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Best Poems Written by Pushpa Tuladhar

Below are the all-time best Pushpa Tuladhar poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

An Old Railway Line

In the death chamber confines
The soul of my mind
Handcuffed by tragedy
Sentenced to death penalty
Just close to a blink of my eyes
With an illusionary greetings
Of long lives
Standing before me
Face to face – My death.

Startled I’m like the whirl
Of the breeze on cobwebs
Hanging in every corner
Of this death chamber
Not in use for centuries
Neither I can blink my eyes
Nor breathe my breath

Asleep is the fireplace
With only ashes
Decomposed in wetted firewood
Neither the wisp of fire
Nor the glow of flame.

Rusty hinges on the door
Perforated by rust
Through which holes
Smirk the gloomy bored moon
Seeking shelter for a night
A moment of unpleasant and discontent
Moans like a wild beast

Severe wounds
In inner of the minds
Moans like a cry of spasm
By unwilling sexual desire
Seduced by the enemy
In the defeated war
Echoed from the walls around
Fearing to have an ear
Will shrunk
In the emptiness of the room

At any time the electric shock
May turn the body to ashes
Only a fistful of my breath
Remaining in my body
Will hurried to rebel by
Shattering every words of my poem

Like the old railway lines
Discarded after the war
Hides its originality
In the rust and grassy grooves
Rebels of another kinds
Like the silent crater of sleeping volcano
Erupts and scatters the lava on the earth
Every word of my inner minds
That’s collected in the coarse paper
Only sensed by my wounded heart
Indeed it’s my poem.

September 11, 2003

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

Satin

Caught alone in the clear vacuum
of the darkness pricked
by the thorn of moonless night,
I submersed into the flashes
of light that transcends from
the stars falling beyond the sky.

My journey conceals new dimension.
I stalked away
aching to explore and understand
my soul I discerned
in deep breathes of the larva
of the dainty cocoon of the light.

From cocoon I spun silk yarns,
woven the clothe and
tailored the satiny fashion
in harmony to my conceit
of appalling humanity I adored.
(wove the shawl to new fashion,
wrap my conceit
of appalling humanity I adored)

Utterly oblivious of the larva
like a split hair’s breadth,
it comes off the cocoon, lifeless.

Alas!
The true soul of my own existence
fades
in the messy emptiness
of shimmering iridescent glass.

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

A Decrepit Map

Callused skin on my body
Ruptured by the cruel nature
Like a deserted and dry riverbed 
In a summer
Is the native soil, my Rolpa and Rukum
My mutilated soil 
Maimed by landmines 
This callus on my soil
Cannot be cut away by surgery
And then be tossed away,  
Like lifeless hairs 
Stuck on the porcelain sinkhole rim.

Ghostly lizard crawls 
On the dusty mirror 
Hanging in the dirty wall 
Of a dilapidated room
Where only emptiness 
Catapults the carnal beauty
Of the mute image 
Hidden under the layers of dust
Reveal my wounded Rolpa and Rukum
Like a decrepit map
Ripped by too many folds 
Scratched and perforated by the worms.

The awful pain has butterflies 
In my eyes
Of sullen 
And morose sky.

April 30, 2004

(Rolpa and Rukum, the two remote districts
in Far Western Nepal, affected by the 
Maoist’s People War)

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

Quintessence of Quiescent

Up the polished ceiling above my bed
In my bedroom resting for a while,
A camouflaged lizard crawls his webbed feet
With dead silence in his spider tongue
Hunting a fly nearby in languorous mood
So unconscious of to-be catastrophe
Bony spine of mine chills enough
To freeze my whole body like an ice
For the certainty of yet another calamities
Befalling on my quiet turbid heart
At any moments of my present life.

My desire to rest for a while with
My frightened and horror-stricken mind
Strives to take up its clothes of fright and horror
As if torched with mother of bomb
Runs naked towards the camera lens
With my screams frozen in frame
That unknowingly and unconsciously adheres
To the severe fading wall of my bedroom.

That portrait of mine destined to hide its reality
Sinks in time warped depth of ocean
Damped with futuristic dirt and dust
Wailing a digger to reveal the quintessence of
An embryonic present matured to rare earth
Out of an ovary of pregnant futurity.

June 28, 2003

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

My Shadow

My shadow lives my life
With strong-mindedness;
Majestic in character and
Sophisticated in fashion
More spacious in capacity and
Efficient in activity
Than me and my own life
Growing out of my strength
It isolates me from my life
And seduces my properties
To maintain its own identity
As if old enough in humanity
To throw me away in waste container
My shadow, that I throw in the earth
Stretches my body in full
Shearing the clothes from my body
With only the skinny left over
No one can recognize me
As my own identity
I try to run away from my shadow
That chases me like a wild goose
I scan the horizon of my life
Far beyond my limitations
And search my identity
Inside me and my life
Not knowing any relation
If it exists, with my shadow
To name

Details | Pushpa Tuladhar Poem

Caught In the Lens

The ebony night crawls 
With its webbed feet
On my distressed mind,
To peel off my fusty clothes,
From my fatigued body, 
Stinking me like the putrescence 
Of my time, and of my life,  
Feels me then 
As light as feather
Floating up into the azure.

Before my inner eyes, 
Barely exposed I’m
In my living portrait 
Caught in the lens of camera
Zoomed in and out
To perfect my image 
With my own personal touch
Just for hanging in the wall 
Of my living room.