Poetry from Sushant Thapa

Under the Sky

Sky observes daily

Below it.

Many walkers

Looking around do not

Know about the gateway to man-made heaven.

It should not be a poem every time to

Talk about sky, rain and the sun.

Cracks on my ceiling

Climbs down to my spine

I search coherence in my papers

Grasses are gentle

Thorns sometimes pain the eye

Without pricking the finger.

Most of the time it is the beating heart

Afraid of the vastness above the clouds.


Homeless World

Homeless still people live

No lights are lit to turn off

No sheets and high held pillows

To wipe the tears.

No time to set an alarm for the morning

No morning to rest for the day.

How to live without staring at the ceiling?

Makes me wonder about the stars

 Sky of vast blanket can rain

Can cause the unwanted pour

Still life is carried

To sail like the every other leaf

Swept by the rain water.

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