prasanna kumari

prasanna kumari Poems

Am waiting for you, my son


smile caressing your lips
fondles my body in bliss

The lost smile

a magic smile as a reverie
Oh! a life full of revelry


Blurred letters…
Drenched in my tears are my poems
The tears washed away other things too….
The chill of pearl -diving in the summer

a song oozing out of the myrtle leaves
mystifies the path
with a song within a song
the jasmine holding many a breath

A lesson on ‘Grass’ I teach

Tired of bloodshed and battle

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


old age is young age
under red red flame of forest
life not a wastage

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

He sings
She sings
They both sing

A mother’s heart is always a mother’s heart

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


I loved you once, you took me in

People on my left and right
Laughing with all mirth and might
Leave in me a life delight

Drowning my sorrows in the ocean

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

Nassy Fesharaki 26 February 2014

Very nice, soft and sweet.

0 0 Reply
Isaac Ray 02 February 2007

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

0 2 Reply
Risha : Ahmed 28 September 2006

This poem is beautiful, just fantastic.

0 0 Reply

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