gave up
underwear for Lent” and I hope

they play the tape while making love.
As if finally the world’s made happy
by who they are, laughing with, not at
the nipple lick clit kiss hug
in bed and after, the on and on
of meals and moons and bills
and burning days of pretending
they don’t exist. “Who’s she? Just

a friend.” And oceans are merely dew
upon the land.

Kavita – Jiwan Ko Andhyaro Sadakma

जीवनको अँध्यारो सडकमा
जीवनको अँध्यारो सडकमा


साइकलको डाइनमोबाट बल्ने बत्तीझैं लाग्छ

कि जबसम्म

गतिको पैडिलमाथि

मेरो खुट्टा चलिरहन्छ

मेरो पथमा यो बत्ती बलिरहन्छ

तर जसरी नै म थाक्छु

र मेरो खुट्टा रूक्छ

अन्धकार मेरो अगाडि आएर भुक्छ।

Kavita – Ghainto Bhitra 

साँघुरो घैटोभित्र माटो जमाएर
उमारिएको वटवृक्षझै

मैले आफ्ना दुइटा हाँगाहरु फैलाएँ

र म ओइलाएँ

आफ्नो वरिपरि निसािस्सदो पर्खाल पाएर

अनि मैले मुक्त वायुमा सास फेर्न ठिङ्ग उभिएका

आफ्ना पाँच ओटा औंलाहरु पट्याएँ

प्रकाशनको खोजीमा दगुरेका

आफ्ना हस्तरेखाहरुलाई पछाडि फर्काएँ

र आज म आफ्नै मुट्ठीभित्र बन्द छु

आफ्नै कठोरताभित्र कैद छु

तर कुनै दिन

तिमीले चिन्न सके आफुभित्रको बतासलाई

र प्रकाशलाई तिमीले

जान्नेछौ कि बाहिरबाट जतिसुकै

कठोर भए पनि भित्र–भित्रै

म कोमल छु

यो बन्द मुट्ठीभित्र हत्केलाझैं !

Kavita – Sandhai Sandhai 

सधै–सधै मेरो सपनामा
असङ्ख्य युवती आमाहरु

मेरो अगाडि आउँछन्

र बहुलाई झैं

‘अब मेरो दूधको कुनै मूल्य छैन

अब मेरो मातृत्वको कुनै अर्थ छैन—’

