Yuyutsu Sharma: August 2018

Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Upcoming homage to departed Nepalese Litterateurs

INVITATION

Remembering Nepalese Litterateurs

Jagdish Rana

Nagendra Sharma

Homage with a Poetry Reading and a Recollection

Friday, 31 August 2018, 3;30 pm at Nepal Tourism Board,

Exhibition Road, Kathmandu, Nepal

Organized by

White Lotus Book Shop,

Kupondole, Kathmandu

in collaboration with

Peace and Development Center, Kathmandu

RSVP 5520248/9803171925

Nepali poets will gather along with some of the close associates and friends of these distinguished Nepali authors and pay homage to the departed souls by reading poems in their honour and discussing their influence on Nepali literature and society

Saturday, August 11, 2018

Final Cover of Summer Issue of Pratik

Saturday, August 4, 2018

The Cover of Pratik's Summer 2018 Issue; First Look

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From Yuyutsu Sharma's "The Lake Fewa & A Horse : Poems New"

Glacier

A hope

that someday I shall sprout

like a tree

on the edge of a remote hillside.

A hope

someday a Queen-of-the-Night

shall bloom in my chest

and suck all the smoke

I have inhaled

in these malignant cities.

A hope that someday

a just born brook shall clean

and wash

bacteria of greed in me.

A hope that someday

a Buddha meditating in the niche of a cairn

by the heap of the city

garbage shall shake his limbs

and walk away towards a village of eternity

to take another birth

to save me

from the shame of becoming a glacier.

River: Morning

Cruel river

knows each time

I come to brood

over her roaring waters

each time I come

to her deafening banks

to gleam my dreams

over the plump flanks of her warm body

each time I come

to pour last of my life’s salt

in the ringing gorges

of her sonorous frame,

a bone breaks

in my smoldering chest

and a wrinkle appears

across the shriveled leaf of my life.

River at Night

Dark night

I cannot see the river.

I can only

hear it thundering rumble.

A water well explodes

enamored in the fleshy

clutch of fluffy

clouds, making a cave of this gorge.

Only fingers of the fireflies

illuminate its shape, the wild limbs,

as the river fumbles

curled around the hefty thighs of the night

to find a wink of sleep.