Emptiness
As empty as a flower pot
With only mud in it and no flowers.
As empty as an echo in a new house.
Again, the rain stops making music
That is the sound of emptiness.
Blue thunder strikes a silver machine
The clapping sound of thunder leaves
Many doors of emptiness ajar.
A compartment in my dream train
Leaves behind coffee stains, kisses and cuddles.
When they are all gone
The journey is empty
Waking up statue of feelings.
Hard to break it down
In a derailed town.
Longer the night falls
Realization without dreams
Shake the darling buds of frame;
The outlook to life
Stationed somewhere.
***
Speed
This train of thought do not rest.
Speed is the ghost of time.
Trinkets sound like gold
Blood flows silently with speed in veins
No train wreck in memory itself
Only the recollection hurts somewhere.
They say rushing is useless.
What saves me is a fragment
Which rings like a church bell.
Desks wait for students
To grow in classes each day.
Watching Dylan Thomas
Recalling his school days
Through his own voice
Is again a clarity.
Which heaven ghosts miss
Angels question in whisper?
Speed is also urgency.
The world still remains alive
After people depart.
After they are gone the world
Should be again visited with speed.
A backward speed lingers, but also recollects.
Speed is also life
Growing as a weight of meanings
In young minds.
Speed of light kill the shadows.
[Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet who holds a Master’s degree in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. He has published two books of poetry. His poems have been published in The Kathmandu Post, Trouvaille Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Harbinger Asylum, As It Ought To Be Magazine, Litehouse, My Republica, The Beatnik Cowboy, Dumpster Fire Press, and Impsipred among many.]