भन्ने गीत गाउँछन्

र मलाई देखाई–देखाईकन

सुँगुरका भद्दा गन्दा बन्चाहरुलाई झैं

आफ्नो अतिशय दुधले गानिएको

स्तन चुसाउँछन्

अनि एक्कासि

छाती पिट्तै

कपाल लुछ्तै मसँग आफ्ना हराएका छोराहरु माग्न थाल्छन्

सधै–सधै मेरो सपनामा

असङ्ख्य जीवनद्वारा लत्याइएका

र मृत्युद्वारा नपत्याइएका

जीर्ण तन वृद्धहरु

र बिदीर्ण मन बृद्धाहरु

मेरो अगाडि आएर लम्पसार पर्छन्

र मसँग

आफ्m्नो अथाह भविष्यको सूत्र माग्छन्

आफ्m्नो हराएको एकमात्र पुत्र माग्छन्

सधै–सधै मेरो सपनामा

असङख्य युवती विधवाहरु मेरो अगाडि आएर

आफुलाई सम्पूर्ण रुपमा नङ्ग्याउँछन्

र आफ्नो हिउँजस्तो कोमल तनमा

दुनियाँको कामुक आँखाले पोलेका

काला–काला डामहरु देखाउँछन्

र मसँग आफ्नो जीवनको सहारा माग्दछन्

मसँग आफ्नो यात्राको किनारा माग्दछन्

सधै–सधै मेरो सपनामा

क्षयका कीटाणु बोकेका

असङ्ख्य टुहुरा केटा–केटीहरु

मेरो अगाडि आउँछन्

र मसँग स्कूलको फीस

पुस्तक किन्ने पैसा

क्रिकेटको बैट

र पिताको चुम्बन माग्छन्

र माग्छन् सुरक्षा

र मिठो निद्राले भरिएको रात

यसरी नै सधै–सधै मेरो सपनामा

मलायाका असङख्य–असङख्य मानिसहरुको

आँसुको एक ठूलो सागर बन्छ

जसको प्रत्येक लहरमा

एक लाश माथि उठछ

एक लाश तल डुब्छ

तर डुब्नुभन्दा अगाडि मलाई

प्रत्येक लासले घृणाले हेर्छ

आह, मेरो सपनामा मलाई

मेरो विपनाको इतिहासले घृणा गर्छ ।

Kavita – Ek Sundari Beshya Prati

छ प्राप्तिको सुरा शरद् ! सुखोत्सवी छ मानव !
फली, फुकी, धनी धरा सुनौलिएर मुस्किइन् !
सुधा–उरीज सप्किंदी ! स्वभावमस्त ! मुस्कुरी !
ए सुन्दरी ? रसा सरी रुमाल फर्फराउँछयौ ?
रसाल भार रेशमी विचित्र चित्र रेखिए !
बन्यौ कि फूलले तिमी ? सुगन्ध ली हवा बहे !
रङ्गीन ज्यान झ्यालकी ! बजारबीचकी उषा !
उपास्दथें म अम्बिका ! झसङ्ग झैं यहाँ भएँ !
शरन्निशा तिमी झुकी, झिकी लजालु घूँघट,
स्मिति–प्रयोगिनी बनी, जिती सफेद चाँदनी,
सितारिंदी उदाउँछयौ ? बनाइ अङ्ग मख्मली ?
टुना गरेर चित्तमा चकोरका झिलीमिली ?
अनङ्गबाण झैं बस्यौ ? मिलिन्द डाक्न चञ्चली !
स्वरुप–शिल्पकारको टुना गवाउनाकन ?
म हूँ सितार स्नायुको, बजीरहेछु झन्किँदै !
समुद्र आज हो बडो छचल्किँदो जुनेलिँदै !
गुलाफतापले रचे विरिञ्चिले मनुष्य कि ?
मिलेर राग, वासना, फलिन्, फुलिन् वसुन्धरा !
छ मासुरङ्ग रेशमी लुगा लगाउने चरी !
अनङ्गबागमा बसी अलाप्दछे धनी सुरा !
जिती समाधि साधुको परी अपूर्व छिल्लिए !
छ मृत्तिका–प्रधान नै मनुष्यजीव, भूसुता !
म मासु–लाञ्छना गरी म पस्छु है चिसो गुफा !
म फूलको हूँ पारखी ! म पुज्छु सृष्टि, सुन्दरी !
मिहीन वाण हानिंदा, न घाउ लाग्नु हो शिला !
म मासुको हुँ ढुक्ढुकी ! म वेदना, म शास हुँ !
म चर्म रे ! म दृष्टि रे म रश्मिको जवाफ हुँ !
म हारको विहार रे ! म पादको सिँगार हुँ !
म स्वप्निंदो छु उर्वशी, जिलाउँदो छु मेनका !
मलाई दिव्य कामिनीको तिर्सना अनन्त छ !
म मत्तमा ! म मस्तता ! मलाई प्यास सुन्दर !
म अड्छु ! फुल्छु, हेर्छु रे ! मनुष्य पुष्प फर्फर !
इशार, फुल्छ चित्त यो ! पुकार, चल्छ छाति यो !
म मासुको गुलाफको मिठास के गरी भूलूँ ?
निसर्गको छ ऐन यो ! छ कृष्णलाई चैन यो !
समाधि–मग्न शम्भुको प्रकोपवादको खुशी !
म दीपको पतङ्गको अडान–निम्ति वार के !
यही त ब्रह्मपाश हो ! र बाँधिने मिठास हो !
यही चकोर प्यास हो ! हुनाको मात, आश हो !
म पौडिने तरङ्ग हो ! म मस्तिने सुवास हो !
न साँझ चान्द्र शैलमा प्रभापुरी अघि स्फुटी
गुलाफिइन् हिमालका समस्त टाकुरा जली !
यही अपूर्व कीर्तिले ! पखेरु खल्बल्याउँदै !
इशार स्वर्ग ! छैन त्यो भनेर भो म भन्दिन !
चिनेचिने सरी छ क्यै ! मलाई “आ” भनीकन
इशार्दछयौ ! म आउँला ! पिएर तृप्ति ल्यूँ अघि !
मलाई बोधिसत्वमा पु¥याउँ भन्छ पालुवा !
समस्त चारु चीजले मलाई आज डाक्दछन् !
तथापि अड्छु गौडले ! छ पर्श कालको यहाँ
जहाँ उडेर रङ्ग क्यै परेछ दाग द्धारमा !
तिमी गिज्याउँछयौ अरे ! म मूर्ख हैन, ए पख !
समाजलज्ज मान्नको छ देखिने अरु टक !
‘सुटुक्क झट्ट आ !’ भनी रुमाल फर्फराउँछयौ ?
कटाक्ष तीक्ष्ण लाउँछउौ ? सवाल मौन ल्याउँछयौ ?
यहीं छ द्धार, देख्छु है ! ए पर्ख ! क्यै निरख्छु है !
म देख्छु छूत मृत्युको ! त्यो चोइटो खसेछ है !
यहाँ त मृत्यु देखिनै हुँदैन रे तिमी जहाँ !
न हाँस ! कालको कथा कता कता सुनिन्छ है !
तिमी नजीक काल के ? म काल साथ लड्दछु !
तिमी भिडाउ सुन्दरी ? म मृत्यु साथ भिड्दछु !
उषा थिइन्, जली मरिन् ! सुवर्ण–साँझ अल्पिइन्
न आँशु हुन्, न तारका, वितान झल्झलाउँछ !
न देखिने खुँडा लिने मलाई क्वै सताउँछ !
कुचाल मार्छ सुस्तरी ममा प्रहार गर्न ए !
प्रसूनसाथ रोइनौ ? निशाग्र दृष्टि धोइनौ ?
र पुत्तली पखेरुका सुवर्ण–धूल छोइनौ ?
सुचारु साँझ जल्दथिन्, तिनी अगाडि रोइनौ ?
गलेर चाँदनी कणी, जली, ढली, थपोइनौ ?
म मार्छु मृत्यु सुन्दरी ! म क्रोधमा छु ! मार्न द्यौ !
विनाश चाल मार्छ रे ! म रोक्छु गर्व झर्न द्यौ !
म फूल झर्न दिन्न रे ! म रङ्ग उड्न दिन्न रे !
अहा ! यो मुस्कुरी पला अमोल हिँड्न दिन्न रे !
तँ वैंश ! अड् ! नमर् ! नमर् ! म गाउँला सदा ! सदा !
सुरा न सिद्धियोस् परी ! नशा भरी, र प्यास होस् !
तँ झ्यालको न नाश होस् ! तँ दृष्टि नित्य दास हो !
झकाइ, यो अटूट होस् ! तिमी, सदा निमन्त्रणा !
ए चन्द्रमा ! कला नफेर् ! तँ मेघ हे ! नजा नघेर् !
तँ पोज बस् ! तँ ओठ जी ! ‘मुसुक्क !’ मत्र्यता नवर् !
तँ नूर हो स्थिरप्रभा ! यहाँ छ कामिनी–शिखा
धधग् धधग् ज्वलन्त जो, तँ चित्त ! नित्य धग्धगा !
म वीर हुन्छु प्रेयसी ! शिंगार शस्त्रले तिमी !
पठाउ काल युद्धमा ! चढाउ अश्व, कल्पना !
अरण्यमा विशाल त्यो जहाँ गएर जानकी
दिएर रामवाहुमा प्रचण्ड शक्ति मुस्किइन् !
निचोर सृष्टिकी तिमी सजीव कामिनी बन्यौ !
तिमी, ममा छ विश्वको त फ्याक, फ्याक रे मुटु !
तिमी, म साथ चल्छ यो ! तिमी, म साथ फुल्छ यो !
हिमाल सम्झ पार्वती ! रसालकुञ्ज, राधिके !
अचम्म ! छौ बजारमा ? यहाँ कसोरि छौ तिमी ?
विशाल सृष्टि–वल्लरी प्रफल्ल एक पुष्प ए ?
म सोध्छु ए ! विचित्रकी तरङ्ग ! वृत्ति–बावली !
मभित्र बज्छ बाँसुरी, मिहीन औ पुरानिया !
न तौल अङ्गुली तिमी ! दशैं त मूल्य हो भनी !
हजार ज्यान अर्पिने विलासदास सामुमा !
अहो ! कसोरि सस्तियौ ? तिमी ? लसुन, प्याज झैं !
छ सानु रश्मि जो यहाँ, चढाउलाई हाँक खै ?
जमीनमा झरी बस्यो मिठासको महाफल ?
कहाँ छ टिप्नुको मजा ? र ज्यान जानुको रस ?
ए प्रेरणा विशालकी ! गंभीर–अब्धि कूलमा
बनेर रेणका म¥यौ ? जहाज–पाल बन्दिनौ ?
शहीद चारुको म ता ! प्रभातको विहङ्गम !
म स्वर्गपुष्प–चोर रे ! प्रताप आत्मदानको !
मलाई माग चाहियो ! मलाई आग चाहियो !
म भस्मबाट ब्यूँतिने विलासको चरा नहुँ !
म पूर्ण आपूm दिन्छु हे ! जुहारलाई ज्यान होस् !
मुहारलाई प्राण होस् ! मिटान निम्ति शान होस् !
म दिन्न अंशदान ए ! म सिंगुलै चढाउँछु !
नमाग यत्ति मात्र रे ! म आउँदो छु ! धाउँछु !
तिमी त सृष्टिधूलिका, मिले म विश्व रच्दछु !
विशाल सूनसान नै बसाउनेछु सुन्दरी !
कुँदेर चन्द्रखण्ड यो अपूर्व शिल्पकारले
छ मर्नु ! यत्ति मोलमा बिक्यौ भने प्रभावकारी !
बुझें ! बनेर व्यङ्ग्यकी विशालता तिमी बस्यौ
बजारमा समाजको, गिज्याइ आजको मुख ?
जहाँ छ साँढे स्वार्थको सुचारु पुष्प–भक्षक !
जहाँ छ राज्य मासुको र आँशुको जलाशय !
छ कीट लुब्ध पुष्पमा ! विनाशसार प्यार छ !
ठगी, अपूर्व रुपको ! र नोटको बजार छ !
चुरो किनिन्छ मानवी ! गरीबमाथि मार छ !
जहाँ समाज नामको कुनर्कको मुहार छ !
समानता अजीव छन् जहाँ, र ढ्वाँग सार छ !
अहा ! बनेर व्यङ्ग्यकी प्रदीपिका जल्यौ तिमी !
तिमी मनुष्य–मातृका ! तिमी सुधा ! तिमी क्षुधा !
विशाल विश्वदीपिका तिमी ! तमोमयी तृषा ?
यो लात हो विरिञ्चीमा ! यो सृष्टिमाथि लाञ्छना !
निसर्गको प्रवञ्चना !
यो दागदीप आजको ?
विशाल व्यङ्ग्य, व्यङ्ग्य हो !
समाजको समाजको !
प्रकोप–मूर्छिता चिता ! कराल सुन्दरी तिमी !
निशुम्भ, शुम्भ डाक्तछयौ ? प्रचण्ड, चण्ड, मुण्ड के ?
लगाइ रुण्ड मुण्ड के ! छछम् ! छछम् ! धिधिक् ! धिधिक् !
धपक्क बल्न इच्छियौ ? जमीन डग्डगाउँदै ?
ए व्यङ्ग्य ! व्यङ्ग्य नै बनी गिगिल्ल, हाँस झ्यालमा !
म बुझ्न सक्छु कालिके !
सिंगारिई सुरा पियौ ?
ल नाच ए भयङ्करा !
सती, प्रलाञ्छिता, भृता, प्रकुण्ठिता, प्रवञ्चिता,
रुलाउँछयौ विभेदले, झिझिल्किएर शानमा !
शठात्म–रुण्डमुण्डको झुलाउ माल्य अङ्गले !
मताउ ती महापशु ! प्रताडन अगोचरा !
स्वरुपमा नदेखिई, स्वभाव के लुकाउँछयौ ?
रुमाल के फुकाउँछयौ ?
गिगिल्ल, फर्फराउँछयौ ?
मुसुक्क काम पुत्तली बनी तिमी छकाउँछयौ
दशाङ्गुली, गनी, गनी,
“तँ आ !” भनी
जनाउँछयौ ?
जनाउँछयौ वलि ?
छली ?
नमाग पेटले तिमी मलाई ! डर्छु हे खरी !
नडाक मासुले तिमी मलाई ! जल्छ है डढी !
म धीर, वीर मर्द रे ! सहन्न मान–हानि यो !
नजिस्क, जानिजानि यो !
नजिस्क है !
म डाटुँला, न रुप चिने सरि ?
ए फ्याउरी !
ए स्निग्ध घोडा घाँसकी
खरिद प्यार मासुकी !
ए गर्त ! यौनप्यासकी !
ए पुत्तली विनाशकी !
विकारकी ए दाउ ए !
सँभाल वृत्ति आउ हे
लुकी, छली, नखाउ औ चपाउ हे ।
समाजध्वंसकी तिमी मिठीमुहार माउ हे !
न मान्दछयौ भने हरे !
छ के सिवाय वेवशी ?
ए उर्वशी !
यो कत्रो रीस , कत्रो रीस ?
भन्दछयौ “त्यहीं बसिस् ?
न आस्यमा, न आस्यमा,
परिस्, मरिस् ?”
लुकाई गन्ध क्रोधको, ज्वलन्त क्वै चितासरि,
शिकारका खरानीले घसी मुहार सुन्दरी,
महाशिखा !
उडाउँछयौ प्रलोभिनी !
यो इविनिङ् पेरिस् !
अपूर्वकी कला बनी
दिई जगत्मा लात के ?
खसाल्न गर्तमा सिक्यौ
प्रलुब्ध पूँजीपातके ?
ए काम वारिवाहकी निवासिनी सुदामिनी !
गिराई वज्र ज्योतिको,
बिलाउँछयौ निरुत्तरा ?
छुँदै लिएर प्राण के ?
हराउँछयौ विनाडर ?
ए सृष्टि वारि–वर्षिणी !
ए नागिनी ! ए दंशिनी !
प्रहासिनी !
ए पाशिनी !
ए सृष्टि–माउ ! सृष्टिकी प्रभक्षिणी,
अभागिनी !
पुजूँ कि पाद ? स्त्री–प्रभा !
हिलाऊँ प्राण–चामर ?
सजूँ कि शून्य सुन्दर ?
बजाऊँ भित्र घण्ट यो ?
बजाऊँ पाठ ! कण्ठ यो ?
रचूँ नयाँ जगत् म के ?
असी र चार प्यारका तयार पारुँ व्यञ्जन ?
अपार सद्य अज्मिए
प्रवेश गर्दछयौ ? भन !
त्यजेर छद्य चाल यो, के सत्यरुप धर्दछयौ ?
के कल्प, कल्प मातमा,
म साथमा दुगुर्दछयौ ?
ए पोथी शक्ति ! भूसुता !
लिएर जाल रेशमी सुवर्ण–मत्स्य–दिल कुनै,
अमोलको, खगोलको,
समुद्र–नीरबाट के शिकार्न शौक गर्दिनौ ?
ए पाल ! तालमा त्यहाँ !
हिमाल–सानुका मनि !
खिलाउँदी, पिलाउँदी र प्यारले जिलाउँदी !
जो सत्यमा छ, सम्झ हे !
स्वधम्र्मको सदा विधि !
म क्रुद्ध हुन्छ !
ठान्दछयौ जगत् भरी चले मिशीन ?
मिशीन मात्र चल्दछन् ?
अजीव छन् सबै ?
सबै ?
नज्यूँदछन् कुनै दिल, यहाँ तल ?
बुझी, चल !
म हैन प्राणहीन हे !
म हुँ उत्ताल जिन्दगी !
म भावको हुँ आँकुरा !
म दिव्यजाल माकुरो !
म जान खोन्छु के ठगी !
चरी सँगी ?
नशा हुँ अग्निको म ता !
म बाफ चक्षुनीरको
प्रवाहमा यो श्वासको समीरको !
छुँदैन यी पुकारले ,
ए छोइयू !
धुने भएन आँशुले ?
ए धोइयू !
परेर प्ररणा तिमी
झिलिक्क पङ्ख फोइयू !
म सत्ते रोइरा’ छु ए !
म आफु खोइरा’ छु ए !
ए सत्य रुपमा झर !
न फेरि लाञ्छना गर !
पचाउँछयौ नि बूझ है !
तिमी मलाई ल्यौ सबै !
ए आत्मा ! आऊ ! स्वर्ग जाऊँ
अन्भ, अन्भ, साथमा !
कुनै अपर्श उच्चता लिएर सद्य लौ सजूँ
रङ्गीन अभ्र पातमा !
कूचो समाऊ रश्मिको ! बढार पूर्व आँगन !
म साथ शक्ति ! घोसल !
विचित्र अग्नि माँगन !
निहार बेलिपूmलको टपक्क एक जीवन !
धु्रव–प्रदेशतारका अपारका निहारन !
जहाँ घुमेर साथमा अभेद्य ज्योति दम्पति,
सँगाल्छ विश्वसम्पति !
विचार अङ्क एकको उदेक ए
जहाँ दुई !
छ छाल, उछ्लिने
अनन्त–आँतको भरी
बोलाउँदै परस्परी !
महामरु प्रफुल्ल हुन्छ,
सर्छ सृष्टिवल्लरी !
तिमीले मन्त्र यो शिके,
“म अर्पिए सँधैभरि !”
म अश्रुसिन्धु हुन्छु ए !
डुबी डुबी तिमी मर !
जिई वर !
छ प्यारको हिमालयी महाघर !
गजूरमा छ त्यो मजा !
अनन्तसौख्यको ध्वजा !
जहाँ तुषार प्यारमा
उषा चढुन् शिंगारमा !
हारमा !
समाज आऊ लौ ! तरुँ !
बगाऊँ धार प्यारको !
किनारमा बसी रचूँ !
पुरी नयाँ अपारको !
घडाभरी छ, चन्द्रमा !
कलङ्क ध्वौ, बगी झर !
यहाँ पर !
के जिल्ल पर्दछयौ अरे ?
म उच्च–बुद्धि–पागल !
भए त कालिका, छली !
विनाशदीप सक्कली !
ए मानिसै भए पनि
मनुष्यको अरण्यमा मृतासमान एकली !
धराकलि !
मलाई चर्म देख्दछयौ ?
कि नोटका ठूला बिटा ?
न मर्म या निरख्दछयौ ?
सुतेछ हाय ! देवता !
सकारिनौ त प्यार के ?
ए ओर्ल ! छौ तयार के ?
भयो, भयो, न दृक् तर ?
क्षुधा, क्षुधा, रही मर !
तृषा, तृषा, सधैंभर !
डटेर झ्यालमा बस !
डढाऊ लौ बनारस
अधर्मिणी ! हिंडे पर !
सलाम ! भो क्षमा गर !
बिगार्दछयौ मुहार के ?
जगत् पखाल्न शक्दथ्यौ !
हिलो भर !
सडी मर !

