149 Quotes by Suman Pokhrel

As you entered the room stirring air with suppleness of walk waking up the stillness with jingles of cymbals making curtains dance to the sound of bangles aroma wafted into air from canvas and copybooks my paintbrush grew restless and pen became enraptured my eyes, hands and some other parts of my bodybecame electrified.

This market surging with sound of stream slogged by monsoon rain paints its picture with each stroke of speech.

As you entered the room stirring air with suppleness of walk, waking up the stillness with jingles of cymbals, making curtains dance to the sound of bangles: aroma wafted into air from canvas and copybooks, my paintbrush grew restless, and pen became enraptured; my eyes, and hands. and this and that became electrified.

Language is texture of images and music. We speak in images and rhythm, by taking help of words

I might just end up writing again a howl instead-- of an era ripped open; poetry that is soaked in the sweetness of euphoria is not taking shape in my mind.

At such moments felt my mind wake up with the temptation of life gathering courage for flowering beauty even in the desert of living.

May my pains remain with me, I won't utter, I express it not.

Let my pains remain with me.

Let my pains remain with me, I won't utter, I express it not.