I Will Not Die
The bright yellow sun has / Set behind the Freedom Hill / Now I cannot put my faith in / This dark and violent storm
Old and new poetry written by Tibetans, listed by newest first.
To see all the poems of an author, click/tap their name.
The bright yellow sun has / Set behind the Freedom Hill / Now I cannot put my faith in / This dark and violent storm
Snowflakes pull their punches landing / On my face much as cats do,
My body is trapped in a heated room. / Light shines from the ceiling. / A leather sofa invites me
Amdo Sershul hoards his war stories, / deals them out sparingly to passers-by / in their times of need.
You asked me if / I still love to write / I said, yes I do.
This is how it will be. / We will take a walk on concrete, not blue tiles.
This year’s crop did not flower. / It was the lack of rain compounded by
Whistling of wind / Messages from beyond / I fail to decipher
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: With the dawning of August 8, 2008 / The vicious lies and hidden traps nest at Beijing’s gate
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: For years you have labored for our freedom / To realize our rights and our own kingdom
An old man below a weeping willow / Hears the wind whipping / The leafless branches / Hanging down
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: When in the Beijing Olympics / Win for free speech / Run for human rights
Why is his blood so hot? They ask, / And I tell them — / That you were orphaned by circumstances
Ladies and gentlemen, / these trace fossils belong to / our dearly departed Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The fading mirage, / The offspring of those poor and clandestine tribes, / Amidst the great mountains and flowing rivers,
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: Ama Jetsun Pema-la / You are the ever bright sun / That shines through the stormy weather
You see him walking / Walking… not crawling yet / His head slightly bowed
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: Just you and me and the starlit skies / Linked in silver chains and crowned with glory
Poem by Tsoltim N Shakabpa: Run, Run, The Ones Who Run / Run from God’s Earth
Moon-like flowers, / in the majestic medicinal land of snow, / bubbles of joy now mounting up.