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| Sushant Thapa |
Worthy Living
I wake up
To the detached world,
But I have a humane heart.
The light of the morning
Is my tussle with the
Dwindling stride of the world.
I was safely tucked like a child
In the womb of the unforgiving nights,
I keep recollection
As a memory fluid
And it makes me grow.
The melancholy is again beautiful,
The weight of the world
Flows through my pen,
Writer’s Block is a myth.
I am sitting on my sofa,
My hands dance
A salsa, and my mind
Does the greeting dance
To ink the happenings.
Happenings are close
To truth,
Someone rightly said,
“An unexamined life is not worth living.”
Picking up Life
Life isn’t a composure
Until you play your instrument.
Life is a void,
Until you seek the tunnel.
Life is a mistake,
Until you lose.
Winning reasons
Keep me warm in winter.
The disparity is my enemy,
Let the world weave the same basket.
Come pick up the cherries
From my lawn.
The Kind-hearted Giant
I read in my childhood
The story about big kind giant.
Evil is a weak gesture,
Hearts can change for good.
I might be a literary giant
But the address of evil in the world
Finds my home.
In weak imagination
I forget the reason to be.
Let us multiply voices of harmony,
This festive season
I found a friend
Who shares my solitude,
In greeting gestures.
Philosophical Set Up
Actions rule,
Lies carry death Coffin
Nature cares,
Home is the world
Read like everyday newspapers.
Alone is the setting sun
To rise like the reason to live.
Mark of Destitute
Your job is to beautify the world,
Your position is human.
You create an artificiality,
And preach of humanity.
There is disarray,
There is the descending sky,
There is the flood of materiality.
I choose to envelop
The philosophy of minimalism,
I don’t care if you call it
A mark of destitute.
© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
