Sohan Prasad Sharma Poems

In the dream I was roaming high in the hill,
came the thunder growling to me with the chill of the rain.

I Ran up for the shade and the thunder said,
...

Pyre of wood is made where I am laid,
with wood up and below without a thread.

Bare came I and bare I go without a shred,
...

Unkempt minds catch and separate, the wings of the inspiration.
Neither feel its presence nor the fragrance that swirls as it passes by.
Hidden is the sense of perception, to some it is just for interpretation.
Some with passion of imagination pluck the flower and destroy the creation.
...

Deep in the forest of Pine the floor full of needle so soft.
It is cozy when you snug and the needle neither do punch.
Silent I stood and heard some movement the louder as it came near.
The women of the village with Doko and namlo collecting the pine (needle) .
...

The river of the tears seems never ending,
the corrupt seems never to be repenting.
Situations are told to have some new changes,
but is the same as were during the ages.
...

It was then when I was age of eleven,
a thatched roof hut in the middle of the field.
Lost in joy as it was first i enjoying,
oxen ploughing the field and it was afternoon.
...

The game that is in rhythm with the body and the time, that is what we call football.
Stamina high and the body always in ply, sweating profusely running all the time.
Up and down of that ninety by forty five, with an intention to dance with the ball.
Dancing and dribbling we reach the goal and sometimes what a luck it is a foul.
...