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Where Tibetans Write

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Latest addition : 16 June 2014.

Poems written by Tibetans

This section's articles

  • Amdo Sershul

    20 November 2008, by Tenzin Dickyi

    Amdo Sershul hoards his war stories, deals them out sparingly to passers by in their times of need. Empty your bowels, fill up with stories! It’s not exactly cheap. No. 2 rupees for a piss, 5 for a shit, not what you would call cheap. But the stories have travelled far and they come from a master storyteller. He doesn’t talk about the actual battles, about rifles and rounds and exit wounds - No, he talks about before and after and I can’t be sure how much that’s worth. "…my friend (...)

  • Fated?

    4 November 2008, by Tsering Dolkar

You asked me if I still love to write I said, yes I do. But in that “Yes” Did you notice the quiet desperation? – of half-formed scribbles on notebook covers – the silent procession of my endless monologue dying to be heard above the roar of traffic. I am told it may be fate That ties my mind to such a rigid post. You can run within the circle But you cannot flap your wings and fly, Because you are who you are Your words will not be more than (...)

  • Yuthok Lane

    21 October 2008, by Tenzin Dickyi

    This is how it will be. We will take a walk on concrete, not blue tiles. You will pretend to be disappointed. This will have the quality of a ritual. In the morning the sun will fall from the sky, We will protect ourselves against its fire. It is not so unbearable but We have learnt to be wary of arrivals from the east. We are unbeautiful here. Our stay in the plains has made us so. But whispers now carry endearments. And we would not have it any other way. Outside the chapel we (...)

  • In the Fall

    20 October 2008, by Tenzin Dickyi

    This year’s crop did not flower. It was the lack of rain compounded by severe sunshine. The scythes curve in waiting, inviting rust and camouflage. Meanwhile our hands, still in varying stages of growth, interlock, making a too-small cradle. After the harvesting of such love, the heart must lie fallow for three years.

  • Haiku

    13 October 2008, by Bhuchung D Sonam

    Whistling of wind Messages from beyond I fail to decipher Mist in the valley Memories of another time Fades into space Moss on a wall A sign of decay We seldom see Wasp in a room Bangs at windowpane Freedom is confined Fish in a pond Floats with lotus petals Competing for the sun’s rays Rainbow in the sky A poet’s poet Utters no words

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