by Prasanta | Feb 1, 2019 | Poetry
Winter Trees by William Carlos Williams All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among the long branches. Thus having prepared their buds against a sure winter the wise trees stand sleeping in the cold....
by Prasanta | Jan 25, 2019 | Quotes
“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” – Albert Camus “I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with...
by Prasanta | Dec 18, 2018 | Beauty, Christmas, creative nonfiction, Faith, Five Minute Friday, Hope, Journey, Nature, Pain, Purpose, soul, Stillness, Wonder, Writing, writing journey
Verb. Adverb. Noun. Adjective. Conjunction. This word “still”. I am here still. I am walking still. I am breathing still. I am thinking still. I am living still. Still the sun shines. Still she smiles. Be still. The leaves have fallen; still hope remains. In...
by Prasanta | Aug 29, 2018 | Summer
People are ready to roll out the pumpkins. Me? Not so much. Maybe it would be true, if I still lived in the south. Because I live in the land of a seemingly endless winter, I grasp onto every last sliver of summer. (I know what’s coming each fall, each...
by Prasanta | Dec 24, 2017 | Advent, Poetry
Official first day of winter– the solstice when darkness is bigger, greater, longer than the sun’s extended rays which reach my fingertips eight minutes later than when they first sizzled out of their thermogenic home This electromagnetic radiation reaches the...
by Prasanta | Dec 28, 2016 | Brokenness, Love, Pain, Poetry
Snow-Fall A single snowflake Floats weightless, airy But millions of flakes falling Land heavy, bring a roof crashing down Branches bend Dip underneath heavy snow Crack and break Descend on a cold hard ground In the stillness of night, do you hear The echo piercing...
by Prasanta | Dec 18, 2016 | Poetry
Snow-flakes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends...
by Prasanta | May 9, 2009 | Christianity, Freedom, God's love, Path, Promises, Purpose, Rest, Shelter, Treasures
In The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis writes that, in heaven, the grass itself seems to be alive. The “ghosts” (those just up from hell) can’t step on the grass without hurting their feet, while the “solid people” who’ve been in heaven...
