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Best Poems Written by Purushottam Dhakal

Below are the all-time best Purushottam Dhakal poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Purushottam Dhakal Poem

An Ill-Fated Person Meeting His Loved One

'An Ill-fated Person Meeting His Loved One'

It snowed 
And she appeared like the snow
She appears like the speed of a storm
I do not know when she arrived
Like a pleasant breeze 
Why do I look for her somewhere else?

She is all wet in the heavy rain
The filth of the mind gets cleaned on her arrival
I get swayed when I see her
Why am I so?

The leaves have fallen dried
But she blooms at her fullest
Though this life is hers
Who am I becoming so covetous?

There is scorching heat, but she doesn’t sweat
She arrives like the hailstorm
But it’s me who sweat
Why am I so?

She smiles when we meet
She shies away when she sees
It seems my loved one sings and plays
But I go unmoved when I see her
Why am I so?

She appears in the early hours of the sun rise
But never disappears 
And I keep imagining her
Why am I so?

She keeps saying, and I continue listening
It appears the life has begun glittering
And when I peep into her, she shies away
Why do I but peep to see her?

Those deer-like blue eyes
Tightened arms
Those movements of a cat-walk
And I wait her coming at the cross-road
Why do I wait her
When I do not know
The date and time of her arrival?

The God carved her
And showered his blessings 
That the laughter and the joy be with her
Let no one do her any wrong
It has been ages that I haven’t seen her
But I can’t still forget her
Why am I so?

It snowed, and the snow melted
And then she rose
She bloomed and shied away like the storm
And then there is the scorching heat
I remember her in this heat now
I melt when I imagine her
Why am I so?

I don’t know why
I couldn’t get a sleep today
And there came a snowfall of the next year
I imagined a body like the snow
And thus my eyes opened
I met my loved one
What a fate I have?

Her legs staggered
Eyes wet with tears
Puckered lips
I could not tolerate the marks of lashes on her body
Why can’t I look at her
Even when I see her?

I heard to her sobbing voice
Exhausted shies and gestures 
The snow melted unnoticed 
And she too disappeared 
What an ill-fated person I am
Meeting my loved one!

Details | Purushottam Dhakal Poem

Change

To the melting snow
The winter asked
Do you no more have the desire to walk with me?

The snow answered
The time expired, and I didn’t realize my own melting
Probably I do not exist anymore!
So I thought, I shall become a flood and meet the sea
In this pretence,
At least my desire to meet the sea will be fulfilled
Again in the winter next year
To become the snow and fall, and to cover the extreme heat after that
I need to meet the sea.

Hearing me
The winter was startled
In that moment of farewell, the winter changed the colour of its face
Seeing the floating dry leaves
The spring season asked
You do not want my company anymore?
The dried leaf said
I have gone old and useless.

I thought
Rather than fly and disappear
It’s better to burn and vanish.
In this pretence
My wish to meet my soil
Might be materialized.

Probably I might become helpful
On the arrival of the next season.
On hearing the leaf’s idea
The spring broke into roaring laughter of separation
Changing the colour of its face.
Here the winter is gone
And the world is preparing to enjoy the conjugation with spring.
Probably hearing the words of the snow and the leaf
The changing colour of the roaring seasons
And this coming and going game of the nature
The dried leaf understood
The melting snow too understood
But as a man, I could not.
The leaf knows its end
The snow knows when it shall melt
The season too knows the time of separation
With the dried leaf and the snow.

:: Purushottam Dhakal a Los Angeles, California-based journalist working for the www.nepal24hours.com...Integration Through Media. (You can reach him via email: producerpuru@gmail.com)

Details | Purushottam Dhakal Poem

That Sinful Saturday

That sinful Saturday
A play of the nature
But couldn’t become pleasant
To the humans. 

Limitless possibilities
That couldn’t remain in the earth’s belly
Burst out
But that sinful Saturday
Yasodha did not give birth to Krishna
Like Kauravas
The waves of the earthquake turned disastrous
To my fellow people. 

A few drops of tears
The inevitable aching
And the labour pain
A mother gives birth to a divine son
But that sinful Saturday
Death knocked all the hearts
Or, the Himalayan tree called Nepal
Produced nothing but death. 

I can’t call it a death crop
But that play of yours
Probably is a divine apocalypse 
To transform my fellow people
From sin to religiosity
On that sinful Saturday! 

Killing my brothers and friends
That sinful Saturday
Left behind tears and the cries
But I didn’t want to call you a sinner
Because I’m aware 
This cycle of nature continues
Yesterday, today and tomorrow
O Earth, do tell me
Did that labour pain of yours
Give birth to a brave son
In my country, of my faith? 

Your labour pain
Has continued in the nature since time immemorial 
In my country that lacks a divine son
Tell me O God! 
On that sinful Saturday
Did Yasodha give birth to Krishna?

Details | Purushottam Dhakal Poem

I Want To Plant a Seed of Poesy

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

Details | Purushottam Dhakal Poem

Go Go Far Away

Go, Go far away towards the sky where you get free
You have the prerogative of your own life
I shall not stop the breeze flowing from my door
Though we might later calculate the price of the tears shed.

Yes, I’m aware of the fragrance of the flowers in my yard, and in your yard
It can’t be confined closing the doors; this earth is decorated with similar fragrances
The flowers are there to be decorated in a tray; and the body with the life are same
It is the deity who receives the flower; there is no worshipping without plucking it
Go, go far away towards the sky where you get free
I shall peep into the rainbow, pausing your love story in me. 

My first letter could not become my last letter
The deity gave a fate of a separate end of the life and body
Go, after my first letter, I have given my love letter to you
There is no threat of being lost or forgotten on the way 
Because my love letter was a beginning in itself
When you make a mistake of delaying in the beginning
The end too disappears in the horizon
The life is horrific than this beginning and the end
But the returning step is much easier—the death, emancipation!

The veil of the life should be undone in this world of illusion and mirage
Don’t attempt to cry a skyscraper sitting in the yard of a hut
House is just a place to get a nap; hunger is nothing more than a few bites
Life is just a cycle of meeting and separation of life and body
Let your body easily enter the door, and the let the food satisfy your hunger
And if you can get a nap in that hut, that would suffice for my life
I give you that wrecks of feeling which is not past but is a beginning
And that beginning will teach the life to smile every while
So, go far away towards the sky where you get free
And feel the freedom
The future moments of life shall be a moment
Where I shall pray God for the liberation through death
Go, go far away towards the ocean of annihilation 
I give this body to the river so that the soul can finally 
Meet you in the ocean.

Best Poems Written by Purushottam Dhakal

Life, Love and My Poetry

An Ill-Fated Person Meeting His Loved One

Change

That Sinful Saturday

I Want To Plant a Seed of Poesy

Go Go Far Away