by Prasanta | Jan 14, 2016 | Poetry
Some Kinds of Loss Checkered, framed, lines in sharp angles Drawn around the faces of those inside. I stare and they change, get older, like Dorian did Yet a small sunny spot stays on her forehead, when she Held up the days with her own two fingers, When she...
by Prasanta | Dec 13, 2015 | Home, Poetry, Uncategorized
When Home It isn’t simply the camellias or dogwoods that draw me home but a string that pulls, pushes Appalachia aside and drags me under the Chattahoochee with the catfish. I resurface in the creek down the street, catch my breath on a blanket of pine...
by Prasanta | Nov 26, 2015 | Poetry, Thankfulness, Uncategorized
The Peace of Wild Things By Wendell Berry When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great...
by Prasanta | Oct 26, 2015 | Poetry
What did Autumn ask of you? What did Autumn ask of you On trails of fallen leaves Where children stomp Adults stroll and winds scatter? What did your eyes seek Among the rust, the gold? You were the rod, the arm, the voice You were honey withdrawn From...
by Prasanta | Oct 23, 2015 | Poetry
I remember you as you were in the last autumn. You were the grey beret and the still heart. In your eyes the flames of the twilight fought on. And the leaves fell in the water of your soul. Clasping my arms like a climbing plant the leaves garnered your voice, that...
by Prasanta | Oct 20, 2015 | Poetry
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark Makes its mark On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves Over fallen leaves; Then my olden garden, where the golden soil Through the toil Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, Whispers in its sleep....
by Prasanta | Oct 19, 2015 | God's love, Poetry
Autumn Leaf Beautifully curling upward, Cupping droplets that land on its skin I take my finger, wipe the drop Leaving a skirmish behind The autumn leaf is like a heart Turned toward heaven Changing colors, singing in its death— I wonder, Leaf, how many songs have you...
by Prasanta | Oct 16, 2015 | Poetry
O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow’s wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the...
by Prasanta | Sep 27, 2015 | Poetry
Besides the Autumn Poets Sing by Emily Dickinson Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze. A few incisive mornings, A few ascetic eves,— Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod, And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves. Still is...
by Prasanta | Aug 29, 2015 | Poetry
Unknown Gardens Summer shadows flutter, golden light filters Through lovely shades of crimson crab apple – the magenta blooms have long since faded and dropped to the ground, fallen among the rocky hedge and tanning mulch– Disappeared to become one with...
