Nishchal PS

Nishchal PS Poems

The mountain breathes,
a silvered crest, a whisper,
a secret folded in clouds.
It leans over the village,
...

2.

Life-
happy?
I think so.
But who defines joy?
...

If you wait until the stars align,
You'll miss the moment, fall behind.

The clock won't stop, nor hold your hand,
...

Your smile
breaks the order of morning activities
a glitch in the algorithm of light.
...

Nishchal PS Biography

Nishchal PS (Nischal PS) is a Nepalese creative professional active in writing and digital services. Professional Highlights: Lyricist: Known for Nepali music, especially Ghazals; collaborated on "Timro Manko Bagainchama' with music by Tara Prakash Limbu, Tutnu Nata by Mahesh Khadka & Swaroop Raj Acharya, Kahan Kahan Khojen Timilai by Anju Panta, etc. Blogger & Writer: Covers society, politics, career guidance, and social issues on his personal blog. Topics include Nepali political dynamics, democratic stability, urban management, teamwork, skill development, reservation policies, and Gen Z movements. Freelance & Digital Services: Offers SEO content writing, LinkedIn and CV services, business planning, and restaurant consultancy. Online Presence: Active on personal website (pslimboo.com.np) and social media (@IamNishchal on Twitter. Professional activity spans from 2005 to the present, reflecting a long-standing presence in Nepal's creative and digital landscape.)

The Best Poem Of Nishchal PS

Fishtail

The mountain breathes,
a silvered crest, a whisper,
a secret folded in clouds.
It leans over the village,
where concrete clings to the earth,
stacked atop dreams that flicker
like candles in the wind.
Fishtail watches.
Its gaze—an old prophet's stare,
seeing every thread woven
into homes below,
hearing the quiet sighs
of children, of prayers stitched
into walls no one dares speak aloud.
The peak speaks without voice,
but the earth trembles beneath it.
A slow pulse beats from sky to stone.
They say it guards us,
but does it judge as well?
Does it carry the weight of whispers,
secrets piled higher than the tallest roofs,
softly crumbling away?
Homes stretch like arms,
reaching for its ear,
begging for wisdom,
or maybe, forgiveness.
Fishtail listens.
But silence is all it offers.
Perhaps it is enough to be seen,
by something so ancient,
so vast it holds us steady,
as we climb toward its quiet,
hoping one day it will understand.

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