Kavita – Ma

स्वर्ग र भूको सूक्ष्म हुँ स्पन्दन–
दाना तिलको,
यति छु मसिनो ! सक्छ को सम्झन ?
दिल झिल्को ?
अलग सचेतन सागर चेतन
कण जलको !
जति जति गिर्दछु उति उति उठ्दछु !
अन्त न बलको
विश्व बनाउँछु, विश्वधनी छु—
क्षण–झुल्को ।
सृष्टि, स्थिति र प्रलय म भोग्दछु,
प्रतिपलको ।
मेरा नीलिम गहिराइमा
मेरै अनिलको
तपन, जपन र अन्तः स्वपन छन्
ऋजु र कुटिलको ।
सब ती विसर्जन मिल्दछु जलमै,
जल–फुल्को !
जोरिन्छ जतातिर मानवतासँग,
साँध यो दिलको,
अनन्त शक्ति र ज्योति छु उत्तम
युगको अमर झिल्को !

Kavita – Kshitij Tira

पर पर कुइरी नील किनारा,
स्वर्ग झरीकन जिमीमा छुन्छ,
लामो सडकमा अडी यसबार,
दूर चिहाई दृगले गुन्छ ।
बहुविध पत्थर कङ्कड, काँढा,
बाढी, खाडी, उकाली हुन्छ,
ओर्ली किरण र उक्ली डाँडा,
दूर शिखरमा स्वर्ग नुहुन्छ ।
दिनदिन हेरन नील–काढाँमा,
माकुरीको जाल रहन्छ,
दिनको उज्यालो पर पाटामा,
बाटामा तर कुइरो बहन्छ ।
मानिस आफैं आफ्नो डरमा,
आँखा चिम्ली कैद रहन्छ,
आफैं मगन्ता आफ्नो घरमा,
मृत्यु पुजीकन मृत्यु सहन्छ ।
दुःखले पायो हेर्न कहाँ पर ?
मुटु शर पन्छी दृग चिमलिन्छ,
चतुर्मुखी अघि बन्दछ अमुखर,
घाट र घर बीच तित रुमलिन्छ ।
चिथरो दौरा, आधी छ नाङ्गो,
टोपी शिरमा गोल धरो छ,
गन्धक तन औ हर क्यै बाङ्गो,
भरिया मनिरै ठिङ्ग बरो छ !
कल्पिरहेछु शिखर किनारा
सुन्दर बस्ती श्रमको झलमल,
पूरा मानव हँसमुख सारा,
नव युगलोचन रचना उच्चल !
आँधीहरुमा झर्छन् तरुवर,
तिनमा तारागणले रुन्छ,
हुरी चढेका मानवहरु तर,
भोलि दिनले सम्झिरहन्छ ।

Kavita – Grahan Nuhaundi Prati


सूर्यकी दुहिता ! चन्द्रकी भगिनी !
ए युवती ! गर स्नान !


