Hem Raj Bastola

In the
Cold desert,
Along with
The howling wind.
On horseback,
Galloping.

A strange
Weather beaten
Unfamiliar face,
Turning back
A grin throwing,
Continues his
Hurried way.

May be,
A herdsmen:
A Dhokpa, singing,
Making alive the air.
Pulling my ears of
Attention.

And I, lost
In his melody,
Staring till his horse,
In the vast horizons;
Of: green pastures
Disappears.

Musing
Still echoes
The tongue of:
A nomad
Ringing.

Note: Those people in Tibet and in Nepal bordering to Tibet, having a nomadic life shifting their flock of sheep, goat or yaks in the high pastures, living under the tent, are called Dhokpas.

editors note: Grin caught, attention pulled, ride on… – mh clay

I am the past,
I am the present,
I am the future,
It is the time I am living
A fruit of: my KARMA.

I am the WATER
Blood in my veins
By the heat, scalding.
I am the AIR a moving spirit
I breath. I am the EARTH,
An elemental dust
A flesh to decay.

I am the SKY,
A lurking void
Of the universe, to unite.
So, it is not me,
What I am saying “I”.

I am a product
Of a FIRE, empty
Like a living smoke.

Smoke! Smoke!!
And Smoke!!!

Whirling,
In a nightmare,
I awake.

Living
Subconscious,
In the unconscious
Hours of sleep.
A thought in me
Was eager
For: beauty.

Her face is:
A red apple,
With a juicy bite,
I realize.

Romantic
Depth of night
Where your shy lips
Were shivering
But the smile
Was attractive.

When,
I fondle you,
Your coy smooch;
Attacks tenderly.
As you huddle me,
A pair of clementine,
Ask me to peel.
They were
So soft.

And
A sweet,
Recondite,
Juice of night
You serve;
to my thirsty
Soul.

A hook in the eyes,
Fishing a dream.
Enthralled, pulling: a rope
To net your mute beauty
Unmatched, climbing high
To harvest on eyes.

In the vacant horizon I play,
Reading every silence.
Find you are my life, when I am alone.
There you stand in front,
What is that of you?

Unreserved, planted deep,
A memory; missing: I cry.
Recurring dream of a foreign beauty
Haunted deep flying high.
I walk alone,
In a lonely street.

Tickling my roots of:
Involuntary sleeping nerves,
rubbing on a flint you spark.
The fire of: your beauty,
That you ornament and
The shine on your face,
Paralyze my mind.

Grinding,
In a vortex,
Flour of my mind,
Dough, and spin.
Loosing free the skeins
Of: a thought.
Experience ink.

Reminded
Memory of the day,
Like Hydra walk.
Looking for veins to suck
Needle my skin.
Stranded I walk bleeding,
As you ravish me
On the way.

Blood,
That coagulates
On my feet, slimy
and slippery, I end:
With spindle yarn
Of leeches: a rein
Controlling my
Evacuated brain.

Who
Is gonna think?
Her vague presence
Buried in the
Womb of silence,
And I weep for
Her beauty.

Got drunk,
In my madness,
Spinning her dream;
In the haywire.
Loitering in the streets
In search of poetry,
Collecting sights
To stir, in alleys.

Sitting
On a temple porch,
Pondering night,
Did not meet any thought.
Melting by the temperatures
Of: emotion, kissing whose
Unkissed lips.
You create a current,
Oh! Volatile.

Dancing with
The caressing breeze
For the droplets of dew
Distilled tonight.
Surprise of a turn
With sericeous head
And seductive smile
Disappear within a wink
Flying to the world:
Of nymph.

And as a
Destitute dreamer,
Staring at her flight
I wait for an
Early plane
To catch.

Spinning
Flocculant wool,
Weaving a gravid
Thought.

A blunt tip,
Blindly forged
Into a furnace
Of a brain
To sharp.

Spinning
A sharpener
To pencil a thread of
Wired inkblot
Brood.

Twisting
Yarns the knot,
Giving shape to
A textile she
Brought.

Reading
Undulating
Beats of a heart
In a line of yarns
How I got
Lost.

Being
Indulged
Into silence
Madly,

Stock hold
Of energy scalding
Invisible here.

A thought,
Vague utterance
Of the vast;
A thunder.

Like
The flash of
Lightening
A current of
Brain wave
Trigger.

Erupted
Ember liquid
Golden rim of
Volcano wearing
Crater on my paper
waites the rain.

To become
A lake, where;
I can swim
So deep.

To fish
By the shore
I spread, the seine
Intertwined string
The knots.

I let
My sinkers drown
Loosening the rope
Waiting for her sight
Occupied with
Similar job
Other side.

How long
Do we live
Face to face
Opposite banks
Dissemble not, please
To embowel in arms
Come into the waters
I will pull ashore
The seine.