Prasanna Mishra

On the auspicious day
I also took my place
With a stoic frame of mind
Moved inch by inch
...

I am no God,
I cry when a child dies of hunger,
When a mother sells her infant to the wine merchant, I cry
I have no appetite to be God
...

Wilted leaves I knew
Do not revive
Yet I believed
When you said
...

Piercing lumps of stones
Inflict bruises
His frame aches
While the carrier moves
...

Those grains of ashes
I yearn for
On the beach
The sea breeze blew
...

Pour dear clouds
Pour, with great vengeance
I would welcome your drops
At all hours of the day
...

Sometimes
I find her
Insomniac, quiet and forlorn;
Sometimes, serene and asleep,
...

Twenty Twenty, a haiku
Written on the bat by the ball on the pitch
On floodlight
...

His quivering fingers grope
A corner of the school wall
Where unsteady fingers scribbled
Newly learnt alphabets
...

Rolling of tears
Occasionally
Looks natural
Like expected rains
...

...

...

His leader convinced him.
He dwelt in poverty
And shunned prosperity
One was virtue; the other vice.
...

when lexicon
turns inadequate
when upsurge of dreams
fails to form
...

It was laden with fruits again this year
As it was each year
Cuckoos hid behind its rich foliage again this year
And sang, as they did, each year.
...

Tell me
Would you
Ever like it
If the moon decides
...

How could it have
been otherwise?
You say the treasure
Paltry
...

I had watched her
Dancing
In the courtyard
Under the breezy autumn sky
...

Who is he
Coming so silently
Without a convoy
Without a banquet
...

The ship had left the shore
With them
...