O lovely poem! You are the supple neck
That turns my head in pleasure and pain
In the odyssey of this ephemeral life, it is
Poem, which is saving me from ugly strife

I don’t know, why I write poems…. Why?
May be I will never know why…. And
I don’t know whether I am writing poem
Or is it the poem that is writing me

All I know is that…. I love poems
For Poems are as radiant as the Sun
And its rhythm gives warmth to all
Like the warm rays of the bright Sun,
Which heals the cavernous wound of all

Yes, I write to free my bottomless feelings
Prevailing deep within me, myself and I
For poems liberate my vacillating mind
And discharge the troubling thoughts of mind

I cannot deny my poetic pulse…. So I write
When I miss myself, deep within my own cell
Of frustration and gargantuan suffocation,
Which paralyses my heart and shatters my faith

Sometimes, when I stand alone and deserted
By the good things of life, I puke my sentiment
Out for the entire world to feel. Yes, I write it,
When I want the world to know my feelings

I don’t write for the sake of writing only
I write only when my heart urges me to write
That is, when I see roses in the garden
Teasing the humming birds and bees

The verity is that poem is like the oxygen
For it is very indispensable for my survival
I love poem and poem loves me much too
“Poem”, you are my best friend, I salute you.



Copyright 2002 Bhuwan Thapaliya