by Prasanta | Jul 30, 2014 | Laundry, Poetry
(1) Laundered Spin away stains Wash away witnesses Mud and spilled coffee– Leftovers from heavy duty, Normal, or delicate days. Forget what you saw, What I tried to hide. Toss into heated tempest. Fold. Prepare to get dirty again. Repeat the cycle. Repeat. A...
by Prasanta | Jul 11, 2014 | Poetry, social media
Internet Tea I can’t tweet on the phone anymore, I’ve got a date with my mouse; must let my fingers do the typing (not walking, that was the Middle Ages), while I sip tea and eat blackberry and apple pie I can’t face this book, I’ve got to digg in deep, since...
by Prasanta | Jul 6, 2014 | Poetry
Red Barnhouse Worn, weathered, smothered, soft As if hands had been smoothing Down its surface for ages We ran our fingers on the planks No splinters, no splinters The porch invited us to sit And live and rock a while We obliged the empty chairs You and me, we...
by Prasanta | Jul 3, 2014 | Poetry
Wheat Field with Rising Sun, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889 *** Streams of Amber When love’s fingertips brush against straw streams of purple, amber and golden tears flow trickling down to hungry souls and dripping into an earth permeable to tears of human feet and...
by Prasanta | Jun 18, 2014 | Journey, Poetry
Driving through the Hills of Pennsylvania Somewhere between Toledo and Leesburg I left them behind Driving through the hills of Pennsylvania Tumbling into valleys Pummeling east I see them approaching Catch them after crossing the Potomac The straps of the...
by Prasanta | Jun 6, 2014 | God's love, Poetry
Gently Cupped Hand When flowers fall down from heaven floating toward tumultuous land I know not where fragility ends as I’m caught in gently cupped hand. Vapors exhume in darkness but vapor of breath am I Weapons circle sharp around me–...
by Prasanta | Jun 2, 2014 | Poetry
lost and found I hide rumors in my tightly clenched fists, before I bury them, whole. You won’t find me asleep, nursing my wounds, fading like dusk. I lose roses, I lose nightmares, and find my...
by Prasanta | May 14, 2014 | Haiku, Poetry, Spring
clouds, saturated, release winter’s tears — quench springtime thirst.
by Prasanta | May 11, 2014 | Poetry, Spring
Somewhere, winter is dying Winter is dying somewhere We know it is time. The apple barrel is nearly empty And I am no longer muffled by the snow. I am not sure what to do when spring comes; will I know where to step, will I sink in the grass or stand...
by Prasanta | Jul 25, 2013 | Beauty, 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...