अनार पालुवा लाल रहन्न
थाक्दछ बुलबुल गान !
समयले सुन्दर स्वपना सहन्न !
टुट्दछ रेशम तान !


यस पोकाम बिच्छी पस्छन्,
साँप हिलामा बस्छन् ।
मैला बेहोशीका क्षणमा
क्रूर जहरले डस्छन्
धोई राख्नुपर्दछ यस्तो
रातो रेशम थान !


अनन्त सम्झी मानव–जीवन
प्रलय भुल्दछौ हामी
क्षणका अन्धा दास बनीकन,
भ्रमका सुन्दर सदन बनाउन,
छौं नामी !


सूर्य पिताको मुखमा राहु छ !
किरणहरुमा बार !
हिउँ हुने शङ्का मातालाई छ ।
खण्डहरको दुःस्वप्न कडाले
झस्किरहेछ संसार !


जीवन–ज्योतिमा छाया पर्दछ,
किन बिरसौं ?
मत्र्यताको स्याउ रङ्गको
यस कायामा मृत्युको छाया
छोइरहेछ !
किन हरषौं ?


महाकालको दर्शन पायौं
ग्रास विषे !
छूत लाग्दछ पन्छीहरु लौ ?
क्या तरसे !
पृथिवीको हो यो गङ्गाजल !
स्नान गर !
चिसो छामोस् मूर्ख कलेवर !
सविता परका सविताको
भजन गर !


भूनिशाको यस छायामा
सूर्य बसे !
मत्र्यताको होश नराखे,
हृदय नधोए
यस्ता क्षणमा
साँप पसे !


बाग्मतीमा मध्याह्न
ग्रस्त महान् !
तर्सेकी चरी क्वै
गर्छ स्नान !


बैंशचुलीमा छाया छ !
यो हो हृदय पखाल्ने बेला !
आवान यो हो महाश्मशानको !
धोऊ, गङ्गाजलले सुन्दरी !
अल्पायु सुनौला चोला !


ग्रहण बुझेका स्नाताहरुको
हृदय पखाल्ने भू–जल छ !
अवनिपुष्पमा बादल छाया !
विश्वास किरणमा निर्मल छ !

Kavita – Asia

अमृत कलकल वाणी !
ज्वालामुखको तिम्रो माला, द्धीपपुञ्जको भूषण ।
“आमा” भन्दछ आधा मानव, लाख विहङ्गम वाणी !
अगणित तिम्रा राष्ट्र–अङ्गमा जागृतिको छ तरङ्ग,
रङ्ग छ एक बिहानी !
जाग जाग हे !
शिखर लाग हे !
चिरनिद्रित दृग मिच ज्ञानी !
निर्मल हृदय छ तिम्रो वैकाल, वल्कसको जल–खानी !
प्रथम किरणकी ऊँची चुली, प्रथम सृष्टिकी रस लहरा !
सभ्यताकी गुरुमा नि !
सकल धम्र्मकी किरण–केन्द्र ए ! विश्वकी पहली बिहानी !
पामीर तिम्रो विश्व–छत्र हो ! झ्यालमोलङ्मो कीर्ति–चुली !
स्टानोभोइदेखिन् एल्बुर्जपर्वत–हार बयानी !
निहुरिन्छयौ तिमी यूरालउपरमा चुमी यूरोपा रानी,
उत्कर्षहरुको खानी !
चिरशोषित हे ! चिरदूषित हे !
जाग, जाग हे जाग !
अरबौं जनका जनशक्ति लिई उन्नति–पथमा लाग !
उच्चारन हे विश्वप्यारको,
विश्व–शान्तिको वाणी—
महाद्धीपकी ए महारानी !
आर्य र मङ्गोल द्राविड, निग्रो, कमचटूकी या जापानी,
सुमेरुदेखिन् वालीसम्मन् यूराल फुजी सीमानी,
एक लहरमा सब लहरेलान् !
एक प्रभावले सब सिहरेलान् !!
एक हि लक्ष्य निशानी !
मानवताको झन्डा उचाली !
युगका कुइरा फाली !!
एक सूत्रमा सकल राष्ट्रको प्यारको माला गाँसी,
भाइ परस्पर जानी !
उच्चालित होऊ !
उच्चालित होऊ !
जाग जगत्मा, मावनताको
जीवशक्ति प्रमाणी !
महाद्धीपकी ए महारानी !
सकल विभवकी खानी !
जाग एशिया रानी !
चीन छ तिम्रो वीर सुपुत्र सिंह उठेको अब शानी
रुस सदृशको तनय विशाल छ, विश्वविजेता विज्ञान ।
तर भूतलमा आज छ राती,
थरथर काँप्दछ मानवजाति,
आण्विक ली पशुबल कोही धम्की दिन्छ नजाती,
तिमीले बोक्नु छ आश–दियाली
तिमीले अमृत–थाली
तिमीले बटार्नु छ सूत्र सुनौला, प्रेमको पन्था चाली !
विश्वशान्तिकी ध्वनि बन शानी !
महाद्धीपकी महारानी !
जाग छ आज बिहानी !!

Poem – Barsha

आइन् वर्षा हररर चढी वायुपङ्खी विमान,
पाङ्ग्रा घर्षी शिखर गरजी थर्कियो आसमान ।
झिल्के झिल्का, अचल मुख भो त्रासले नील गाढा,
चूली नाघिन् प्रकृति कलिलिन्, देखिंदै दूर टाढा ।
बाफैको हो रथ त हलुका, शानले त्यो विशाल
पत्रे बुट्टा रजत–तहमा पर्छ कल्सिन्छ छाल ।
मुस्किन् विद्युत् वरुणदुहिता साँवली कोमलाभा
गोरा डाँडा विचरन चुली उल्किई, देखिंदामा ।
फर्फर पार्छिन् चदर हलुका, लत्रिंदो, मेघ ह्वैन,
लाखौं मोती—लुङ नपहिरी चित्त बुझ्ने हुँदैन ।
पोल्टो झोली रतन—निधिका स्नेहले मुस्कुराइन्,
यौटा मोती—लुङ चुँडिन गै शैलमा झर्झराइन् ।
नाच्दी, कुद्दी, हरष उछली, यानमै आजलाई
आएकी ती तुहिन–कलिली पार्वती भेट्नलाई,
गाँऊ भन्छिन् जगत् छहरी स्वर्गको दिव्य तान,
ठाडा बन्छन् श्रवण कविका शीतलो सुन्न गान ।
आशङ्काले भुरभुर गुँडै सम्झिंदा पङ्ख नाना
जाओ बच्चाहरु नतरसून् गर्जिदा स्वर्ग–छाना,
लर्बर् गर्दा कुशल कमिला ! लौ गरे हे हतार,
तेसै ओर्ली चिर चकँरिंदो चील ! होला अबेर ।
तस्वीरै झैं अलि छिन उडी वायुले पक्ष फेर्दा,
सन्नाटामा तरुवरहरु ! उक्लिंदो खात हेर्दा,
पर्खी बस्थ्यो पवन पहिलो सुन्न फर्मान दूर
तिम्रा राजा सलिलनिधिका ! लौ सुने यो नुहेर !
“लाखौं मूरी रतन–जलका वायु मैले उचालें,
पारावार प्रभुहृदयका उच्च आदेश पालें,
बाफीला ती रजत घटका चारु बान्की उचालें,
वर्षी बोकी वरणदुहिता पार्वती भेट्न थालें ।
“लेखें मैले जलदपटमा अक्षराकार धेर,
इच्छा छारा प्रभु वरुणको, वर्षको यो सवेर,
हाँगा, लच्की, लहर लहरी, खातिई, पत्रिएर
बोल्दा छन् ती अमिट सुरमा कान थापेर हेर ।
“तानाशाही दिनकर भए, सुन्छु यस्तो फिराद,
मेरो छाती जल, जल छ ! ती सन्किएछन् फसाद !
दण्डी दिन्छु स्थगन रविको राजको होस् धरामा,
शून्याभासी कुछ दिन बनून्, दुःख भो उर्वरामा ।
“बच्चा ! दुःखी ! हिम अचलका पङ्ख ! प्राणी ! प्रशाख !
तिम्रा भेजा मम हृदयका रत्न छन् लेउ लाख !
लामा छाया सजल घनका लाख तिम्रा सियाल !
रङ्गीचङ्गी धनु विजयको, दैन्य सारा पखाल ।
“धूली खोला सलिल, वरर्षी शानजस्तो अटूट,
पाई प्राणी अमृत–लहरी फस्टिनेछन् अछूट,
दौरामा छन् जलधि–दुहिता, साम्य कारुण्यभाव,
फैली चाँडो मुख अवनिको, हुन्छ, आनन्द–लूट ।
“पृथ्वी फल्लिन् सलिल–कलिली धानले छापिएर
गाई रोप्लान् चपलवयसी, दृक्–बिजुली लिएर ।
बाली राम्रो, तृण अति हरा, वर्ष राम्रो कबूली
पारावार प्रभु–हृदयको फुट्छ सङ्गीत केली ।
“मीठा, मीठा अमृत रसका बिज्जुले लाख, लाखा
भर्दै राम्रा फल तरुहरु पाउँछन् भन्न, ‘चाख’ ।
भारी शाखा शरदऋतुमा लच्किंदा दानलाई,
मेरो इच्छा यति छ, यति हो नील आदेश, भाइ !
“लौ लौ गाओ दल दल वनै, वृक्ष हो ऊठ सारा,
बर्षे घैंटा घट घट गरी स्वर्ग–पीयूष धारा ।
दर् दर् दर्के अमित–कनिका, प्यून लागिन् धराले,
उफ्री, नाची चल विटप हो, पाउनेटौ जराले,
“यो बेला हो रस–मिलनको, प्राप्तिको यो चहाड,
यो गानाको गगन, जनको कल्पनाको बहाड,
यो पौडीको सुखजलधिमा फूल रातो असारे
झन्डा सम्झी, मुजुर–मन भै पिच्छमा रङ्गधारे ।”

