Hem Raj Bastola

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.

?
Dark of the night
Silence creeping
Dead is alive.

Rattling among the bones
Cracked ribs I hear
Nibbling skin, rats are enjoying
Smoking kiln active
Invisible fireworks blasting.

What a celebration
When life is in transit
The bridge is needed to cross.
A thread of hope is blinking
Far ahead the phosphorus flame
The grave is shining, a ghost
Emitting phosphorus
Enacting to live.

And I, as in dream
Terrified and
Paranoid, scream.

In order
To clear my vision
Journey of imagination
An obscure memory
Engraved into
Eyes.

Playing
Papers I learn
To make the plane
Word-knots fixing: a bolt
Riveting clouds
Every now and then
Immersed into
Aesthetic
Infinity.

Whenever
The paper planes
Bring me back
An exhumed child
Carefree and wild
Reminds on each
Transmitted paper
To rebirth again
Running into
The field.

I read
Your face
On the way I walk
Face to face smiles
Gathering.
I answer a question,
Who am I
To appreciate
You?

I climb
The tower,
Blurred past searching
Horizon to horizon, peep
And I find you
Disappeared
Among the clouds.
Oh! Beautiful stranger
Am I impaired
In vision
Or are you
Obscure?

For the angles
Of your beauty
My defunct
Clinometer is
Unable to measure
The height
Of your mystery.

Spring
Is hindered
In my garden.
Waxed by winter
Freezing so pale.

A furrow…
Did plough
In the ocean of my heart
And the current
An electric shock…

My eyes are blind
Meteor from the heaven
Freezes.
And galaxies not seen
None of the milky ways
move.

It is so dark.
And dark
Where is the light
You took on lease.
Goblet of your dew
Collecting.

In a dark fortnight
How am I to satiate
My thirst…
Without your face.

Street
To street
A strange juice
He makes
From the layers
Of imagination
His hidden flesh
Squeezing clouds
Sailing the air
Oh! Incisive
Soul.

If any audience
You have Oh! Wind
Carry Oh! Carry
To purify the ears
The gong of prayer
A temple bell
Sings.

Magic
Of such art
Winding a juice
In silence he serves
Among the busy streets.
Standing on the corner
A mute consumer, I
Ready to drink
A glass as now he fills
Exuding from
The rock.

Neither did
You hear
Nor did I

The flow.

Country
Where I lost,
I found again
In somnosis.

A make believe
In dreams, a disease
Did not flow with time
To stronghold of belief
And I live
In somnosis.

Perennial
Perfume flows
From her mouth.
A melody, a song I find
Listening to her
Addictive charm
A deep slumber
Brings me near.

To observe
Her dance
With waving hair
Her juicy apple cheeks
To bite.
From Mongolia or Tibet
By the effect of mountain air
She smiles among
Blooming buckwheat,
Inviting my lips
To her lips
As I employ in agreement.
I reach to drink
A current from her cheeks
And I awake
In somnosis.

Her
Involuntary presence
In my dream
Leaves unerasable imprints
Still a quest unremitting
A deep longing to see her again
A somnambulist asks
To cordon every corner
In somnosis.