Prasanna Mishra Poems

On the auspicious day
I also took my place
With a stoic frame of mind
Moved inch by inch
...

Wilted leaves I knew
Do not revive
Yet I believed
When you said
...

I am no God,
I cry when a child dies of hunger,
When a mother sells her infant to the wine merchant, I cry
I have no appetite to be God
...

Those grains of ashes
I yearn for
On the beach
The sea breeze blew
...

Pour dear clouds
Pour, with great vengeance
I would welcome your drops
At all hours of the day
...

Piercing lumps of stones
Inflict bruises
His frame aches
While the carrier moves
...

His leader convinced him.
He dwelt in poverty
And shunned prosperity
One was virtue; the other vice.
...

when lexicon
turns inadequate
when upsurge of dreams
fails to form
...