Jayanta Mahapatra

(22 October 1928 - / Cuttack / India)

Jayanta Mahapatra Poems

1. Sickles 3/22/2017
2. Traveler 3/22/2017
3. Myth 3/22/2017
4. Of that Love 3/22/2017
5. Genesis 3/22/2017
6. A Grey Haze Over the Ricefields 3/22/2017
7. A Missing Person 3/22/2017
8. Twilight 12/27/2013
9. Deaths in Orissa 3/22/2017
10. Sanskrit 12/27/2013
11. The Indian Way 12/27/2013
12. The Vase 12/27/2013
13. Main Temple Street 12/27/2013
14. The Moon Moments 12/27/2013
15. Taste For Tomorrow 12/27/2013
16. The Captive Air Of Chandipur-On-Sea 12/27/2013
17. Grandfather 12/27/2013
18. Summer 12/27/2013
19. Dhauli 12/27/2013
20. A Rain Of Rites 12/27/2013
21. A Summer Poem 12/27/2013
22. Ash 3/29/2012
23. Dawn At Puri 12/27/2013
24. Freedom 3/29/2012
25. Hunger 3/29/2012
26. Her Hand 3/29/2012
Best Poem of Jayanta Mahapatra

Her Hand

The little girl's hand is made of darkness
How will I hold it?

The streetlamps hang like decapitated heads
Blood opens that terrible door between us

The wide mouth of the country is clamped in pain
while its body writhes on its bed of nails

This little girl has just her raped body
for me to reach her

The weight of my guilt is unable
to overcome my resistance to hug her

Read the full of Her Hand

A Rain Of Rites

Sometims a rain comes
slowly across the sky, that turns
upon its grey cloud, breaking away into light
before it reaches its objective.

The rain I have known and traded all this life
is thrown like kelp on the beach.
Like some shape of conscience I cannot look at,
a malignant purpose is a nun's eye.

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