I am DEBADARSHI PANDA, born in a remote, rural village of KEONJHAR, ODISHA.
I had my primary education in my village school, secondary in a nearby school of my village.
My secondary school, teachers played a significant part in the evolution of poetry so as my early life. All my teachers are the constant source of inspiration for me in all my pursuit, especially teachers of LITERATURE, MATHEMATICS.
I do believe it is the eternal truth; the thoughts wear the dress through a sensitive heart only for the endless blessings of my great teachers till today I met.
I feel amazed at any piece writing I complete, that how could I write. It may be intangible, yet vividly in... more »
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Deb Panda Poems
Oh’Muse! You appear at this cross- Upon the rising flame of earthen lamp Lighted- in my evening prayer,
A Summer Afternoon Rain
Oh’ Muse! High from the highest ranges! Your smile hails with respite- Stealing this fervent memories weary band-
SONGS OF A BRIDAL ROBE
Sing this beauty; pause not- For it will fade after its plot, Harshly; in rough passage- Gets weaved in glorious beauty.
A VOICE, I LISTEN IN RESILIENCE ...
Rued! This soul didn't fade; Questioning; the despaired fortune -foul! And wonder? may not this deserve- To listen; upon resilience, upon my soul.
A THOUGHT CAPTURED IN HER EYES
A thought descended over, Her; Lustrous Eyes; brimmed with dreams, To ascent over Her Childish Smile- Unknown! Fear - prejudice of his cycle.
My Mother they call- Fortunate is mine to be blessed- to be prized for the struggle, that melts into sweet harmony -
An Evening Spirit Stuck, Down Hillsides
Words: beats- elude my heart- In a gloom- stuck evening spirit far, Reminds the beauty -hillsides plot; Whose smile emptied- with thoughts;
Dreams & Nights -Unvoiced
All these beats pass by- Dreams; the nights elude my sleep- With your childish smile, calm demeanour- Asleep- to set out; my trip-
Oh Muse! Weary droplets strike against the space- Left blank in your quest of this birth, Sails through dust, cold rain, fiery sun
Belonged to a space of galaxies- I could rarely dreamt of- With this tiny heart to face, To all richest treasure and hope.
When We shall meet Again-
We shall again, raise to the childish Sun- In adorned courtyard of yesteryear With fading memoirs of all tears, We shall meet-whistling meadows, midway summer!
SMILING; THUNDERS OF GRACE LASTING WITH...
Oh Muse! You came down with thunders of grace, Smiling- raising voice of the lagged soul- Stifled; illness that no more dare venture
She asked to a puzzled cloud, To foresee where it would fall - After wandering miles and miles - And hence, weary for another trail.
A Thought Of Yours
How pleased is a thought of yours, It was only the nice gestures - I remember-as a fastening stream, Of a flood, that outflows the bank.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
You appear at this cross-
Upon the rising flame of earthen lamp
Lighted- in my evening prayer,
Flickering and steady with the wind!
I see you protect this pen;
With the dazzling shield-
When darkness delves deep into it-
Held high; with all kindness in reward!
Joyous- for this journey starts there.
And I reserve this flame for ages-
For my soul finds its temple,
That will go down generation, with undying luster;
Tomorrow -when they discover themselves in darkness!