The Young Men Left Us


The young men left us.


They took everything with them—

Money, warm April breezes, youth,

The scent of parijats, and above all, love.


The young men left us, 

And went to work as migrant laborers

In distant sultry lands,

Far away from the touch of Heaven and Hell.


All that remains, here in the hills,

Are the dusty poplars, the winding lanes,

The cottages with broken eaves,

The decaying walls, roofs of rusting tin,

And reticent villagers crippled

By the constant hammering of heavy memories.


“Where’s your son?”


Don’t you ask that question!


The answer is obvious.


It is a feeble pointing

With a languid index finger

Toward the dusty gravel lane,

And a cold look with yellow eyes. 


Bibek Adhikari

Poetry by Bibek
Read 362 times
Written on 2017-06-29 at 09:19

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"Where Have All The Flowers Gone? ... Long Time Passing ..."
Peter, Paul, and Mary sang it long before you were born. That's what your poem reminds me of. I don't think they will all come back. This is very good and makes a very strong point.
All of it is good, but the last stanza drives in the knife. Good work.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Well done, Bibek. Will they return? Around here, they don't.

"Where is your son?" And daughters too.
Kids graduate and move on, hopefully to
better places where they can find work,
where there is nothing at home. Good write.

ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Bravo Bibek! where have all the young ones gone? Gone off to find work long way way away! When will those runing things back home ever learn!

KYREUS of Sweden
So strong words,
brilliiant bout
Real /Cruel/ Life.