Colors of Conspiracy

Colors of Conspiracy
Komal Prasad Phuyal


The black and the while tussled one day
Over the numeric value
Each consisted
Desperate that they were
while approaching me
Each claiming me on each side
The black showed the half
And said, "You are of my kind,
Look, you have black hair."
The white saw only the other half
And shouted, "You have white hair
More, more than black."
Each had a choice to offer: either/or
I said: neither/nor
I am grey.
Fools, you can't code
The feel, the touch, the warm, the cool
Don't play seek-nothing
You reach no-where
When no-force is there
You are what you are
As I am grey
"Now, now," said they,
"Pay us the penalty
Because you are not like us."
Good, I paid and said,
The fuel still burns in you
Taking back to slavery
Of meanness at heart.


The numeric value
Was a conspiracy
With colors: two
Still haunting in the dark
Giving horrible shocks
For numbers represented the touch
And grey did not exist.


komalprasadphuyal@gmail.com

Colors of Conspiracy

Komal Prasad Phuyal

The black and the while tussled one day

Over the numeric value

Each consisted

Desperate that they were

while approaching me

Each claiming me on each side

The black showed the half

And said, "You are of my kind,

Look, you have black hair."

The white saw only the other half

And shouted, "You have white hair

More, more than black."

Each had a choice to offer: either/or

I said: neither/nor

I am grey.

Fools, you can't code

The feel, the touch, the warm, the cool

Don't play seek-nothing

You reach no-where

When no-force is there

You are what you are

As I am grey

"Now, now," said they,

"Pay us the penalty

Because you are not like us."

Good, I paid and said,

The fuel still burns in you

Taking back to slavery

Of meanness at heart.

The numeric value

Was a conspiracy

With colors: two

Still haunting in the dark

Giving horrible shocks

For numbers represented the touch

And grey did not exist.

komalprasadphuyal@gmail.com

My Online Books

Mother's Dream by Gopal Prasad Rimal

Mother's Dream
--Gopal Prasad Rimal

“Does that come, mother?”
“Yes dear. That comes.
That comes illuminating like the morning sun.
You’ll see a weapon hanging down his waist
Bright like dew drop;
And he will fight the evil.
You will turn doubtful: taking the arrival for dream
But he comes more palpable
Than fire and snow.”
“Is it so, mother?”
“Yes, at the birth I hoped to perceive
His shadow, on your countenance;
His image, in your baby-cute smile;
His voice, in your babbles;
Alas! That sweet song could not make
You his flute.
It was my youthful dream
That that was you.
Whatever may that be, that comes.
As a mother, I can assert with the voice of creativity:
That comes.
This is no lazy dream of mine.
You won’t be helpless upon my lap
And listen to such stories as if hypnotized
After he comes.You will be able to see, tolerate and
Assume him on your own.
You will say good bye to your mother
Consoling her to go to the war,
Instead of getting mother’s consolation like now.
Like a diseased one,
I won’t have to massage your hair thus.
You will see, that will come like storm
And you will follow like a leaf.
Long ago, every dead heart had felt tremor
At his arrival like the moon light from the sky.
Yes. That will come: You will rise.”
“I think that will come, mother.
Hope of his arrival has grown goose on my body
Like the throats of birds at dawn.”
Yes, that comes.
That comes illuminating like the morning sun.
Now I leave.”
•••
“But, it was my youthful dream
That that was you.”

Translated by:
Komal Prasad Phuyal
komalprasadphuyal@gmail.com

confllict ph. d.

http://shss.nova.edu/Academic_Programs/DoctoralPrograms/PhdDCAR.htm

http://cas.memphis.edu

for comosition studies ph. d. in USA

http://www.unh.edu/composition/