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Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

of

Kathmandu, Nepal

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My existence

by

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar


In rainy days
Clouds? so much tired of
Roaming hither and thither
In the limit of the sky
Rest a while
In the mountain bed
Turn itself into big drops of water
Display the colors of spectrum
Far behind the Blues
Creating in my mind
Temptation of Sweet Dreams
Inside the beauty of the Rainbow
As if the bridge between me and my life
Beneath the mountain side
Flows a stream so quiet
Whispering in my ear
Truth of my existence


My existence

by

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar


In rainy days
Clouds? so much tired of
Roaming hither and thither
In the limit of the sky
Rest a while
In the mountain bed
Turn itself into big drops of water
Display the colors of spectrum
Far behind the Blues
Creating in my mind
Temptation of Sweet Dreams
Inside the beauty of the Rainbow
As if the bridge between me and my life
Beneath the mountain side
Flows a stream so quiet
Whispering in my ear
Truth of my existence


The tree

by

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

Inside you?ve an earth of difference
With the ocean of clear water
The sky of the blues and
The Nature of greenery
That has no units to measure
In this earth
Choosing the soft soil from the ground
Crescent spade of the sky dug
Deep inside the earth
Sowed a flower seed of its own kind
That adores
Fresh water from the ocean
Sunlight from the blues of the sky
Greens of the nature
For a while
Storm comes and then stillness loves the sky
Tide roars and oceans stand still after
Nature turns itself into spring
The flower seeds that sowed
Burst into seedling
That I took from seedbed
To plant again on the Earth inside you
That blossoms the flowers with fragrance


My shadow

by

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

My shadow lives my life
Strong-minded with
Quite majestic in character and
Sophisticated in fashion
More spacious in capacity and
Efficient in activity
Rather than me and my life
Outgrow of its strength
Isolated me from my life
And seduced my properties
To maintain its own identity
As if old enough in humanity
To throw me away in waste container

My shadow that I throw in the earth
Stretched my body in full
Shearing my clothes from my body
With only the skinny left over
No one may recognize me
As my own identity
I tried to run away from my shadow
That chases me like a wild goose
I scanned the horizon of my life
Far beyond my limitation
And searched my identity
Inside me and my life
Not knowing my relation
If existed with my shadow
To name after


Let my bygones be bygones

by

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

Striking a matchstick gently
On the surface of the matchbook
For warming up the winter
Underneath the wetted wooden log
As leftover after burnt
Wetted sulfur
Damp surface of the matchbook
Not yielded even the short lighting
As in the stormy sky
By striking winds each other
Only the empty stick left
After a smell of burnt sulfur
I stifle a yawn
By opening my pages
Of my bygone days
If something leftover
For pure satisfaction in my mind