Nepal : of folk and land
An old man waits, smoke in hand
While buses pass, sit or stand.
Takes a breath of smoke and dust,
Blows a dream of steel turned rust.
Assumes the gift of charity
Laughs in the face of integrity,
Each deep crease a story told.
Each glazed eye a truth witheld.
With calloused hands and weathered face
A pot is mended, garments laced
Through festive silk and painted face
Steps rehearsed with feline grace
A smile is born a cheeky grin
Which lacks remorse, which lacks chagrin.
An infant man with doleful stare
Short of stature, short of grace
Cries the line of a thousand friends
Cries no tears for bitter ends
For what is given is all there is
What ungiven, a hallowed bliss.
A range of hills, no soil unturned
No matter cliff nor tree nor burn
A people carry a foreign load
A people dream of lands abroad.
A mountain range the source of dreams
First to shine, last to fade.
A mountain range, the death of whims
Dreamt of wealth and bragged charade.
A name revered, a name to be feared
A name not worn as a badge of cheer.
Posted on November 2, 2010, in Nepal, Photography, Random Musings and tagged culture, dylan toh, Everlook, everlook photography, marianne lim, Nature, Nepal, Photography, poem, Portraiture. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.