I MIGHT BE STILL THERE ON A CORNFIELD

Muck leaf dead on corn field
Laid slowly on a loamy bed
Exhales life; loam soil puff off
had believed there was no sky under the shade

There was a lie about sky
on a sunny day feather scattered??
What it might look; he was fascinated
on a cold night; flowers rolls downs its wings
To see a clear star on sky

Tore down himself ,he floated
away on the corn field
Above flowers;which may look beautiful to you
But yet; he doesnot want to fall for them

Every spring brings new hope
Every winter tore down every hopes
This spring Maggot sings freely around the line
This might be a time to blow away very high forever

Do u remember the last time
When we were together on a same barren cornfield
they wander ; i might be still there on a cornfield?

Simplification :;

Leaf = he

Flower = she

Sky = reality

cornfield = poetic illusion

maggot=blissfulness

Comments

The Last Train

Author's Note Poem Surrendering all my love on your feet Bondman of your forever's love Though i see you,imagine you two soul free man and free woman luggage of your love leaving on your feet surrendering all the love i live with I both yield and cast aside my heart's beat -Niteshtales-

WHISPER OF THE HOME

✍️Nitesh subedi In a small hut of east land with wooden-crafted railing balcony with a yellow, golden grain wheat field on the east. A tulip flower blooms out its whitish petals next to it; chickens are running down the lane; cows are grazing on the far lawn; and a dog is barking at the strangers who have just arrived from the long, worn-out journey. The silvery-haired woman stands there, peeking through the window of the smoky kitchen, with an innocence,strangeness, questioning, and concern gaze. Maybe it is mail from her son, who is living in a city? Is my grandson okay? Is he doing well? Is he coming this summer? She may look worried about it with lots of assumptions, but the traveler is unknown and doesn't even care about it. The man who was smoking on the balcony earlier climbs down the stairs to ensure and tell her about the stranger and letter. The man already knows that there was no letter from his son, and he also knows the heart of a good woman who is always concerned a...

दशैँ र सिलीगुड़ीको हावा

दशैँ र सिलीगुड़ीको हावा भाग-१ पश्चिममा घाम सल्कनु अघिनै हर्कमानको घर पछाडीको डिबिया भित्र सानो उजेली परैबाट उज्जर थियो।गोठभित्र खनिएको ठाँउबाट दुईवटा खाबा गाडेर अगाडिको शिर पट्टि ढेड फुट जति वर मुस्ली जोडिएको थियो भने पछाडी सम्म परेको भागमा उभिएर दुईजना स्वास्नी मान्छे खुट्टाले भसाएर ढिकी उचाल्दै पर्छादै थिए।भरखर भरखर धान फुटेका चिउराको आलो राग हर्कमानको घर अगाडि बाटा भरि रत्तिएको थियो।घरको पिढी देखि लिएर भित्ताका भाटाहरू सबै गोबरले लेप लगाएको थियो।सकभर आज सबैकाका घर रतुवा मटकिलोले फर्माएको छ।त्यतिनै बेला पर खेतका आली हुँदै सेता मलिन परेको गन्जी ,पसिनाले टपक्कै जिउमा टासिएको,बाहिर कालो रंगको सर्ट,सर्टका टाँक जति जम्मै खुल्ला भएर सर्टका भाग उत्तर र दक्षिण हावामा नासिरहेको मान्छे घामको मलिन चहकमा उसै हर्कमानको घर तर्फ आइरहेको थियो।तल भुँइमा सोरौला झैँ गरेर फुकेर ठुला ठुला हावा भरिएका जिन्सका पाइन्ट, पाइन्टमाथि कसिएका काला छालाका कम्मर पेटी अडिएको थियो। छालाको गुण भने कालान्तरले उखलेर छरप्रष्ट थियो।बडेमानको वक्ष छाती ल...

Tales of tale with Nitesh

Search This Blog