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December Nostalgia

Bibek Adhikari Friday, Feb 10, 2017 1353 reads

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File Photo: Masao Yamamoto. 


This Bright Afternoon

There is softness in the air.
Somebody plays the flute
In a neighboring house.

From the next room comes
A woman with a candid & gentle
Face, framed with ash blonde hair.

With a smell of bougainvillea
A voice floats in the warm air.
& she takes off her clothes—

Bright blue camisole &
Maroon panties—her armpits
Stink of old French perfume.

She climbs naked into my bed
Winter is in her hair & the smell
Of December lights her body.

In the warm sunlight
Through the green curtains,
We lie naked, winter in our mouths.

On the curves of our twined bodies
Lingers the finger of memories.
While our souls sway in the air,

Luminous like our bodies
Enclosed in each other & together
This bright afternoon.

Outside, cherry branches with 

Flowers shiver in the crisp air
Of cold & warm December.


This Grey Evening

A well-known solitude
Closes around us
& here we lay—
Passive & exhausted,

With eyes wide open &
Hearts closed & enclosed together,
While solitude keeps caressing us
With its knobby hands.

Here is no sound
Except the constant
Da-dum of our beating hearts.
The momentous conversation

Of the avocado leaves
In the wind
Your eyes close & they open.

You look at the ceiling,
Then, at me—
At my shoulder.
Your lips murmur

Soft vagueness on my body.
A languid shudder runs
Over my naked soul
& you laugh

& keep laughing, drunkenly
Until I finally know
The touch of your breasts,
The sweet secret odor

Of your dark triangle
Of love,
Which now passes
Through me.

Burning, impassive, exhausted,
We lay knotted together
Here like grapevines
Of immortality.

& thus ends
Our nude jubilation
With soft solitude
This gray evening.




This Ruddy Dawn

Curtains in the eaves
Stir in the dawn,
Ephemeral as our happiness.

The prayer flags flutter
In the nearby mountains,
Translucent as memories of flesh.

All night I watched
Your sleeping face
& forgot my name.

Your body now shines
In all the curves.
Your lips & eyes
& your drenched thighs
With an ocean full of fireflies.

Once more we will creep
Between the warm white sheets
& make love.

Once again,
At the very edge of the bed
Memories will end
In a fringe of moaning chorus,

This ruddy dawn,
Like the blooming pomegranate
In the garden below.



Bibek Adhikari is a student of English Literature at Tribhuvan University. He loves to read and write poetry. Twitter @bibek_writes

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