Poem – Ughrera Bigreko Bihan

रोई रात, किटेर दन्त, पगली, झाँक्रो फिँजारी, झरी,
आत्मा तुल्य स्वदेशकी, दुःख परी, क्रन्दी, पुकारा गरी,
धच्की द्धार समस्त न्यायमुखरी घुँक्की, हुरी भै उडी
आयो क्रान्तिपछाडि शान्तिसरिको यौटा बिहानी घडी !
दुष्ट स्वप्न विनष्ट भो, तिमिर गो, गो काठिने शासन !
धोएको छ हवा, तथापि धनको यो व्योममा आसन !
टुक्रा धूर्त भए, वरिपरि रहे, चाँदी बनी फूलिए !
चूली–चञ्चल–हात बाल रविको पीछा गरी डम्मिए !
यौटा घोष भयो सुवर्ण–स्वरको उत्तुङ्ग है श्रृङ्गमा !
तान्थी जागृति आँग भूमितलमा, न्यानो पसी अङ्गमा !
बोले पङ्ख उडेर अल्प हुन गो आनन्द सारा तर !
छोप्यो बादलले, चिसो जगत भो, आगो निभ्यो सुन्दर !
रोगी हुन्छ बिहान, दुर्बल तथा रुन्चे, निकम्बा अब !
आँधी हो कि कराउने ? विफल भो विस्फोटको, गौरव !
काँपी थुर्थुरि घाम भाग्छु दुनियाँ आशा टुसैमा मरी !
आगो बाल्नुप¥यो घरैघर बसी, को खप्छ यो थुर्थुरी !

Poem – Manis Birat

सहस्रशीर्ष, सहस्रपाद !
झल्किरहेछ एक विराट् !

अल्प सहस्र संवत्सरले केवल, जिनतिन,
उसका इङ्गित
हामी सारा नेपाली हुँ !
हाम्रो देश छ हाल,
एक अनाविष्कृत केवल,
एक अनुच्चारित, कल्पनु
परको, लोक कमाल !
अदृष्ट विशाल ! नेपाल !

नागहृद्मा वनकणीमा,
मानिस जन्म्यो,
हरियो फूल !
सम्भावनाको क्षितिजद्धारमा,
प्रथम पर्वतको यो किनारमा !
माछो, कछुवा, वराह र वामन,
बन्दै दारमा !
सिंढी चढ्दो, बढ्दो अगाडि,
पूर्ण पछाडि, पुकारमा !

माटो फूल भो
ओठको लागि !
बास्नी खुल्न !
फूल, चरा भो,
उड्न र बोल्न !
पछि भो पन्छी,
पिउन, उछल्न !
मानिस हुन गो !
मुटु विराट्को
छाम्न, छिचोल्न !

कोरा मानिस, हिउँको थुप्रो !
खाडी, बाढी !
मानव–पदार्थ सब–माटो, हावा,
अग्नि अनादि !

विकृत मानिस, सर्प, भ्यागुता,
गोही, डाँस !
घूँघा, गधा !
या सिस्नो, बाँस !
मानिस एउटा बनिरहेछ !
‘सोऽहं, सोऽहं !’ भनिरहेछ !

हामी तारा धूली धुलेका,
मन्दोष्ण कणी,
ताराका हुँ हामी पनाति,
नेबुलाका हामी जनाति,
सूर्यका नाति,
पृथ्वीका छोरा ।
चन्द्रका भाइ, बहिनी पनि !
स्वर गङ्गामा !
पछिको पोषण सार यहाँ छ !
पृथिवीमा !
यहाँ विराट्को एउटै मुटुको
ढुकढुक चल्छ !
कोटी पादले कोही चल्छ ।
कोटी शीर्षले कोही टटोल्छ ।
कोही बोल्छ ।

बहिनी रेणु ! दाज्यू हिमाल !
हामी उसका जीवकणी हुँ !
एउटै मानिस सबमा दुगुर्छ,
प्रति चेष्टाले उसका, हामी,
एक एकमा एक अनन्त,
अखिल धनी हुँ !

मिरमिर मानिस माटोमा छ !
तिरमिर मानिस सूर्य किरणमा !
छिरबिर मानिस वनमा त्यहाँ छ !
एउटा मानिस झल्किरहेछ,
सब वस्तुमा, सब जनमा !

पूरा, अधूरा
मिरमिर ! किरमिर !
एउटा मुटुको ढुकढुक, ढुकढुक !
एक कल्पना, छिर िबर, छिरबिर !
एक रुधिरको धावन, सिरसिर !

विश्वहरुको जोड गरीकन,
एउटा विश्व बन्यो !
विश्वहरुका राजा मिलीकन
एउटा राजा बन्यो !

एउटा मानिस ढाक्दछ नेपाल !
थल, जल, आकाश !
निल्दछ देश र निल्दछ काल !
बन्छ विशाल !
विश्व जीवनीको गाना गाउँछ !
मीठो ठाँट !
मानिस विराट् !

Poem – Yug Balak

पिन्चे, लुत्याहा, परेवा–छाती
पुट्ट, सिँगाने, भुस्याहा साथी,
काँढा !
घ्यारघ्यार बिरालोको घाँटी,
जाँडा ।
यही न हाम्रो भविष्य सुई हो !
टाढा !
देवदूतले अभिशापित भुइँ हो,
ईश्वरलाई दुःख दिन दुई छन्,
राँडा ।
चित्र रङ्गीन उज्याला हेर्दछु,
बाल !
स्याउ फलेका, अनार फुटेका
लाल !
कसरी आउला नवीन सुनौला
छाल ?
यस्तो यत्रो देवदूतको
हेला ?
यो लापर्वाही, यो लाचारी,
मेला ?
“आउँदैनौँ” भने ती यसतिर फेरि
जेलाँ ?
सुन्दर झर्ने कसरी असुन्दर
भेला ?

Poem – Aho Malai Tajoob Lagchha

थलथल माछो नृसिंह जाग्छ !
वानस्पत अणु मङ्गल माग्छ !
बानर एउटा चन्द्रमा ताक्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

मृतकणी औ किरणको शादी,
थियो अगाडि !
एक प्यारको स्पन्दन जाग्छ !
कस्तो त्यसको सन्तति अगणित,
दुनियाँ ढाक्छ !
माछो, कछुवा, वराह, वामन !
इतिहास लाग्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

कोही अदुभुत मिरमिर सिँढीमा
ढीलो सुस्त,
चढिरहेको जस्तो लाग्छ !
अस्ति आजको अन्तर देखी,
चमत्कार नै निहुरी भाग्छ !
भोलि कल्पन हुन्छ असम्भव,
क्षितिज किनारा पर, पर लाग्छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

अङ्ग पल्हायो, अङ्ग बिलायो !
छैटौँ इन्द्रिय यसको क्या हो ?
किरणकणीले आत्मा बेह्री
मासुरङ्गको, पृथिवीको क्या !
पोशाक लगायो !
जल, थल, नभको विजयी बन्न
मन्त्रदान के यसले पायो ?
कालकर नै पक्री गिज्यायो !
मृत्यु छिचोली हेर्ने ताक छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

आफ्नै वेगले हार, गुहारमा,
पुच्छ्रे तारो यो आकाश–किनारमा !
परमाणु फुटाई आफ्नै, निभ्छ कि ?
आफ्नै किरणले, आफ्नै घरमा ?
राम बालक छ, रावण जाग्छ,
कैलाश हिलाई शक्ति नै माग्छ !
कसले जित्दछ ? कसले राज्छ ?
यस लङ्कामा भीषण भाग छ !
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

खण्डहरहरुको सपना देख्दछु !
माकुरोको जेहेनी जाली !
कमिला गजबका शहर बनाउँछन्,
प्रबन्ध निकाली !
भीर पुगेका बस्तु देख्दछु,
कोही डाक्छ !
तर्सी उठ्दछु झट्ट कहाली !
सातो भाग्छ
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

कुन होला त्यो, तारा–जङ्गल
—फूलको धागो, जसले गाँस्छ !
रातभर कहिले सुत्दिन, साथी !
त्यो धागोको छेउ भेट्टाई,
तानूँ तानूँ जस्तो लाग्छ !
मुटुभन्दा झन् गिदी पो दगु¥यो !
यसमा अभाग छ !
मन्त्रले आँधी हान्ने ढुक्कुर,
पक्रूँ भन्दा किन पर भाग्छ !
खलबल मन भो, निद्रा नलाग्छ !
शङ्का, आशा किन यति जाग्छ ?
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ ?

