Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

Rookie (February 28,1948 / Kathmandu)

My Death - Poem by Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

As if the milk turns
My soul detaches from my body
My body and my soul float severally
In the surface of my life
My soul that grasp my breath
Vanishes into dusk
My identity as human in my life
Tears apart from my body
And turns into stone without sense and gasp
Pretty hectic I'm in my routine
No time to be bothered myself
During my whole life
Unconsciously
The sole joints that sojourn
My body with life defuses
The solder between them and
Splits into my body and soul
My soul fades away
As the mercury exposes to the air
Only my body as left over
Impassive and immovable
Lying in the earth
As anonymous and unclaimed
Then the Death commiserates
And prompts to confer his own name
For my body
That has no sense and gasp


Comments about My Death by Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

  • (6/1/2005 11:45:00 PM)


    Again, here are some mistakes in using English that makes sense. 'My body and my soul floats...' If you use body and soul, then the verb would be float...without the 's.' I have no idea what the word Severally is doing in that line. Nor do I understand why it is a capital letter. In the midst of all this heavy-duty dying, you say, 'Pretty hectic, I'm in my routine, no time to be bothered with myself.' Where on earth did that line come from? This is such a serious poem that those two lines jarred me. Remember that this is just my opinion, but I think if you re-read this with a critical eye and work on it a bit, you will see what I mean.

    Raynette
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Read poems about / on: identity, death, life, time



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Poem Edited: Friday, June 3, 2005


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