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Poem
I Want to Plant a Seed of Poesy 

By Purushottam Dhakal

I want to write a poem
Every time
As people happen to die at road side
For lack of filling the stomach.
People are compelled to live a life
As they cannot buy poisons to drink.
I see them living a life like the things:
In search for shelter
And food to gratify the hunger,
He climbs on a cross for revolt.

I want to utter poesy
At every junction,
At the boarder imprisoning the voice of the truth,
And in the countries where the lies reaches the seat of the rule,
Halting knowledge from the path of reason,
As the gallows check the voice of people.

I want to recite poesy 
At the palace of power, glittering colourful, 
In a country lost within itself.
And I want to read poesy
In a country lost within itself lying beyond the Himalayas,
At the boarders of the those suppressing voice.

Yes, I wish to cry out a poem
In the lane where my village princesses get sold out,
In the labor market where village princes are stabbed,
In the cities seen at the arrival of the Spring
Where my people wash themselves with blood.
O, Rulers! Listen to my poesy.
I want to cry out the heart of it.

I feel restless at the news:
In the last winter,
The children hit serious with pneumonia
Could not buy even paracetamol
For their complete youth 
And I rise to shout slogan against
Your socialism, your democracy.


The myriads of children
Dead with your weapons, friends
And poisonous gas.
And the Lord watching on it.
Is this your justice?
Putting fire on the paper of my own poesy,
I want to burn into ashes your heavenly rule, alive.

Fie on you talking about righteousness:
Like an animal,
You set out to rape in a gang
Wrapping her in a burka.
My Lord, if you really exist,
I will ask you, a hard slap on your cheek,
“When do you get some time from wandering at the palaces
To look at the sulphurous killing fields?
When will you reach there?
Or are you the phantoms of rulers?
Just like the revolt in the poesy recited here now.”


Yes, I want a seed of poesy to plant,
I want to sing the crop of revolt, removing weeds from the hearts 
Even in my absence, it will grow into a tree:
I know the truth will win that day.
As my mind plants seed of poesy
At the sight of the dark and the unjust in the world,
A day will come
When they will sing my poem together
And the Lord of phantom wandering only at the palaces
Will get to know:
There’s only one race of humans
And both devas and demon are one
In human.



With love,
2nd January, 2018
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