Prasanta Behera Blog

Water Connection (Poem) Every three days, sprinklers work in rhythm few minutes of water to keep the plants in motion The story in my backyard is quite different the sprinklers break so often, gave up fixing them rely on the age old pipe of twists and turn water all the plants every few days in the evening sun. Unlike my front-yard, I know the plants; from big to small as I water them circling along the fence wall. The Passion flower tree has crawled all over with a canopy of flowers on the tree top The succulents are spreading fast a collection from many desert parks Squirrels seem to have taken a break, at last few Persimmons hanging for our sake! I give extra water to the flowering plants where hummingbirds gather one by one amazing to see them flickering everyday visiting all the plants in their buzzing way. I notice which plants will flower soon trimming between the cycles of moon they all have voices in bare unnoticed in silence we share. I am glad that ...

Stone in Sand (Poem) Pick up the stone as you walk in the sand pick up as you try to reach the end the stones are from days of yore it may be of dinosaurs or life long before each tell a story of journeys taken some smooth and some shaken. I can not tell you which one to choose hundreds lie along the path of view some hidden and some calling for you Feel the wave in your feet feel the warmth of sunset let your shadow grow longer as you walk to your path a bit longer wondering why the stones matter. I gave you two stones long before when we walked together on the beach you did not know the journey it had taken you were too young to think for a second. you threw one into the ocean gave me other to do the same I told you it will come back when you grow up all the love contained from yesteryears I am not walking with you this time but do pick up a stone from the sand feel it; let it go back to the ocean again to come back with memories of unknown journeys I...

Lunch bag (Poem) X-men, Superman, Avengers Barbie, wonder-women, Iron-men Capt. America, Lilo and Elastigirl. Rows and rows of kids with lunch bags walking, giggling and laughing some in excitement with new friends some not sure why summer came to an end. I watched from my car at the stop kids are walking one by one non-stop some students are carrying the lunch bag for some, the grand-parents are holding like a mighty weapon along with the back-pack for some parents, a tussle  brewing to hand that lunch bag the kid is hesitating the face of the kid tells the story an ugly lunch bag, even I would not like to carry. It was not long ago, I was packing lunch Bagel bites, PBJ, apple, go-gurt and imaginations First few years, the  lunch bag had characters after that , they said, “ Dad, I have grown up. I am not a kid anymore. You need to up your creative game some more." So, I packed the  lunch in a brown  paper bag so that they can keep ins...

Hike to Mt Whitney (Oct 3 - Oct 6, 2018) Mt Whitney is the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States (14,500 feet). Alaska has taller mountains.  As part of my journey, I decided to do the hike (at least try). Before this, the highest mountain I had hiked was Glacier point (Yosemite National Park). I did it in my late 20's and it is only 7,200 feet high. Now I am in my 50's and so the challenge is quite on a different scale.  Mt. Whitney trail is 22 miles but steep gradient and less of oxygen and the times it takes makes it extremely challenging. It takes anywhere from 16-24 hrs for the hike. Preparation :  I joined a small hiking group (all newbies) and started hiking in Bay Area (San Jose, CA). I did few 20+ miles hike in 8-9 hrs climbing only 2,800 ft.  I had prepared as best as I can but looking back,  I did not prepared very well on two areas; a) Hiking with good enough back pack weight.  I  had only hiked around with 10 lbs at the mo...

Best Gift . What is best gift I have gotten I start to ruminate often Is it something I got or a wish in the thoughts Is it a book read over and over or written thoughts on a paper Is it the tears when I became a father or the words that were spoken in my ears Is it some memory of past like the stars some faded some brighter. I ask my shadow in twilight “What is the best gift we have shared” tell me, Oh! me and not me I am just a formless formed a thumbprint in this vast ocean I wait for the shadow to answer like a a dancer behind the curtain. Darkness swallows the light I understood my plight It is there and not there like a dancing wolf in moonlight Silence forsaken the hidden life dances in shadows unbidden Let the voice inside rise listen to it and outside be a little crazy in silence or otherwise before the darkness swallows the light. === Sept.8, 2018

