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Best Nepalese Poems

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The Best Nepalese Poems

Details | Nepalese Poem | |

Nepal FrOm My heart

                                       NEPAL FrOm My heart

FRom the peace and progress,
Of life and humanity
to say we our pride and honour,
to respect the country and
make the country reputed and feel
like that we are one , the Nepalese 
to every obstacles and challanges to face,
and We Brave Gorkhalis never bend our head 
to any unless they dont go,
We, Nepali To feel every second on the earth to become a
shining country, the Only one in the hearts of the every Nepalese,
                                                                    By Diwash Sharma
                                                                          Roshani E.B.H.S.S
                                                                         Badkhola, Syangja

More great poems below...

Details | Nepalese Poem | |

IF I was A Beggar

In streets, roads, louding with a loud voice for living
waiting for someone to give money by throwing
is this the life the god gave
if they became beggar why couldn't I

Nothing matters how wealthy or poor i am
just fascinated with the beggar's slam
so much sad and stressful moment i dont' like to see
their children can't go to school because they have no money to give fee

AMerica, Britain, New York, Nepal Spain, GErmany, India, Etc
From which part are you it doesn't matters
it matters how much respect do you give to beggar
don't laugh at them 
Don't know if the day come to us to be a beggar..... DIwASH SHARMA NEPALESE

Details | Nepalese Poem | |

I Wish I Had Time For Poetry and Plays

I wish I had time for poetry and plays
My mind allowed 
As I watched the same aged, bespectacled monk
For about the fifteenth time this month
 Patter his bare feet
Upon the pavement
Of the dust filled lane.

 Leaving me again
 To contemplate
  Broken shards of yesterday
In a faraway land that reminds me of
 Secret Pacts made
To myself
 In the time when
Getting too busy was never an option.

These the promises
 Made in Nepalese skies
 below the Lost Horizon
Of the Dalai Lama
I could not see
 The coming years that would
 Tumble earthwards
Like over ripe plums.
Nor the red Lama
Perched on an Annapurnan cliff
Melodic verses
Centuries old 
 Tying a 
Red ribbon round my
 Wrist and soul.

There they lay.
 Meditations that never were,
Given by Siddhartha, Confucius and, even a carpenter, from
The Middle East.
They have even appeared 
In soiled books, 
Ashrams on the Ganges,
Scribbled on bar room napkins and
 Confessed to
 Unsuspecting passersby.

Where are these ruminations now
As the pages stick 
Like books rarely read
In a villages unseen
By streams only heard 
When all I want 
Is a little respite
From the traffic
That hums
 Next to the lane
That is just beside my patio
Where that same monk will 
Rise up early,
Don a saffron-gold robe and greet dawn 
Both eyes smiling? 

Jeff Troyer
2006 (Chiang Mai, Thailand)

Details | Nepalese Poem | |

The Bus Ride (Himalayan Mountains Nepal 2003)

As the bus rode 
through the molting pine forest and
the crumbling ochre rock formations;
bits of colorful cellophane litter brought the only relief to the eye.

Inside, behind a profusion of people,
boxes, backpacks and assorted baggage
babies slept.

The bus creaked, shook and groaned
its way down the serpentine,
asphalt, mountain track.
Passengers chattered away in Indian, Nepalese, Danish and English,
abrasively punctuating 
a Universal discourse;

As the vehicle draped from roof to bumper,
careened from rock walls 
to sheer ledges, beeping.
Stray pets and wayward cyclist dodged its downward flight
Into the valleys maw. 

Details | Nepalese Poem | |


Yellow leaves fall
Harsh humid heat;
Earth gathers debris


Time runs away
Space now bereft;
A change of heart


Empty space
Nothing much here;
Going away present


Odd couple here
East meets West;
Lovely colours


Old lady sells
Daily newspapers;
Sidewalk news sermon


Humid hot day
Fiery sun bombards;
SPF29 still tans


Morning crystal ball
Mirror exposure;
Wrinkles and grey hair


Earthquake tremors
Nepalese tragedy;
So many deaths


Sense deep loss
Houses collapsing;
Hard times overwhelm


Tears and pain
Sorry affairs;
Disaster recovery


Poise styles
Heavy hearts mourn;
News highlights tell


Crimson colours
A red sun  burns;
Rain dilutes blaze


Young lady walks
Brown poodle;
Shoes on canine feet


Just fancy that:
Bad reviews bitch;
Footsteps retreat


Breezy dandelions
Cottony seeds fly;
Swirling sensations


Leon Enriquez
17 May 2015

More great poems below...

Details | Nepalese Poem | |



Crying , crying , endless sobbing
A miracle of life...witnessed
Hushed amongst the rubble
Dust devils dance and taunt
A grey dusty shape ...stares
Then cries the beautiful sound
 pulled from Nepalese rubble
A baby greets her life... anew
This miracle welcomed,  amidst
Crying,crying, endless sobbing

Details | Nepalese Poem | |

Softly Off-Colored Poem - 2

Orange-Aid for Nepalese earthquake survivors, America rocks
	Homeless people around the globe.

Orange raft and paddles for victims of a forced water landing pop open, 
		Like bags of orange spice seasoned potato chips.
	Half-naked islanders wearing orange lays
		Weave their canoes through schools of rainbow colored fish
			To welcome tourists to island hot tubs
				Chockfull of tubers, carrots and onions
					Sure to soften skin.
			No American in island colored shirt will be rejected.
Orange ancient customs so interesting? 

Orange papaya orchards mark more populated, less primitive isles, 
	Close to where a stand of beach grown resorts flourishes..
	A buoyant, orange bikinied girl floats free of care, 
		Unencumbered by life jacket or much else
		In perfectly clear inescapable blue waters
			(Even in this orange colored poem).
	Wearing blue cap with orange flowers, hair color indeterminate, 
		She is a visual feast to some, to others simply delicious, 
	What some islanders would call snack food, ready to eat, 
		Almost no peeling necessary.

 Orange colored coral glows from not so far beneath her, 
	Yellow and red (orange in the making) firmly fixed, 
		Framed by the bleached canvas of ancestral remains.
	Camouflaged fish blend perfectly with the
		Anti-green coral leaves that mock photosynthesis, 
		Leaves that sway in their oceanic groves like wind-tickled wheat
			Passively reflecting the light of a sinking sun.

Orange you glad that you are here with me? 
	Fruit scented suntan oil blocks harmful rays
		As we sip our still bubbling mimosas
			And taste each other’s intoxicating kisses
	Reflected orange shines between our toes too as feet dangle
		From our floating sanctuary in warmly tropical water, 
			Nibbled on by tiny fish cannibalizing
				Our genetic code for some future lifetime.
	Now we are blinded by the incredible orange flash
			Of a light drizzle’s rainbow….
		We orange our way as softly as marmalade jellyfish
			Toward an approaching quilt
				Of dusk-colored fog.

Orange as the twilight meteor that sparks star ash one last time, 
	A colored contrail against  the nearly empty sky above
		As night too falls, 
	Leaving only a pumpkin faced harvest moon
		With a lewd, lascivious grin and tea stained teeth
			To watch phosphorescent tides come and go
				In our passionate cove.

Brian Johnston
May 9, 2015