Image

Ancestral Cobweb 

A nostalgic poem, by Sushant, exclusively for Different Truths.

The smile 
Only on photographs now 
Of our grandparents. 
They were our grounds  
Where we played. 
We grew with them, 
The sandbags and swings 
On our yard,
Fixed by grandparents.  
We were childish in 
The days of dawn
When our grandparents 
Taught us childhood lessons 
Of inking our name on the sand, 
Where the shore of the ocean, 
Would take it away as we grew older. 
There was contentment 
In our childhood days.
The wrinkles on our grandparents’ skin 
Never taught us to not play 
With our youthful complexion.  
We do not forget our grandparents. 
The modernity has its nostalgia 
But its past is not forsaken. 
We call it history, 
It is the time that never gets old. 
An old grandfather clock 
Showing true rings of time
Ticks and ticks. 
The garland on our hand, 
Waits to adorn the photographs
Of our grandparents, 
The ancestral cobweb, 
Does not bind us to forget 
Something precious from the childhood era 
Still not bygone. 

Picture design Anumita Roy

author avatar
Sushant Thapa
Sushant Thapa is from Biratnagar, Nepal. He is an M.A. in English from JNU, New Delhi, India. He has written three English poetry books and translated one from Nepali to English. He teaches Business English, Literature and Managerial Communication to undergraduate and master’s level students.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Releated Posts

Of Laundry, White Shirt and Rebirth

Soumik’s poem describes the washing machine humming to life and spinning dirty laundry into rebirth, for Different Truths.…

ByBySoumik De Dec 4, 2025

Haunting Baroque Melodies Over Restless Blue Waves

Sayantani’s poem deals with baroque whispers on blue shores: a nomad bard’s haunting tryst, for Different Truths. The…

Aquarius/Living out of Poem

Aquarius A poem of longing and wish by Tatjana. Dedicated to Dragoljub Djuričić While it’s raining, and when…

ByByTatjana Debeljacki Dec 2, 2025

When the Flame Dies, True Love is Reborn

Ashok’s poem dwells on a lone flame, it flickers low, whispering the ancient truth: every life must dim…

error: Content is protected !!