prasanna kumari
prasanna kumari Poems
Blurred letters…
Drenched in my tears are my poems
The tears washed away other things too….
The chill of pearl -diving in the summer
...
The lost smile
a magic smile as a reverie
Oh! a life full of revelry
...
a song oozing out of the myrtle leaves
mystifies the path
with a song within a song
the jasmine holding many a breath
...
Fifty suns and fifty moons
on my birthday stealthily passed
fifty clouds and thunder more
fifty lightning and my tears
...
To the hilltop
led by the sound of sunlight drawing pictures
urged by time
...
Cactus and the Desert
the cactus conspiring with sweet darkness
to weave the story of the deserted minds
...
As I walked along the path
Crushing grass under with wrath
That wanted to whisper sounds
Left unsaid beyond bounds
...
The mother sitting on the rubble haunts me to doom
A child in her lap sucking the dried-up breast fills my eyes to gloom
...
Standing on a pack of uncertainty
he stares at me with a radiant smile
he leaves the wind to wander
and the tears to dry
...
People on my left and right
Laughing with all mirth and might
Leave in me a life delight
...
The Best Poem Of prasanna kumari
(un) Beaten
Am waiting for you, my son
Between us time seems to stand still
I might have failed you, my son
Failed in transmitting love to fill
Once did tears stand like pearls
In my eyes, tenderness beamed
In my dreamy face(eyes) , a girl’s
Mirage, as wife, I a failure deemed
My mother, one for one and truly loveable
Suffering untold pain in life-giving joy
Gone now, but not gone her lullaby’s warble
I admit, ma, I am a beaten toy
My God, tender and kind, turned
His loving eyes towards me
I missed a beat, not responded
I feel a sense of failure deep within me
A teacher I am now, by chances strange
To kindle the spark of quest in you
Nay, shaped you not a burning flame-orange
Curse me not, my child, I am beaten like you
Sculptures I made with the clay of love
They turned out ugly or broke altogether
The sanctum sanctorum has no idol of love
Where I stand with my hands folded together
Offering tears of a beaten soul
Like the ripples of a smooth-flowing stream
My poems and myself have gone so far
Couldn’t you find your sweet day-dream
Reflect in my fancy’s silver-mirror for ever
Don’t you hear my silent songs
My sorrows are your sorrows too
My poems sing best of your pangs
As a poet I am not beaten true
prasanna kumari Comments
Some of your works are really great as well. =] thank you for the comments on some of my older works. I appreciate it a lot. =] bye bye
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1/22/2025 11:48:20 AM # 1.0.0
Very nice, soft and sweet.