nimal dunuhinga Poems

My yoke fellow who talks about Fall and yellowing of the foliage.
He always carries his untidy diary and there are few blank pages left behind.
He wants me to scribble something on those torn pages.
I write; Hey! Chum you may call it Fall but I pronounce as Autumn.
...

The notorious scribbler who wants to change the sky
And replace a new Sun and Moon,
Stuck in a place where he provides fuel to the mischievous vehicles
That run on the slippery road.
...

The biopsy it doesn't say that he is a poor creature.
Perhaps the pot bellied immigration officer may inquires of his legal papers.
What else he could produce unless a tattered certificate of birth
That belongs to his poor loving parents?
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Boss! Why did you open the cage door?
I never betray you and I promise to stay further
Until you get your wings.
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Mountains stand straight against the barren sky
And it looks like a pastel drawing.
Where is that bird's song going?
Butterflies could see only in the season
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He likes her burgundy lips
And he begs for a kiss.
The poor chap really misses
And he regrets of the wild goose chase.
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He washes the dishes very fast and he sees his face very bright.
He doesn't count as an employee and always he thinks as the owner of the Restaurant.
This is the way to live happily.
Though you are not a Saint but act as a Saint.
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Those who go in the heavy rains
some do have umbrellas
but some they don't have
and both of them got soaked.
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Her thin loosely gown looks very beautiful.
Like her heart.
Her silvery voice sounds like a wind bell.
My lean country lassie you are a Victorian queen for me.
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Who suture her heart?
It was torn apart.
When I met her
She was smell of liquor.
...