Fly

I tried
You denied
I tried
You took a flight
I tried
You still denied
I cried
You were right

"Always stay in love with life, you have so many things to fly for"

So I plucked my wings and flew away.

And I love my life.

Song

A song must be sung like a singer should sing
Of all things of beauty and bounty of being
Of cigarettes and whisky and muses you seek
A singer should die for a song to be written

A song must be sung like a singer should sing
Thoughts must be killed for songs to be written
I have murdered my fingers and guitar strings
For a song to be written for the singer to sing

A song must be sung like a singer should sing
Of Love and Poetry and melodies unwritten

A Song by the Fireplace

When you are lost, hopeless and homeless,
The earth is shelter and night sky your food.

When tears fall down your cheeks,
And no one remembers that you exist,
You seek guidance in belief and lay down your thoughts
On little pebbles that get washed in the rain
Hoping feeling fearing that all will be well.


When the sun smiles tomorrow
Praying trembling crying you hope
That tears will dry and smiles will return.

When you are lost, hopeless and homeless,
You remember the mansion your parents built,
The warm heaters and colourful blankets,
The fire place that burnt with big logs of life and laughter,
And then you know that you never wanted no home, no love, no place,
That it was your choice to wonder forth into the world.
And yours alone.

To seek what?
To experience what?
To meet who?
To live where?

Good stories are never written in books,
They are first lived.

From tears of fountain,
And years of pain,
A book I will write someday in disdain,
By the fireplace I will read,
My own life as it unfurled,
Warm and cozy near the ambers of yesteryears,
As tears roll down my wrinkled lips,
I will remember all the tears that kissed my lips,
When I was once lost, hopeless and homeless.

Flower's Fall

one by one the petals fall,
the flower is dead
and so is the bee,
the honey remains deep in the sea,
suckle them
carefully,
those memories.

To The Tobacco Act Victims in Jail

When all with sight are blind,
Only the blind can see,
When dumb people talk,
Those who can- cut their tongues,
Stitch their hearts and burn nine lives,
The fire blazes silently,
The chimney cries with white swirls of smoke,
Burnt are those lives,
To amber and ash,
A phoenix would rise,
But dead men don't walk.

Oxford Graduation

MSc. Biodiversity Conservation and Management. My lucky stars :))

London be Good to Me

Dearest London,

It is good to be back and you look like you have been doing well. But you are a very expensive city. The most expensive I believe and only the first few days here are always glorious. Going to Tate Modern, soaking myself in art and watching artists pass by, people, they all look so beautiful here, one more than the other. Outwardly yes, inside? Don't really know, a bit on the not very emotional side usually, emotion is not elegance? Display the British way- minimalism.

Alright, now I need a job. I can work for food and I even have a fancy degree from Oxford. I am so employable!

London, please find me a job and I want to live like a Londoner. London be good to me, I have high hopes from you. My story of struggle to get here, will enchant you and this is the story of the first Bhutanese woman to Oxford, it has to be something that will baffle you. I am history- I made myself as one I suppose.

Maybe I should write a book someday.

Okay London, just to reiterate, a JOB yes? I look nice in a suit- really.


Thank you,


Much Love,

M