चन्द्रमाले यो जाति
माथि डाक्छ ?
मङ्गलमा के नव आबादी
यसको लाग्छ ?
बन्ला हृदय कि ? सीमा नाघ्छ ?
अहो ! मलाई ताजूब लाग्छ !

Poem – Maal Kindi

समय बराबर प्यारले फर्की,
उल्टो छाल
हान्छ कमाल !
किनकि अगाडि क्यै झल्केथ्यो,
बेहोश वेगमा,
स्वर्गको माल !

सम्झनाले गिज्याइहिछ बोक्रालाई,
निद्रालाई तन्द्रालाई,
ऊँगलाई आत्माको !
“तैले बेंक्मा राखेमध्ये
कुन हो अक्षर ?
कुन हो सुन्दर ?
के ले जिउँछन् रातमा यो ?”

क्षणहरुले लुटिरहन्छन्
नित्य मलाई
गरीब बनाई,
सम्झनाले लुटेर तिनकन,
“लौ ला” भन्छे — यो भारी चीज,
खोसी ल्याएँ !
तेरो, तँलाई !

अलकत्राले कालो सडक छ
नकली माल रङ्गीन भडक छ !
दिनकरको छ यात्रा अन्त !
बाँकीपुरमा याद अटक छ !
बिजुली–तारमा एक चटक छ !
पृथिवी बन्छिन् बैकुण्ठ !

स्वर्गावतरित सन्ध्या ओर्ली
पसल–सींढीमा ओर्लन खोज्छिन् !
ज्योतिषी छन् साथी दृग दुई
जब नव तारा झल्किन रोज्छिन् !
उज्यालो भनेको अमृत हो !
जिइरहन्छ, जिलाइरहन्छ !
ती झल्किथिन्, लझ गुँज्छिन् !

फेला परयो तब एउटा ताला !
खुले हृदयको सारा कोठरी,
ऐनावाला !
झल्किन् हजारौं रङ्गले
बाला !
नशा, नशाका तार भरी क्यै बिजुली दुगु¥यो,
ज्वाला माला !

सुन्दरीजल झर्ना झरेथ्यो
जीवन–चक्र घेर घुमाई !
दुनियाँका सब नगरी झिलमिल
पारुँ जस्तो लाग्यो मलाई !

दिनकर डुबेथे यत्ति निम्ति !
बिजुली बलेथे यत्ति लागि !
अनन्त क्षणहरु भुरभुर उडेथे
ठाउँ बनाउन यस क्षण लागि !
म पनि सारा संसार घुमेथें
पाउन यत्ति, यत्ति भागी !
एक थलनिम्ति संसार बन्छन्
एक पलनिम्ति पृथिवी घुम्छिन्
एक क्षण लागि जीवन बन्छन्
अनन्तका पनि क्षणमा गुँड छन् !

एकै क्षणको आन र तान,
दिव्य दर्शन या सूनसान !
एक पलकमा नितको ज्यान !
एक झलकमा पर आश्मान !
एक झलकमा जगत् श्मशान !

मानवताको बिरुवामाथि
फुल्दछ यति तर्क भन्ने जानें !
दुई आँखाले पिए त्यो राति
त्यो अमृत जो सुरले जाने !

सुन्दरता ! के पायौ याद ?
चोरी हुन्छन् पथमा कत्रा ?
आफू सग्लै टिपियौ, अचेता !
धनी बनाउँछयौ कोष परत्र !

स्वरुपभन्दा छाया अमर छ !
छाया ठूलो ! छाया सुन्दर !
तिम्रो तत्क्षण थिति नै अमर छ !
अजर छ तिम्रो मोहनी–मन्दिर !

प्यार भनीकन कोही छुँदो हो,
अवहेलनको तिम्रो काया !
पूजा गर्दै कोही रुँदो हो –
सम्झन सक्छयौ ?–
सकुची, चित्रन तिम्रो छाया !

प्राप्त तिम्रा वैभव सीमित !
अप्राप्त तिम्रा धन छन् असीमित
आपूmभन्दा तिमी छौ ठूली !
अचेत छौ ए शक्ति अकेली !

कुनै कुनामा, भारतदेश,
शायद् वाष्पिल दर्पण सामु
दुखले टिप्छयौ फुल्दो केश !
बैँसको हरियो, मीठो, फुल्दो
उपवनमा भै शरदावेश !

कसरी बताऊँ तिमी छौ उस्तै ?
बयस अमरमा सुन्दर चूली ?
आँधी न छुन्छन्, समय न छुन्छ !
परिवर्तन छ पदको धूली !
एकान्त हराएँ मैले सुन्दरी !
बेहोश निमौले संगमा बोली !
समय अडाई, विजयकथाका
वार्ता खोली !

सींढी पसलका ओर्ल शके ए !
ती लोचनका झुम्का ओराल !
उन्नाईसौँ बत्तीस सन् छ !
बदल, सके लौ, तिमी यो काल !

स्पर्शहरुले खिइँदै शोभो
छाया–जगत्मा आश्रय लिन्छन् !
सचेत बन्दा आत्मा, आखिर,
त्यसमै सदन बनेको पाई—
निवसन्छन् !
आइरहिछौ ! मेरा हकले
सबका छिन्छन् !
विशाल विश्वको बाजार विषे, मेरा हकले,
माल किन्छन् !

संसारी क्वै स्तरमा भुल्दी
आफ्नो राज र सच्चा शासन !
ए अचेता ! पाउली याद !
मुग्ध दिल हो सुन्दर–आसन !

सम्बन्धहरुमा मसिना, मीठा
सञ्चित अश्रुत स्वर नै बोली !
कोही जनममा चित्रकलामा
चकित बनाई, झल्के भोली !
पूरा मिलनमा, लबढब हुँला
विश्वनाथका मुटु भै डोली !

Poem – Paani


पानीजस्तो के छ जगत्मा ?
पानी !
रानी, सब रसकी !


आम्लजन औ जलजनकी यी
कस्ती मधुर मिलन !
कस्ती तरल मिलन !
दुई प्रेमीले संसार बसाए
यस जलमा !
दुई बिलाई एक बनेथ्यो
तत्व यसैमा, कोमलमा !
प्यारका आँखा चार, बराबर,
जल बन्छन् ! जल बन्छन्,
दुईटा दिलका दूरालिङ्गन,
भावित सङ्गम,
बाफ उडीकन, बादल बन्छन् !
बादल बन्छन् !
दूरी मिटाउन घर्षन्छन् !
सम्झनाका बिजुली–लहरा
विलसन्छन् क्या
द्रवाभिपुख ती पानीमा !
हृदयले सारा रस नै निचोरी,
बाहिर झिक्दा,
आउँछन् पानी, नानीमा !


पानी–रानी आइरहिछन्
ज्येठको दिनमा गगनमा !
धुवा भुवामा, धुवा भुवामा,
शानी गतिमा, बगुवामा !
घुम्टो डाली,
पर्दा–नशीन झैं, पर्दा–नशीन झैं, वरुणकुमारी,
सुकुमारी !
रत्नाञ्चला छन् भारी, प्यारी !
वायुप्ङखी चढीरहिछन्, लगाम रोकी
पर्वतवारि !
पाश्र्वमा छ चाँदीपत्ती कुँदिएको क्या
जलझारी !
फटिक महलमा भेट्न उमाकन
बढ्छिन् उत्तरतिर ती, के ? भन !
कोमलताले खुशले चुमिई
वनस्थली क्या मस्की !
पानी आइन् !
कविकी कहानी
पानी, रानी सब रसकी !


उत्तर लम्क, उत्तर लम्क !
स्वागत गर्छौ नेपाली !
खुस्की मोती–पोल्टो, छम्क,
झर्र झमटमा गानाको धन,
पुलकित तृणमा अफाली !


