By Sushant Thapa
Reading poetry alone beside
a newspaper pasted sullied dead
on the wall of my old room,
I grow the memories
from the pages of poetry anew.
I am gazing at the wall clock which is old like the room;
ticking is the thought about it in my mind like the
tick-tocking of time in it.
I find the old poets so modern and yet far away
from my dreamy desk.
I try to think constantly like the time hung
on the wall of my room,
where lies my modernity?
Does it flow with the ticking time or
with the poetic glow I come across?
When I am sitting in my armchair
my mind stands with the effect that those poets create.
[Sushant Thapa is an MA in English Literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. He loves writing poems and fiction. He writes in the Nepali and English languages. His works have appeared in print and online platforms both from Nepal and abroad. He lives in Biratnagar, Nepal.]