Prasanta Behera Blog

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

Happy Holidays! Enjoy time with your friends and family! Donate. ----------- I have listed books I read in 2017 - hopefully you will find some of them interesting.  There is one book in particular which made me think in a quite different way. Let me talk about that. THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS THE HAPPINESS OF PURSUIT Exact same words but it's a completely different way of thinking. The first line about pursuing happiness and the second is all about being happy pursuing whatever you want. The goal is not important.  We say many times, enjoy the moment, be happy, it is all about journey ... The author talks about Quests - His quest was to visit all the countries.  He has defined what should be a quest. A quest has a clear goal and specific end point. A quest presents a clear challenge - It has to be challenging enough to get out of your comfort zone. A quest requires sacrifice of some kind - something has to be given. A quest is driven by sense of...

Becoming “21” (Poem) Now that you are Twenty-one you can drink wine like anyone but that is not why we celebrate “21” It is a point where roads ahead are empty It is a point where all possibilities exist It is a point where vastness becomes reality It is a point where love comes softly It is a point where dreams become force It is a point where life becomes a racecourse It is a point where memories of past fly like a bird It is a point where we cling dearly to the feathers of the past It is a point where we stand facing each other Yes, son, you have reached that point at last. The roads not taken are to be taken The dust of old shoes is to be shaken The broken paths to be mended The silent voices need to be awakened. The inner voice of “21” will say Take me to a journey    where dreamers meet    where ideals are unchained    where courage becomes love    where love finds love    where pursuit is a joy  ...

A silence, a cross-road and a journey begins   With support of my family and friends, I got enough strength to put together the poems in a book form. Most of poems have been published in this blog over the last two years. There are some new ones also. It's available in Amazon now (Kindle Books) Mystery of Leaves: A silence, a cross-road and a journey begins I wanted to make it free but the lowest price Amazon allowed me to set was $0.99.  So, thank you if you buy a copy for yourself or for your friends or spreading the word. I will donate all proceeds to my favorite charity IASF which I have been involved since 1999. If you want to send a note/comment after reading the book, please feel free to contact me via email: mysteryofleaves@gmail.com I would like to thank many of you who have helped in providing feedback and help edit some of the materials. Finally, to all my blog readers and supporters (known and Anonymous)  - Thank you!!!