Grey winter clings

To the dirty windowpanes.   


An old folk song plays

On the radio.                        


Dusk deepens.


My mother is fixing supper

In the kitchen.


After a busy day,

I read Madame Bovary.


Emma and Rodolphe,

The smooth folds of velvet

Conceal their weary hearts,

Their modest lips tell nothing

Of their inner torment.


Taking their clothes off,

Hurling their velvet jackets,

And balling up cotton stockings,

They climb into bed,                           

Their armpits stinking,

Their love-making foul and reeking.


A candid face now appears

Above my desk—

I reach out to touch her lips,

Only to find the image fade away.


Grey winter sighs on my table,

Ice-cold breeze knocks my mind,

A desert like emptiness descends

Upon my broken heart.



Bibek Adhikari


Poetry by Bibek
Read 179 times
Written on 2018-01-23 at 12:10

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Well done Bibek. This is laced with the feeling of lost love.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Grim is not hard to do. Affecting is. You've conveyed both. Good job.

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
The images so clear, the feelings so raw. I enjoy your poetry so much!

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
The pervasive sadness of January. You’ve caught it well.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
I think this is excellent. Your images are always vivid and in this case provoking.