Biography of Bipin Patsani
Bipin Patsani (b.1951) is an Indian English Poet from Odisha. His poems have been published in many prestigious literary journals and poetry anthologies including Indian Literature (Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi) , Indian Scholar (Raipur) , The Journal of Indian Writing in English (Gulbarga) , Chandrabhaga (Cuttack) , Kavya Bharati (Madurai) , The Brown Critique (New Delhi) , Poet (Chennai) , Poets International (Bangalore) , Metverse Muse (Visakhapatnam) , Poetcrit (Maranda) , Kafla (Chandigarh) , Bridge-in-Making (Kolkata) , Fantasy (Allahabad) , Skylark (Aligarh) , Rock Pebbles (Jajpur) , Sabd (Guwahati) , Replica (Cuttack) , Poesie India(Bhubaneswar) , Green Lotus (HOLI, BBSR) , Poetry Time, Voices (Berhampur) , Cyber Literature (Patna) , The Quest (Ranchi) , The Eternity (Jamshedpur) , The Heart Of The Millennium (Sussex, U.K.) , International Poetry (Bluffton, U.S.A) , Prophetic Voices (California, U.S.A.) , Ballads Of Our lives (ILP, U.S.A.) , Extasis Poeticos (Spain) , Perigramma (Greece) , Indo-Asian Literature (Delhi) , Indian Book Chronicle (Jaipur) , New Global Voice (Bangalore) and Explorers (Allahabad) .
His first poetry collection VOICE OF THE VALLEY was published in 1993 by Writers Workshop, Calcutta. His second collection “ANOTHER VOYAGE” and third collection HOMECOMING have been published by Wordsmith Publishers, Guwahati. He is a recipient of Michael Madhusudan Award/1996. Some of his poems have been translated into Spanish and Portuguese by Dr.Teresinka Pereira (President, IWA, U.S.A.) and Juan Torres (New York) . He has manuscripts ready for three other collections.
Bipin Patsani was born at Baratota(Badatota) , a village near Khurda in Odisha, India. He has been writing poems in English since his school days when he was a student of K.C.Vidyapith, Janla near Bhubaneswar. He studied English literature at P.N. Mahavidyalaya, Khurda and later at Ravenshaw College, Cuttack. He had been working as a teacher in Arunachal Pradesh from 1978 to 2012 and worked at Bomdila, Rupa, Kalaktang And Doimukh where he lived with his wife Manjula, two daughters Monalisa and Manisha, and son Amaresh who is hearing impaired. Now he lives with his family at his native place in Odisha, India. Contact: email@example.com
Bipin Patsani's Works:
1.Voice of The Valley, Writers Workshop, Kolkata /1993
ISBN; 81-7189-532-8(HB) , ISBN: 81-7189-533-6 (FB)
2.Another Voyage, Wordsmith Publishers, Guwahati/2010
3.Homecoming, Wordsmith Publishers, Guwahati/2010
Bipin Patsani Poems
To Be Or Not To Be Your Own Master
Spoil not your moments of bliss, Moments of peace and happiness, trying to know and measure who loves you how much,
A Tribute To My Wife, Manju
Your silent acceptance, Your tears tell everything, That you could not say through the years.
A Mother In Town
Brought to live in town With her working daughter-in-law, A mother awoke one morning And found herself surrounded with
The Song Of Love
Let us not be naive to be carried away by the rosy pictures painted of love.
As the insatiate pen of an artist Who wants to do wonders But dissatisfied with the feeling That something is missing,
How Does A Lotus Bloom?
When a poet is in anguish and agony Expressing his displeasure at home And disapproval of things around, People in the neighborhood make fun of him
The End Of Poetry
(For my toiling brothers) So long as there is life, there is goodness. There is goodness
AESTHETIC INTERCOURSE A good work of art or poem Captures the imagination
Our own most often Do us more harm Than hands foreign We so blame.
1. THE EARTH Unfold like an epic Of agony and achievements
Past Perfect And Present Indefinite
The art of living, sharing, caring for all And working together for a common goal Is the greatest art mankind must learn, If at all for its misdeeds it cares to mourn.
Poetry On Wheels
Watching the relics of the Sun Temple At Konark and rediscovering the self Is a wonderful experience. It is, as it were, enjoying the lyric grace
The Portrait Of Grandfather
(For my grandfather Sri Chaitan Patsani) Grandpa was fortunate to live the way he liked. He had no fear, no compulsion;
Missing the way in the woods I was afraid with anticipations. But now I myself am lost in its vastness, Its ferocity and loveliness in which I redeem.
As the insatiate pen of an artist
Who wants to do wonders
But dissatisfied with the feeling
That something is missing,
My fingers ache.
My fingers, which do magic to you
And warble music
In the warm receptive softness