Pineapple (Poem) Sitting alone in kitchen island you feel like a king unclaimed A crown on top and a flat bottom to rock your presence is felt often to all who pass by your land. The thorns and scales in your body arranged like a beautiful melody. Like pinching rains of summer I feel when I touch your armor. When I see you standing alone in the island reminds me a voice I have not forgotten She loves your sweetness like no other and I learned to love your thorns feather I laugh at my struggle with each cut I am getting better believe it or not. O! sweet king of unclaimed land Let me hear that voice again August 11, 2018 --------

After taking few packaged tours in last few years, my wife and I decided to go to Slovenia and Croatia on our own - make it bit adventurous as well as relaxing. We decided on the main places to visit and left the detailed planning to later stage (decide when we are there). I booked Airbnb - this is the first time I am using Airbnb for the whole trip. We also decided to rent a car and drive (never done that in Europe before). This was a first trip with only two of us as we became Empty-nesters (kids are in college). Most of the trips I had planned when we use to travel to kids and so I like to plan my own when possible. Why Croatia ?  My wife wanted to visit Plitvice falls   (one of her bucket list places). Plitvice falls is a UN heritage site. She likes nature, small towns and historical places than big cities. After we had planned, we are informed by our kids that there were many castles in Croatia where Game of Thrones was filmed (I have watched few seasons but not a die ...

Stranger in homeland (poem) --------------------------------------- Where are the dusts that covered the path the broken pots sprinkled like a painters art the morning smoke from the thatched huts the jingle bell of cows and goats the children who played with balls of straw the old faces who sat under the tree smoking pipe, telling stories of old and wise. All those memories of past I see no more strolling across the narrow path. The roads are cleaner no small stream to cross over the jingles are gone the children stay home alone The roots of banyan tree hangs low old faces have become ghosts no more stories to be told. An air of strangeness breaths inside no one seem notice of my stride Unlike days of yore my presence is no uproar. The faces are hidden piercing eyes gleam unbidden. How can I convince this is my  stead the dusts of old still bled I am no stranger of this realm I danced also in the summer rain. I have become a stranger. I have become to stranger of my own land to m...

Sunrise at Mt. Umunhum (Poem) Spring forward   let the clock move by an hour an unceremonious event to welcome the spring again. I stand on top of Mt. Umunhum a sacred land of long before to feel the warmth of sunrise to see the clouds before they rise. On this land stands a radar tower to watch for the invaders of war It is a place to see the unseen it is a place to connect within it is a place to listen to voices afar let the mind float in the air. The spirit of natives still vibrates the bravery of soldiers reverberates reminding time is not in clock’s hand a battle exists in all sacred land look no further than the mirror in hand. March 25, 2018

Poetic winter (Poem) I find myself in a poetic winter words come slowly than before I have listened to the waves of ocean I have walked with the trees I have climbed the mountains alone for the words which did not exits before. The sunrise and the sunset the red and yellow leaves of fall the rolling tumbleweed and the frisky squirrels the summer winds and cold winters have clenched the soul. Now, I have come down from the hill where the depth of emotions filled but as long as I can listen to the sound birds feel winds of the yellow leaves can hear the unspoken words can see the shadows of moon feel the warmth of the flickr of light I will be a poet in heart even if the words come no more! Feb 28, 2018

Persimmon Tree (Poem) In old man’s front-yard, every fall the Persimmon tree stands tall laden with fruits from top to bottom no one to pluck and hand them. I wish I could see the old man this evening to help him enjoy of his own making. I wait for him as I enjoy the sight unchained gates do not invite. like a dream in flight shadows outshine the light. I stand and stare laughing at my struggled affair of Persimmons that seem so far be it the old man’s home or in my backyard. Once in two years I wait for you but squirrels eat it before I get to you a struggle brews new techniques used to save a few but squirrels get to it no matter what I do. One day my neighbor got a cat the squirrels seem to have noticed that the squirrels still mince on the fruits from the top and leave the bottom ones for us to plop and that’s lucky break I got. ======= Jan 10, 2018