Prasanta Behera Poems

Pick up the stone as you walk in the sand
pick up as you try to reach the end
the stones are from days of yore
it may be of dinosaurs or life long before
...

Where are the dusts that covered the path
the broken pots sprinkled like a painters art
the morning smoke from the thatched huts
the jingle bell of cows and goats
...

In old man's front-yard, every fall
the Persimmon tree stands tall
laden with fruits from top to bottom
no one to pluck and hand them.
...

The mountain stands emotionless
watching the battle in its land
the victor go home
but the scar of death
...

Oh midsummer night moon
let me see your face
let me soak you rays of light
like a dew drop caressing a leaf
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I walked alone on the same street yesterday
which we used to walk every Tuesday,
crossing the busy street
until the roads meet
...

Spring afternoon
cloudy sky
falling raindrop
gentle breeze
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Darkness of summer stretched afar
unstarry night, coldness biting
hissing wind, fluttering leaves
hikers with headlights, tapping spikes
...