Biography of Lopamudra Mishra
Lopamudra Mishra, is a budding contemporary writer.
Basically she is a poet, translator, and a short story writer.Her poems and stories reflect her love for the society. The unusual vibrancy makes her poems very appealing. She is fast emerging as a poet of sense and sensibility. She completed her master’s from Ravenshaw university and graduation from Shailabala women’s college, Cuttack.Her father was an ardent scripturient.He imbibed in her the passion to pen down her feelings in a lucid manner.
Her poems are lyrical, close to heart, soft and romantic. The meticulous flow in her rhyme magnetize the readers. Her works were widely published in many national and Inter-national journals.She is a regular blogger. She takes the images of her writing from simple every day incidents, uses metaphors and imagery to add grace in her skill of presentation. Her language is simple, easily understood by lay man, quite touching and heart rendering.Admired for powerful emotions and feelings. She wishes to use her passion of writing for the betterment of society.
Lopamudra Mishra's Works:
Rhyme of Rain
Lopamudra Mishra Poems
Holding each other's hand together and entuned in the same thought; they are on a long evening stroll. Engrossed and enjoying each other's company heartily, as if long lost friends met year after.
Knowing here the caffeine's presence I am addicted to it's flavour and essence It's aroma and taste alienates my continence Activates my relaxed nerves in opulence..
Sitting beside the roaring sea, She counts the shining splashing waves, Sparkling her memories in lackadaisical manner. Sailing together on the time’s pendulum swing,
The Oil Massage
When she soffles my tangled hairs, I could feel her warmth and love there, very tenderly her fingers move to unravel the layers, then she spill oil to massage with care.
My heart don't flutter for the sight, Of bubbles in the lagoon, I am not swayed with the silvery simmering vapour, My decision is to remain calm,
The Wooden Bench
With a twisted and scornful smile, the broken old bench near the gate greets us for a while. Its tattered limbs and discoloured face attracts everyone towards its surface. Speaks loudly the volume of by-gone stories in a beat,
Time reels snatched away innocence with its fag, Surrounded by complexities, greed n jealousy as its tags, Pride n pompous display its rags, We suffer silently maintaining slags,
Hopefully..... Hopefully we will meet in the dark firmament, Hopefully cloud ‘s conscientious shield will not obstruct our rotation, In the deepest field of vision,
Often during evening, My heart longs for cuckoo ‘s melody in the morning, The sweetness of its voice is enthralling, Captivates every earthly belongings,
My journey. My journey started from the sea, As a sailor, The under current of blue waves lures me,
When I got enough confidence, the stage was withdrawn. When I was sure of losing, I won.
Radha To Krishna
A desire to submerge In the lotus feet.. With the abundance of love A sublime dream to climb the crest of passion..
This is the day I wait year long, celebration of love and brotherhood with hay and fun sisters tie the band of love as a token, demand their presence in every forefront,
Thunder In Me.
The thunderous cloud bursts with scary lightening. The drops lose its patience now unbolting its grip falls in ambience, Earth sinks with its loud applause, Life paralysed momentarily with its sudden stroke,
Sound Of Rain
Drenched in its first shower of raindrops,
the city reawakens with a new look in the dusk hour,
the pattering rainfall erases dirt's and dusts,
cleanses the path to look a new!
The chilled and sensuous air arouses goosebumps
to gravitates us.
The pitter-patter raindrops on the window panes of the car
dances on its tunes;
The silken linen of the rain drops in the evening lights