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Best Poems Written by Sushant Basnet

Below are the all-time best Sushant Basnet poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Sushant Basnet Poem

Love Is Overrated

Love is overrated 
Misunderstood, miscalculated.
It is the morning mist,
A dew rested on the grass.
In the warmth, it ceases to exist.
with the heat of the sun, it's gone.
Love demands caring, 
Demands nourishment,
The constant attention of 5minus4 senses.
Love always dies slow,
Suffocating agony, a hard ignore.
Love is the cancer of the balls.
It's a haunting acoustic of an empty hall.
Echo bouncing off of the wall.
Love is at first,
Stardust, a diamond that shimmers.
Gold that's glistened with worth.
It's the first rain.
The first poetry a poet pens.
It's the first word uttered.
It's all metaphorical yet all literal.
It revolts, it's a rebel and a revolution.
At its pinnacle, it's greater than God. 
For Fu*ks!!!
A pomeranian with a pitbull's gut. 

In between love is
Understanding, compromising.
a doormat, a doorknob.
It's a lock and it's a key.
It is two different things. 
It multiples to cease.
It's the missing 
piece, It's all, it is. 
A boneless dick.
Puking sick.
It's a nefarious deed of a priest.
Love at last is
An unclean tongue.
A desire of a dying whore to become a nun.
It's constipation,
And stomach cramps.
It's the first kiss and the biting of the lips.
It's a fart that refuses to leave.
It's piss after a drink,
It stinks.
It's a bottled up perfume,
A wild bloom.
It's a ruthless warrior. 
A headless chicken. 
the vigorous flapping of wings without flight.
It's a dead eye.
And a lie.
It's the heaven of the scriptures, 
And a hell of the mind.
It's the sinister divine.
An indecisive crime,
A bell that doesn't chime.
It's screaming on the prayer.
A word unsaid, deed unpraised.
Love is but a suppression of hate.
A mistake,
Poison of a sweet taste.

©su_tshant

Copyright © Sushant Basnet | Year Posted 2022



Details | Sushant Basnet Poem

Mr Confident

Sometimes I wake with a heartache 
My relationship with life is like that of a wrist and a blade.
A strange twist of fate had me in this darkest place.
Tarnished by love and faith.
Can't make my way through the crowd without a weak knee.
Omg They're laughing at me,
omg they are talking about me.
Why is he looking at me?
Why the  is she staring?
Now my heart commences racing.
My whole body begins shaking.
Sweats breaking.
The world is chasing 
And I'm scampering 
with wobbling legs...
Talking head...
Shortening breaths...
Blurred vision.

ing anxiety ransacks my confidence.
I can't move, I'm frozen at the stake.
I got a Knott inside of my chest,
I'm caged inside of my head.
Need a way to escape.
1peg.
2peg.
3peg...
I'm now on pegasus.
Flying over the crowd.
Like the magic bean my confidence sprouts
Now I'm confident enough to welcome their doubts,
And disgust on their faces, whispers and disgraceful gazes.

Now they can call me names, call me phrases.
But I call myself Mr Confident for the day...

Copyright © Sushant Basnet | Year Posted 2022

Details | Sushant Basnet Poem

What Will Become of You

What will become of you 
Worries me.. she told me..

You need to get a job..
Earn money... she said..

She had had her job for 38 years.
For 38 years they'd tried to kill her.
They bought her youth,
Her beauty,
Her sleep,
Her peace 
For some thousands..

They gave her early aging..
Swollen knees,
Backache,
Hair loss..
Blood pressure..
They did all they could to kill her..
Take her life from her..
The fun, the joy...

They paid her 
So she could eat..
Gain a little more energy 
For them to feed upon..

They even made her believe 
That is how it was!
That's all that there was..
The only way..
That was how it was supposed to be..

But they are gonna take it 
All back.
With all the sickness 
There is gonna be a monstrous 
Hospital bills..

Her saving won't be enough..
She had her soul sold..
For what?

I think they even took her mind
And her sight..

But I know 
she'll gain back all her sense..
On her death bed..
But by then it'll be too late..

And it worries me...

©su_tshant

Copyright © Sushant Basnet | Year Posted 2022

Details | Sushant Basnet Poem

Billy the Goat

One day my brother went to a farm fair..
Bought a baby goat for a pet..
"Any of the regular pets would've been great. 
A cat, a dog or even a bird."
"But a goat?"
I thought..
It was cute, but still a goat...?

Anyway, as days went and time flew..
Our bond grew..
I named him little Billy..

Silly Billy followed me
Every where I went..
Hours together we would spend..

But I must tell you 
Something was really absurd about this goat..
It had an unusual fondness for human food.
I tried to feed him grass too.
But he refused to consume..

He had more qualities to him that made him unique.
He was a little gymnast,
He could roll,
He could jump and he could do flips too...
He would do stunts that I'd never seen other goats do.
Heck! He would even fetch little pieces of wood.

One day I had to go out to the town.
To pay a visit to a doctor well renowned..
I bade little Billy a goodbye..
Told him to be a good boy.
And that I'd be back soon
And bring him some toys..

The doctors visit went well.
Treatment took a day..
Reports took two.
Doctor gave me some medication..
Some pills I took..
Pills to make me feel good..

After I was back, the first thing I did was
Call out for little Billy..
He was no where to be seen.
Instead a little dog came in.
With it's tail swinging..
Jumping and panting..

I asked my brother what happened 
To Billy the goat.. 
My brother told.
There was no Billy the Goat..
It had been Billy the dog all the while..

©su_tshant

Copyright © Sushant Basnet | Year Posted 2022

Details | Sushant Basnet Poem

Trade of Hurt

My heart hurts yes it does! 
But I refuse to trade the hurt 
that reach me from my love.

It's to me, what a drop of honey is to a bee.
My life's work, no joy is plenty enough 
to match the sweet sweet agony of my hurt
That reach me from my love.

I drink from my hurt till I'm hollow,
Till I become the hurt and become no more.
I Sleep with no hope for the morrow
And wake up to a dream full of sorrow.
So rich and deep is my hurt 
that reaches me from my love.

I've cradled it, nurtured it
It's my breath that my hurt breathes.
I've traded my life for it
but I refuse to trade my hurt,
For my hurt is how I perceive love.





.
©su_tshant

Copyright © Sushant Basnet | Year Posted 2022




Book: Shattered Sighs