Rinchen Dhendup

You're the the most beautiful poem I have written,
Personifying my Verses even without dictions,
Giving my lines the Rhythms even without the Rhymes,
And giving my poem the blissful mood that remains constant.
...

I merely touched a tree,
Touched the raspy bark of the tree.
No typical feeling aroused,
Rather concluded as rugged barked tree.
...

Life can be likened to the Seasons

Variegated spring passing by awhile.
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Waving cheerio to the cold and to the dry
To repaint the natural world around
To beautify its cyclic epoch of a year
The three calls on and welcomes the spring.
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Green Shangrila.
As I stand still and the gaze my country side from the hill I stand,
I can say our place is still a Shangrila adorned by pristine nature,
Withstanding the forced battle of modern times, weaken though.
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It isn't tough so to speak;
Unlike Gamblers' lingo.
It is not of learning too;
Neither bounded by rules;
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Why I am my way but not your way?
And of not how you say.
Why am I not like you?
Or are you like me too?
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Some fellow call me, hey black man!
Hello! Without fury I grin at them;
That's what I am, nothing to be upset of;
For I am contented with what God dyed me.
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It was hard to say Goodbye though;
I had to come miles even if I wished not so.
I could do nothing as I had to be on gears;
Rather on back I had to pack all of our cheers;
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I have my eyes drenching in tears;
Wage, worth enough for my push;
For loving you with all my soul;
...

...

If you're to leave;
Are you worth of a grief;
On knees at your grave to weep; .
Or you're merely a page to flip?
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I am the poet, rather of my Will,
Jotting down the lines when in feel,
For nothing can please me but poetry,
I find it in every little things like pottery.
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What is there in the name?
Why Rose is called so ‘Rose'?
When people say it smells sweet.
Why not so as ‘Sweet'?
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Upon hearing the Nature's frequent call,
I went to attend the glory of nearby Spectacular Fall.
Away from the mundane and factitious world of living,
In the heart of the nature so replenishing.
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We Bhutanese, yes we're so to nation
The Air that we breathe in is pure,
So is our thought, righteous and clean.
The land on we grow is rich,
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My solitary song I sing
Battling the blues in my verse.
For jovial and pleasent it's not,
I must dare to sing to all by myself.
...