पृथिवी परिथिन् विविध कटौरा
पक्रन, पहिलो वर्षणमा !
देश देशका सिमाना सब,
नीला, लगायौ तिमीले रानी !
प्रथम प्रलयको घर्षणमा !
पर्वतबाट खेल्यौ सुरेली
बेल्यौ बनायौ गर्त, दरी !
पृथ्वीको यो अनेहार बनायौ,
शिल्पिवरी !
समतल, अवतल, उत्तल सुन्दर !
आरोहण औ अवरोहणको
सङ्गीत सरि !
तिम्रा पद, पद, पन्ना उब्ज्यो,
हरियो लाग्यो सुन्दरता !
सभ्यताले मन्दिर पायो,
दुनियाँ बन्यो, भो जग–रमिता !
पहिलो भाषा, शब्दको खानी !
पहिलो चित्र, नभपट भित्र,
पहिलो शिल्प हिमानी !
दृगमा रसायौ पहिलो प्रीति
सलिल तरङ्ग हो पहिला गीति !
नाच्न सिकेथ्यो चराचरले,
तिम्रै तरल पयरले !
पानी ! पानी ! जादूगर्नी !
सभ्यता हो तिम्री छोरी !
तारीफ तिमी छौ दिशि दशकी !
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !


लहडी नानी !
ए पानी !
वसन–गुलाफी, श्रृङ्गार–सुनौली,
उषालु वेला,
दिव्य गगनमा, क्या स्वर्बाला !
अनुपम, नौली !
करबाल लिएकी बिजुली, चमचम,
वर्षा–समरको भूमि गगनमा,
हाँक्दा वीरा रुपौली !
आँधिकेशर आरुढा तिमी
कालो कराली,
सङ्क्रान्ति–कालकी गजौंली !
बष्यौंली !
पुस्करिणीमा शान्तरसकी
स्वर प्रतिविम्बी दर्पण निश्चल
साधु उरझै्र झल्कौली !
उत्तुङ्ग शिखरमा वसुन्धरा
तिमी तपस्विनी ज्ञानी !
सेती, फटिक हिमानी !
पार्वतीकी रोगन शानी !
उच्चताकी अमर कहानी !
ध्यानी !
शिवकी प्रिया छौ,
स्वर्णदीपिका भाव–शिखरले पूजा गर्दी
शङ्कपद अभिमानी !
ए पानी !


बुरबुर चीनी सल्लाघारीहरुमा राति
बुट्टा जाति, बहुभाँति !
सुस्त हवाको चलनीद्धारा
छिर्दै, मधुकर मैदा झाछर्यौ !
एकान्तलाई पाउडर लगाई,
सफेद सिंगाछर्यौ !
पर्वतबाट हाम्फालेर,
समतल सम्झी,
माइती जाने बाटो वेली
नूपुर पछाछर्यौ !
चल्दाचल्दै बाटामा तिमी
पलपल उपल, उपलमा कोमल
चाँदी–बेली सिंगाछर्यौ !
ढुङ्गालाई बोल दिईकन बुलबुल पाछर्यौ !
अथवा, चिसापानी गढीमा,
हिउँका पुतली फुरफुर झाछर्यौ !
अथवा सुन्दरताको स्वपना
रँगिलो धुनमा लच्का माछर्यौ !
अथवा तीतरपङ्खहरुले
व्योम बराबर सुन्दर सिंगाछर्यौ ।
अथवा, एकली वाष्पिल तरणी
नीलो दधिमा विहरी तछर्यौ ।
अथवा, बेरी इन्दुलाई सौन्दर्यक्षुधाले,
मस्त सुधाले,
भूवातनका स्नायु लस्दी,
विस्मृत गति भई क्षणभर बस्दी
अमृतगोला छाती हाली
चकोर भूचर डाहा भछर्यौ
अहिले तहतह चाँगीचाँगी
हाँगा हाँगी
पत्ती कुँदेकी, चमकी चाँदी,
दक्षिणबाट उताछर्यौ !
अस्पष्टताकी मोहनी बन्दा
हेमन्त–कुहर भै क्या झछर्यौ !
अथवा सानो पुत्लो मन्त्री ,
उपत्यका नै क्या भछर्यौ !
पहाड पाखा–पटुकी भे वा,
कोमल मलमल क्या बेछर्यौ !
साँझ, बिहान, स्वर्गका लहँगा,
रँगरँग ठाटी, क्या धछर्यौ !
गरीब शब्दावली नै अड्छे
आफै झस्की !
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !


फूल–जरामा पस्दी रानी !
पूmल–कोपीमा बस्दी रानी !
शीत–विन्दुमा खस्दी रानी !
किरणहरुमा लस्दी रानी !
हे महाध्र्या पानी !


ढुङ्गा अजङ्गका
बोकी, वम्का मारी दम्की
भूमा धम्की,
वृक्ष उखेडी ढयाम्मै पारी
खाडी डम्की,
उम्किन्छयौ जब उग्र गतिले,
मच्चाईकन भीषण उत्सव
बाढी गौरव !
रिसले उर्ली,
फींजका फौज बटारी, हुरली,
क्रान्तिनादिनी वेगकी काली
हेर्दछु केवल, रसनाबद्ध,
उग्र प्रशंसा पाली ।
जब हे ! पर्वत–छाm उछाली
हान्छयौ धराका ठोस किनारा,
सारा !
‘पोथी क्रोध’ म भन्छु तिमीकन
भीमा भामिनी !
ध्वंसकी दामिनी
‘माता’ भन्दछु ‘सब रसकी ! ’
पानी ! रानी सब रसकी !


सागरकी काली !
हिउँकी गौरी !
वज्र–करा !
पर्वत–शिल्पिनि !
ध्वंस–प्रजल्पिनि !
वर्षा–विलपिनि !
छाँगा–छहरा !
देवि ! तिम्रो रुप छ अनगिन
नाम अनन्त छ पारावार !
माई ! धाई !
वर्णन गर्न तिम्रो आज,
सक्तिन हाई !
केवल गर्छु नमस्कार !


तर सबभन्दा तिम्रो महिमा
मानवीय दुई नानीमा !
प्यार क्षारकी सिन्धु हे विन्दु !
विश्वगोला बनेर अटाउँछयौ,
दृगनानीमा ! दृगनानीमा
सृष्टिको मुटुको रस भै आउँछयौ
झछर्यौ कविको कहानीमा
तब सरस्वती वीणा रोकी,
क्षणभर हेर्छिन् जिल्ल परीकन,
पानीमा !
विन्दु झिल्किंदो नानीमा !

Poem – Jhanjha Prati


आ ! फिंजारी घनका भाँक्रा, सगर–सागर गाँसी !
उग्ररुपिणी ! प्रलयसदनि ! वर्षकी वेदनाराशि !
नाश् रे शेष शिशिर, भंडारी ! शोध् रे पृथिवी–वासी !


सत्ययुगको निद्रा तेरो ! कलिको प्रबोधन–वेला !
विकल–प्राण–पवन–संगमा अश्रुकी जलधिवेला !
अतीत–कारागत सब आत्माहरुको क्रन्दन फोई
नाच् रे खण्डित कृष्ण घनमा, इन्साफ मागेर रोई !
चम्की ! झञ्झकी हे आत्मा !
सुत्छ मनुज अँधेरी रातमा !
भाइ भुल्छ भाइ आज ! विषम थितिमा यो समाज !
चल्दो छ धूलिई, मासी !


लङ्का सल्क्यो ! सुन्दर विलपी ! रुद्रभृकुटीज्वाला !
क्रान्ति उठ्छ मनुज थिचिंदा, हुरी ! मै विषम–चाला !
जर्जर आडम्बरका विटप खडा छन् अझ रे काला !
छन् अँधेरी–सेज–स्वपित मरेका हृदयवाला !
जाग् रे ! वायुबघिनी ! गर्जी रे ! झञ्झाकी काली !
मानव अझ छ मानवान्ध ! आँखामा डालेर जाली !
सडल जगत् जा बढारी ! जर्जर दलका दल !
मानव दानवहरुका कृतिले, अझ छ बगाउँदो भल !
धूलीदलका छाया–लहर बढार्दै भूतका राशि !
आ ! फिंजारी घनका झाँक्रा सगर सागर गाँसी


कुपित सृष्टिकार सपना ! दिव्य दण्डकी हावा !
हे बेरोक ! पगली शक्ति ! असत्यको बोल् तँ धावा !
क्या विलासी सुरको भवन प्रलय छायाले छायो !

