Friday, October 28, 2016

An unsung melancholia...

That  ghetto of thoughts...
Stinks with the unwashed-
emotional lesions,
Spread around the darkness-
Deep in that dying heart.
The walls of veins-
all scratched and tattered.
An urge. 
For the freedom from self.
Coyly smiling at the pain-
That assaulted the tears.
Who is butchering the light?
A hope that once existed!
When all beings rise up 
With that rising sun.
 A fear hides behind that corner.
In that isolated-
Ghetto of thoughts.

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Pictures credit:

Friday, October 21, 2016

Reading your mind!

How narrow a mind can be?
When you are worried about a few droplets,
In front of that enormous sea!
And secretly, keep a coin in that pocket-
Inside the vaults of gold ingots, till your knee! 
Still! You complain of no good sleep-
On that bed of linens, warm and cozy!
That discomfort you grow, in that coffin,
Of that narrowness inside you- blur and hazy!
You faked your life-
Of being broad, a sucking flea!
Yes, how narrow a mind can be?
To trespass that narrowed lane.
And boast of being free!
Trapped in that insanity of being sane!
Well, how narrow a mind can be.
When a thread of thousand thoughts gets stuck!
And the vast Universe passes free!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"