by Prasanta | Dec 16, 2016 | Poetry, Quotes
Below are some inspiring and beautiful quotes by Pulitzer Prize winning poet, Mary Oliver. *********************************************************************** “Listen. Are you breathing and calling it a life?” “Hello, sun in my face. Hello you who made...
by Prasanta | Dec 9, 2016 | Poetry
Freely Roam You know I long to roam, at my will Like wildlife and buffalo In the wild backdrop of forested hills I see herds on the path, just downhill Past steaming springs, bubbling above ground It makes me long to roam, at my will I hike...
by Prasanta | Dec 8, 2016 | Poetry, Uncategorized
My window-pane is starred with frost, The world is bitter cold to-night, The moon is cruel, and the wind Is like a two-edged sword to smite. God pity all the homeless ones, The beggars pacing to and fro. God pity all the poor to-night Who walk the lamp-lit streets of...
by Prasanta | Dec 6, 2016 | Pain, Poetry
Is it better to fall slowly since the landing will hurt – or is faster better? Pain, either way How far is it to the moon? Who will catch remnants of a collision with dust still falling? Dust embers ignite, sear souls, leave smoldering sands in their wake To...
by Prasanta | Nov 22, 2016 | Poetry, Prayer
It is not simply for evening breeze, dark pond, lustrous inky sky, hum of crickets, cool grass, evensong of creatures, that she emerges. It is the lure of soul awakening, nudging, prodding, drawing her into depths visible only at night. She roams moon-soaked fields,...
by Prasanta | Nov 21, 2016 | Home, Poetry
Going Home Sweetness drips, roosts on the edge of the blade, and my feet aren’t hurt. Finding a multitude at any given moment, I am undone, orbiting on an imaginary hammock, swinging and creating my own breeze. I gaze up to see the v-shaped geese, flying to the same...
by Prasanta | Nov 17, 2016 | Kindness, Poetry
Small Things He smiles through wrinkles She’s in the nursing home now A tear slides down his cheek He brushes it away She doesn’t see He pushes the wheelchair Slowly up the ramp he had built So she could visit her home And he’s never in his home anymore Because he’s...
by Prasanta | Nov 9, 2016 | Poetry, Prayer, Quotes, Writing
by Prasanta | Nov 4, 2016 | Journal, Poetry, Uncategorized
Just down the street a bit, there is a wooden bench right by the river. I do not come here as often as I should, or as often as I think about coming. Yet, I have come in all the seasons, except winter; it is not so easy to linger in the winter. Besides the two male...
by Prasanta | Oct 30, 2016 | Poetry
Falling, like leaves Dreams pile In cordate heaps I follow a leaf floating In a wild wind Like the leaf— Unzipped, undone By words, by a breath Falling to a death Of proportions previously Unknown Surrendered, Fallen, released, Crushed On forest floor. This, the...
