Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

My shadow lives my life
With strong-mindedness;
Majestic in character and
Sophisticated in fashion
...

I
Far beyond the horizon
When the rooster sang
A song of dawn coming
...

Striking a matchstick gently
On the surface of the matchbook
For warming up the winter
Underneath the wetted wooden log
...

When I grasp hold of the deep sleep
And sink soundly in the ocean of peace
With no sense on my body and
Sensibility in my mind,
...

Inside me blossoms a dense forest
From the roots of my body hairs,
Faster than the eternal verities of my life
Running after time,
...

Inside you’ve an earth of difference
With the ocean of clear water
The sky of the blues and
The Nature of greenery
...

Gazing intently at
Clouds in the sky of gloom
Glow with iron-hot red
As if my wounds ripe enough
...

As the daylight sinks into the darkness of night
My Shadow, who’s after me since my birth and
Keep its eye on me from morn till eve,
Fades away abruptly out of my sight and
...

Inside me and myself
Sprouts up a series of the shops
The super markets
The super stores
...

On the stone canvas
Beside the stream flowing onwards
Brushes dipping in
Each colors of the spectrum
...

Fully occupied I’m in my day-to-day affairs,
While in my office room
Like the magnet attracts iron dusts
The lower soles of my shoes
...

In the death chamber confines
The soul of my mind
Handcuffed by tragedy
Sentenced to death penalty
...

Callused skin on my body
Ruptured by the cruel nature
Like a deserted and dry riverbed
In a summer
...

The meek and mild man
Turned his heart into stone
Closed his eyes tight
And wove by his fingers
...

To obliterate the fires of terror
rekindled after the war in the deserts,
The buildings and the palaces
destroyed by the nozzles of the guns
...

War Tanks rolled over to
Jenin and its Refugee Camp
As battlefields in a minute
Clouds of black smokes belched
...

After 2549 years

Siddhartha Gautam Buddha
With the light of Nirvana
...

The ebony night crawls
With its webbed feet
On my distressed mind,
To peel off my fusty clothes,
...

Poetry
I chewed
Like the tasty beaten rice*
And swallowed the whole,
...

Every morning in my bathroom,
I submerge myself in meditation,
cleanse my bowels
and attain fresh and anew.
...