Biography of Prasad Natarajan
May I introduced myself.
My name is Prasad Natarajan. I am born on a scorching hot summers day, Saturday 2nd of April 1983 to two humble and gentle soul parents. Their first child, and their only son. With day-to-day running around to make a normal survival, I am a private person spending most of my time writing something or painting. Poetry gives me another outlet to express my feelings.
Prasad Natarajan's Works:
Prasad Natarajan Poems
When I Dreamed
The windows of my body slowly close, Abandoned in a garden full of red rose, Walking amidst gentle flowing stream, Golden yellow cutting through sun beam.
Poor Man’s Love
Vibrant colors of red have engulfed the vision, Chocolate wrappers with silky skin,
Unflowering Spring Fresh pollens fill soft morning light, Tender leaves just emerge from branches,
Common Crow Rain drops on my forehead pour, Lion behind the clouds began to roar,
Dragon Dust Maverick dragon, Swallows a crimson pulp, gulp!
Rainforest Queen While the world is still oblivious to the breaking light,
Winter window Wasted warm daylight, Collective unpleasant dust,
Nestled between roofs, Chirping fluttering narrow,
Absorbing cold days, Solidifying weak moisture,
Grazing over the leftover blades of grass, Those sheep's go on bleating throughout the noon, So are those buffalo's like dark clouds that pass, Lonely thorny shrub dancing to a futile tune,
Turning Tangerine Adorning white veil those trees make way to the unknown, Unknown curves, unknown turns, unknown path off my own,
Wintry evening welcomes stranger shadows, They stretch pull each other, swaying gentle heads, Some glitter like the finest pearl from ocean deep, The others fade away, to the wandering oblivion,
Crawlers Fancy Black Umbrella dance, Two little croakers’ romance,
Termite Army Army of dark termites, Engulf the pale sunflower,
The Sparrow Band
In my balcony all alone,
Amidst leaf fall my mind too, prone.
A few grains in my closed hand,
I await the sounds of the Sparrow Band.
In my balcony under the sun,
I cast the grains out one by one.
They swoop down in a grey dash,
Peck at the grains, are off in a flash,