by Prasanta | Jun 17, 2018 | God's love, Holy Spirit, Poetry, Resurrection, Soul Work
Flammable (poem) Approaching flames warm hands and wake the mind, sparks sear the heart, ignite fiber of truth— a thread of hunger burns… Read the rest of my poem at Altarwork! *© prasanta 2012 Like dead bones coming alive… we also, dead in our sins...
by Prasanta | Jun 13, 2018 | Hope, Pain, Poetry, Redemption, sorrow
I choke on dust, wreckage of world, and my crushed bones of existence… Read the rest of the poem, posted today on Altarwork ….
by Prasanta | May 28, 2018 | Poetry
Lanterns They sleep peacefully here, hiding silvery secrets under thick, worn skin A whisper emerges from shadows, among rows of granite Quivering souls— now stilled The spirit of outstretched hands shakes in all seasons I feel the grip of hope, salute the...
by Prasanta | May 26, 2018 | Beauty, flowers, Poetry, Quotes, Seasons, Spring, Uncategorized
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of...
by Prasanta | May 23, 2018 | Beauty, Poetry, Spring, Uncategorized
“Besides this May We know There is Another— How fair Our Speculations of the Foreigner! Some know Him whom We knew— Sweet Wonder— A Nature be Where Saints, and our plain going Neighbor Keep May!” – Emily Dickinson, Besides This May, #977,...
by Prasanta | May 17, 2018 | Beauty, Poetry, Quotes, Seasons, Spring, Uncategorized
In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going down. In the pale evening gloom, when the soft fragrance of magnolias hung in the air, my heart would swell without warning,...
by Prasanta | May 11, 2018 | Art, Mothering, Mothers, Painting, Poetry
I wrote the poem below several years ago; I share it here once again for Mother’s Day. The Longing Arms Emptiness filled now and spilling when arms hold and hush the long anticipated one- sweet love requited. Did I know how empty they were- my...
by Prasanta | May 9, 2018 | Poetry, Thankfulness, Time
EVERY DAY My hundred-year-old next-door neighbor told me: Every day is a good day *if you have it.* I had to think about that a minute. She said, Every day is a present someone left at your birthday place at the table. Trust me! It may not feel like...
by Prasanta | May 8, 2018 | Memories, Poetry, Travel
When I was in college, I spent a semester in London and had the wonderful opportunity to visit the beautiful Lake District area one weekend. Five of us traveled there, stayed in a charming bed and breakfast with a gorgeous view of sheep dotting the hillsides...
by Prasanta | May 1, 2018 | Beauty, Nature, Poetry, poets, Spring, Uncategorized
May Day by Sara Teasdale A delicate fabric of bird song Floats in the air, The smell of wet wild earth Is everywhere. Red small leaves of the maple Are clenched like a hand, Like girls at their first communion The pear trees stand. Oh I must pass nothing by...
