Biography of Pradeeta Mishra
An artist of the scratch, of the earth....a poet of the beginning level, not in the competition....just in love with words and unspoken emotions....
Pradeeta Mishra Poems
Stepping on the stones, crossing the bridge, Rain drops splash on my face, I hold them in my embrace, Breathing in the green air, this earth calls me to her, I look up into the sky, he opens his arms wide,
Moment Of Shame
The green moss on the tree, feels soft under my bleeding palms, I made for it one last time, the run, a last sprint after him, My sun was hiding behind the clouds, My heart had forgotten to thump,
Walking through the darkness, my eyes fall on her, The eyes of emerald, the lips of rose, Her hair a hurricane around her, her skin, ethereal like moon’s glow, She looks up; a solitary tear laced in pain escapes her eyes,
I breathe beneath the dark waters, my lungs are full and my heart is weak, I try to fight the urge to give up; I lift my arms in despair, The faith I had was glaring at my face, profanity was its garb, Mocking me while I struggled to hold on, no choices, no option and no where to return,
The fragrance of your love wafts through the air around me, I choke on it coz I know it’s false, I know it will make me fall, I close my eyes in terror, ready to fight the clawing arms of your love, I am holding tight the past that had made me forget my pain,
The glimpse of the storm, had me frozen in the sand, I breathed in and looked at you to hold your hand, You were running away from me scared, I looked at you with a horror, naked and bared,
The Woman Who Never Loved
I am the truth made up of lies, I am a smile filled with tears, I am the pain borne in peace, I am the woman in love, who never lived.
The Old Life
The hands of the clock are moving fast, He has been waiting for the time to stop, His hands hold an ancient pen, with dried up ink, The crumpled pages of the diary have turned yellow,
What Do You Do?
When the burden of truth crashes down upon you, When you know that days to be happy are very few, When you loved someone, who loved everyone, but you, What do you do?
A Hatred For A Love
You told me that I love you and I will never leave you alone, I was a fool and waited for you, forever near the phone, You messed with my trust and you called me a traitor, But don't you remember, not me, you were the perpetrator,
The Old Life
The hands of the clock are moving fast,
He has been waiting for the time to stop,
His hands hold an ancient pen, with dried up ink,
The crumpled pages of the diary have turned yellow,
His eyes are stone behind the folds of his face, delicate and soft,
He is a writer, a singer, he is a father, he is a lover, and he is an old man,
Sitting in the corner of a white room, next to an open window, a window as old as he is, with a broken pane and eaten up wood,
He reminisces over his child