Your Silence Poem by Bijay Poudel

YOUR SILENCE...
Your silence, my love,
Has now ensued a battle,
To make itself heard,
To make itself known,
And I might be one lame king,
Beaten, stabbed and overthrown.

And it is not that silence,
Bestowed upon a battlefield after a massacre,
Bestowed upon the shrines, those harbour gods,
Nah! ! Not of such kind,
Ah this silence, where would you find! !
Battling now to make itself heard.

Like tender petals of roses, drenched in drops of dew,
Like a toddler’s smile, on finding something new.
Like the red blush, etched across your lassie’s face,
When amongst the regular crowd, she finds you.

Your silence, my love,
Does it bear a slightest trace of your malice?
Upon my idiocies, my ridiculous stupidities,
Upon the ruthless attributes of my vice.
And shall it suffice?
I ask you now sweetheart,
Shall it suffice?
For my idiocies,
I ask you again and again.
For you is my muse so terribly missed,
Am I that king, lame and slained?
Behind the hallows, you have punished.

Your silence, my love,
Sheds both shine and drizzle,
Like a rude poetry,
Like an unsolved riddle,
Like mysteries of souls that has baffled saints,
Like a lump of incomprehensive colours,
A painter, so joyously, paints.

Your silence, my love,
Can’t it be undone?
For a moment, a minute or two,
Can’t it be broken?
Can’t you let the stream flow?
Of words, hitherto unspoken.

Your silence, my love,
Has depressed me, has elated me.
Has made me so funnily sober,
And I am tired now sweetheart,
Making speculations over,
What it gives and what it takes?
Fear now clenches me,
Should my heart break into pieces?
Even before your silence breaks.

... Should my heart break into pieces?
Even before your silence breaks

Bijay Poudel
10/02/2014