October 31, 2016

One poem by Hem Raj Bastola

Beside the kiln

To catch
The hurricane
In a saddle
Of the folded mountains
Sleeping horizon
Unseen valley

Thoughts of
Steel mind baked
In the kiln of bricks
Toasted hard served
A Bread, too vague
Difficult to digest
The coal.

A baker
Exploring dark
His de-mattered future
Struggling so hard
Whose futile job
To get the food
To live.

The kiln a poet
Along with assaulted
Sulphuric nostrils
Breathing to cook
His words.

HEM RAJ BASTOLA is currently working as a freelance local tour guide in and around Pokhara Valley, Nepal. He has worked as a Guest Service Agent at the Hotel Pokhara Grande, as a cave guide, inside the cave area for all tourists as well as office assistance in Guptshor Mahadev Cave, as a substitute representative for Sita Travels, as a freelance trekking guide for tourists to the surrounding Annapurna range and as a book salesman in Annapurna Stationary Center.

Hem also enjoys writing poetry, listening to music and collecting stamps.

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