Bhuwan Thapaliya

Bhuwan Thapaliya is a Poet Analyst - Economist and a Journalist from Nepal. He is also an associate editor of The Global Politician, an online magazine published from New York. ( ).

A thing of beauty isn't a joy forever to me.

A thing of beauty
isnt a joy forever to me.
Ive never seen beauty
dancing with the eternity.

Im not perplexed
by the ecstasy of the beauty.
I know it is not as beautiful
as they think it is.

I look at the world and ponder
over the phenotype of the beauty.
Beauty is not beauty,
it is yet to be.

No elucidation is possible
of the beauty.
If only the beauty could speak,
Id know what beauty is.

Ive my own world
to live in- the world of generosity.

Have you ever seen the sky
running after the clouds?
Have you ever seen the flowers
running after the fragrance?

A thing of beauty
isnt a joy forever to me.
Even a thorn looks
as beautiful as the rose to me.

Ive seen the thorn
blossom into the rose.
And the roses
wither into the dust.

A thing of beauty
isn't a joy forever to me.
A thing of beauty
isn't a joy forever to me.

Architecture of the human heart.

A kiss on the lovers lips is not a metaphor;
it is a plain truth of love, and a first kiss
is nothing but an eternal journey towards
a more sophisticated understanding of love
as the architecture of every cell in the human
heart, continue to evolve evermore, in ways
that replicate the patterns of life. It allows it
to metabolize, and to disseminate itself
within the evolutionary potentials of the mind
that turns around and around, until it sits like
a stray dog, that sleeps for a while, howls, and then
saunter again, here and there, without any motive
at all, as the computers that churns the number
on and on, until they come up with an interesting
result - that has no statistical significance.
Such is the architecture of the human heart, my friend!

We are as diverse as the stars

I am not
in you
you are
not in me.
We are
as diverse
as the stars
in the sky;
we are
not us
we are
total strangers.

You live
in the color
of the rainbow
and wear
the linings
of the cloud
whereas; I live
in the silhouette
of the tyranny
and wear
the costume
of disparity.

You sleep
in the crescent bed
of the moon
and drink
the pristine
morning dew
whereas, I sleep
in the circular
bed of the adversity
and drink
my own sweat
in the severe heat of the noon.

You play
with the
Saturns ring
and caress
the countenance
of the sun
whereas, I play
hide and seek
with the death
and caress
the wounded hub
of my dreams.

You breathe
the divine
and think
like the cadence
of the heaven
whereas; I breathe
the twister
of belligerence
and think
like the
stagnant pond.

You shine
like the moon
in the full moon night
and soar
like the free bird
in the itinerary of the sky
whereas, I am
shrouded by the 
miseries of life
and soar to fall again
like the ashes
into the air.

You bequest
to the rose
and perpetual
to the river
whereas, I steal
the fragrance
from the rose
and curse
the river
for drowning my hope.

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