नाची नागिनी बिजुली ! स्वर्गले डसिई, क्रन्दन गायो !
नर–भविष्य बदलीमा छ ! निफन्दे सृष्टिको डाली !
ढुक्क रहेको शोषण–मुटुमा मृत्युको असिना फाली !
ध्वंसिनी ! हे ! तेरा क्रूर गतिमा करुणा हुन्छन् !
सक्रिय शान्त मुटुमा तेरो सुन्दरले स्वपना बुन्छन् !
भोलि हुन्छ धौत गगन, पवन निर्मल सन्त !
ऋतु वसन्त हाँस्छ मधुर, शिशिर हुन्छ अन्त !

Poem – Badal Ko Swagat

ओहो पङ्खे मोती–पोल्टी सागर–चेली चाँदी छाल !
वाष्पिल सिंहमा वायुपङ्खी, हिउँचुलीमा छहरी याल !
भूतल शीतल पारी सियाली, कलिली निलाई पर्वत ढाल,
बुरबुर डाली कुइरो चीनी, सल्ला सियामा मर्मर जाल,
कृषियुगका सब आदिम गाना गर्छन् छहरी मोती कमाल !
बिजुली नागिनी सँगमा चम्के,
स्वर नगवेली लहरा फन्के,
वाफन फोही गिरी गडराए,
कुइरी झरीले छोयो ढाल !
धर्ती दुहौँला, छाती फुहौँला धानी असारे कुर्ली टाल !
बर्खा, बिजुली, धूप सहौँला,
धूमका मुनितिर रोप्न नुहौँला, पोषन भूका भोका बाल !
जबतक हाम्रो हात कोदाली, टर्ला जगमा रे अनिकाल !
स्वर्ग नहोला नित मुख नीलो,
जगत्को छाना बुट्टिन ढिलो ! चल्ला सागर छाल !
रत्नाकरको याद नटुट्ला जनवन माथि तप्त विशाल !
सङ्घर्ष ध्वनि छ आज गगनमा,
प्रगति छ मिठो आज पवनमा,
सातरङ्गी विजयपताका चम्किरहेको हेर ! कमाल !

Poem – Embrace

You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight.

Poem – Story of Or

To pose nakedness is
To refute it. A pose
Is a clothes. Like
Stanzaic arrangements of

The word which should
Ideally, be in pain against
Its w and its d. No slack
Is why such heaves of or

To denude itself could
Make us exude gold, yet when
Was that ever opposite enough

What scream or epigram
This sperm has come
To measure our mouths for.

Poem – To Those Born After


To the cities I came in a time of disorder
That was ruled by hunger.
I sheltered with the people in a time of uproar
And then I joined in their rebellion.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

I ate my dinners between the battles,
I lay down to sleep among the murderers,
I didn’t care for much for love
And for nature’s beauties I had little patience.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

The city streets all led to foul swamps in my time,
My speech betrayed me to the butchers.
I could do only little
But without me those that ruled could not sleep so easily:
That’s what I hoped.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.

Our forces were slight and small,
Our goal lay in the far distance
Clearly in our sights,
If for me myself beyond my reaching.
That’s how I passed my time that was given to me on this Earth.


You who will come to the surface
From the flood that’s overwhelmed us and drowned us all
Must think, when you speak of our weakness in times of darkness
That you’ve not had to face:

Days when we were used to changing countries
More often than shoes,
Through the war of the classes despairing
That there was only injustice and no outrage.

Even so we realised
Hatred of oppression still distorts the features,
Anger at injustice still makes voices raised and ugly.
Oh we, who wished to lay for the foundations for peace and friendliness,
Could never be friendly ourselves.

And in the future when no longer
Do human beings still treat themselves as animals,
Look back on us with indulgence.

Poem – On Gazing into a Mirror

Follow Tao, and nothing is old or new.
Lose it, and the ruins of age return.

Someone smiling back in the mirror,
hair white as the frost-stained glass,

you admit lament is empty, ask how
reflections get so worn and withered.

How speak of peach and plum: timeless
South Mountain blazes in the end?

Poem – The Old Dust

The living is a passing traveler;
The dead, a man come home.
One brief journey betwixt heaven and earth,
Then, alas! we are the same old dust of ten thousand ages.
The rabbit in the moon pounds the medicine in vain;
Fu-sang, the tree of immortality, has crumbled to kindling wood.
Man dies, his white bones are dumb without a word
When the green pines feel the coming of the spring.
Looking back, I sigh; looking before, I sigh again.
What is there to prize in the life’s vaporous glory?

Poem – Bringing in the Wine

See how the Yellow River’s water move out of heaven.
Entering the ocean,never to return.
See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow.
… Oh, let a man of spirit venture where he pleases
And never tip his golden cup empty toward the moon!
Since heaven gave the talent, let it be employed!
Spin a thousand of pieces of silver, all of them come back!
Cook a sheep, kill a cow, whet the appetite,
And make me, of three hundred bowls, one long drink!
… To the old master, Tsen,
And the young scholar, Tan-chiu,
Bring in the wine!
Let your cups never rest!
Let me sing you a song!
Let your ears attend!
What are bell and drum, rare dishes and treasure?
Let me br forever drunk and never come to reason!
Sober men of olden days and sages are forgotten,
And only the great drinkers are famous for all time.
… Prince Chen paid at a banquet in the Palace of Perfection
Ten thousand coins for a cask of wine, with many a laugh and quip.
Why say, my host, that your money is gone?
Go and buy wine and we’ll drink it together!
My flower-dappled horse,
My furs worth a thousand,
Hand them to the boy to exchange for good wine,
And we’ll drown away the woes of ten thousand generation!

Poem – Clearing At Dawn

The fields are chill, the sparse rain has stopped;
The colours of Spring teem on every side.
With leaping fish the blue pond is full;
With singing thrushes the green boughs droop.
The flowers of the field have dabbled their powdered cheeks;
The mountain grasses are bent level at the waist.
By the bamboo stream the last fragment of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatters away.

Poem – Reaching The Hermitage

At evening I make it down the mountain.

Keeping company with the moon.

Looking back I see the paths I’ve taken

Blue now, blue beneath the skyline.

You greet me, show the hidden track,

Where children pull back hawthorn curtains,

Reveal green bamboo, the secret path,

Vines that touch the traveller’s clothes.

I love finding space to rest,

Clear wine to enjoy with you.

Wind in the pines till voices stop,

Songs till the Ocean of Heaven pales.

I get drunk and you are happy,

Both of us pleased to forget the world. 

Poem – A Woman of Quality

Matchless in breeding and beauty,
a fine lady has taken refuge
in this forsaken valley.
She is of good family, she says,
but her fortune has withered away;
now she lives as the grass and trees.
When the heartlands fell to the rebels
her brothers were put to death;
birth and position availed nothing–
she was not even allowed
to bring home their bones for burial.
The world turns quickly against
those who have had their day–
fortune is a lamp-flame
flickering in the wind.
Her husband is a fickle fellow
who has a lovely new woman.
Even the vetch-tree is more constant,
folding its leaves every dusk,
and mandarin ducks
always sleep with their mates.
But he has eyes only
for his new woman’s smile,
and his ears are deaf
to his first wife’s weeping.
High in the mountains
spring water is clear as truth,
but when it reaches the lowlands
it is muddied with rumor.
Her serving-maid returns
from selling her pearls;
she drags a creeper over
to cover holes in the roof.
The flowers the lady picks
are not for her hair,
and the handfuls of cypress
are a bitter stay against hunger.
Her pretty blue sleeves
are too thin for the cold;
as evening falls
she leans on the tall bamboo.

Birth-Day Wishes – Frank Gutsche

Windy beach, summer jests, 

little girl dipping her toes in cold sand, 

in shivered moments of water she froze.

Apple trees, bright leafy days, 

gentle breeze, cat chased bird, 

magic backyard witches’ shed, 

mother’s angry words.
Ancient pirate’s treasure, 

locked coins in a crumbling chest.

A little girl’s Barbie doll’s hair cut, 

she severed its blonde-maned crest.

the wheel of life spins, 

Mother’s lullabies, 

the sound of cherished comfort yearns, 

years carve their spirals. 
I wish you happiness, 

and its endless returns 

Poem – Day’s End

Oxen and sheep were brought back down

Long ago and bramble gates closed over

Mountains and rivers far from my old garden

A windswept moon rises into clear night.
Springs trickle down dark cliffs and autumn

Dew fills ridgeline grasses my hair seems

Winter in lamplight. The flame flickers

Good fortune over and over and for what

Poem – Flashbacks 

All it takes is Laura Riding’s riding-
crop across my butt, and I’m off:

Git-up horsie she cries astride me as
I crash sweetly onto the carpet.

Boredom what an esthetic,

cleansing the days-

I laud the vintage of my toothpick.
Small-husband to the floor,

my foot stoops in dance,

in courtship intervals.
Putting their clothes on afterwards

the lovers are surprised

at how empty

the buttonholes seem.