In April (poem)

In April surprised by any old thing that should uproot itself and subvert the winter awakening to newness from sleep surprised each morning I, too, awake  words– thrown away by winds souls– slaughtered  by hatchets see—    but don’t see my heart left me— some night, long ago I wonder why in April the daffodils have … More In April (poem)

A Book Signing

I’m filled with gratitude with the opportunity to attend the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids last week. It was the first time I attended, though as I wrote recently, I wanted to attend the past two times. One of my special possessions as a result of the conference is above. I’ve had … More A Book Signing

Striped (poem)

  Striped   I choke on dust, wreckage of world, and my crushed bones of existence. Painful agonies— what breathing soul is exempt from knowing? While the world continues doubling and halving its joys and sorrows, what of souls doubled over? Lines mark days— scratches on skin. Irrational love splits_____the cosmic lie for an irrational … More Striped (poem)

The Making (A Lenten Poem)

  The Making   Scattered, broken particles must be remade after life on earth snaps, crushes each bone, sinew, and organ into first-born molecules   Dust catches in throat— chokes irrelevancy   Smeared ashes reconstruct into wooden cross beams unmade – made – remade   * © prasanta  February 2018 * * * *  

Poems by Rilke

  Piano Practice by Rainer Maria Rilke The summer hums. The afternoon fatigues; she breathed her crisp white dress distractedly and put into it that sharply etched etude her impatience for a reality that could come: tomorrow, this evening–, that perhaps was there, was just kept hidden; and at the window, tall and having everything, … More Poems by Rilke

she became silent

  Silence for too long and no no words for far too long no answering the phone (then and now) when light finally broke through escape from prison she spoke but didn’t speak unable to speak hiding away resting, recovering from a month of savagery she now cries, sleeps, heals under the sun * January … More she became silent


Some things are certain (what I know) Others uncertain (I don’t know what you’re thinking) . . . Some know how to love— (you—beautiful you—from what I perceive and believe) — and I’m certain about certain facts such as (          ) And others don’t know how to love such as (                   ) I ask– did … More certain/uncertain

Sunset (by Rilke)

  Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors which it passes to a row of ancient trees. You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth. ~Rainer Maria Rilke: Sunset        

consolation (poem)

    tell me, dear reader, what choice do i have but to remain incognito?   and to console myself with countless books, endless cups of tea, and hours and hours of writing,   and cry a little in between.   * © prasanta    december 27, 2017

december solstice (poem)

Official first day of winter– the solstice when darkness is bigger, greater, longer than the sun’s extended rays which reach my fingertips eight minutes later than when they first sizzled out of their thermogenic home This electromagnetic radiation reaches the cool blue earth invisibly touches my skin Here I sit in the chill of Cimmerian nights and … More december solstice (poem)

Thankful (poem)

What are you thankful for today? Thanksgiving is a day set aside to pause, reflect, and to give thanks to the giver of all good gifts. * for the calm within a swirling storm for abiding peace amidst wars within and without for the everpresent source of strength when I am weak for boundless hope … More Thankful (poem)

Covert (poem)

Covert   Daytime slips eventide glows purple and gold The poet writes with a covert pen Her words cloaked meanings hidden camouflaged in twilight Verses swathed in mystery in quiet unknown webspace   © prasanta  11/22/17   *  

Flames of Fall (poem)

      Flames of Fall Reds and golds dripping The equinox dance begins Flames dying on land © prasanta September 2017     “Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.” -Jim Bishop     _______________________________________________________________