Ganesh Prasad's Blog

Tale of a swallow :: Acrostic T o see that swallow in the sky I peep A nd count my shallow breaths, seeking peace in L oneliness-hollow like this ocean, deep. E stranged insides burn of a pirate's sin. O n and on I sail; swallow leaves his nest. F ear of a moment when its beats will cease: A heart beneath a swallow branded chest. S wallow does come back; miles to home decrease. W hen spring steps in with flowers in those trees A nd dry leaves on that dirty dusty road L eading to my shack, I do sleep with ease- L onesome my death bed, ocean my abode. O ver oceans my soul will linger on, W hether I come back or forever gone. NOTE: Sighting of swallows in the sky is believed to be a good omen among sailors. When swallows are sighted in the sky, sailors become hopeful that there may be an island nearby. Here the old pirate peeps for a glimpse of a swallow in the sky from his death bed, longing for his home. Again, sailors usually make swallow tattoos on their chests on covering every...

A fallen dry leaf hits the cracking drier earth-- Summer's on its way. A goer sits down beneath a banyan tree, exhausted with thirst. Who's chirping sweetly? Is it a mirage of bliss-- I heard... I beheld. You're stepping away. Rains, winters and springs are gone-- Summer's on its way...

A fox septet is a poem of thirteen lines with syllabic pattern 3,5,7,9,7,5,3,5,7,9,7,5,3. To make it more difficult I've written my fox septet as a palindrome, i.e. it reads the same on inversion. :-) You, in voids of stories untold, sing poems and ballads of truth- heartless and rough. You endure feelings, internal strives during hours dark living in nothingness. In living dark hours during strives, internal feelings endure you-rough and heartless. Truth of ballads and poems sing untold stories of voids in you.

{ This is the toughest poetic form, I have ever encountered. The rule is to write a poem where 1st and last letters of each line should read the title of the poem. To make it more challanging I kept my lines limited to ten syllables, though the last line is of seventeen syllables. I am glad that I finally managed to write a meaningful poem in this form.}  A sky, that had been spreading blue aur a , T urned violet, then black, darkness was at bes t . A gain thou wrote poems, thou sat with a cup of te a D riving thy mind cart in a land, dusk cla d . U topia of thy dreams amazed tho u , S lowly nudged thy eyes into deepest thought s . K nots of long strings of thoughts unfurled that dus k . Y ou saw gone days flashing, thy yesterda y . R inging in thy ears, thy pasts sang a choi r . O n and on thou inked thy thoughts, thy pains to o . A nd then thou felt the delight of nostalgi a . D usk became night... Road of mind ended... Many words left uninked...unsai d . w...

To the slippery desk of  Mr. Princi B.J.B. Junior College   Bhubaneswar  Khurdha  Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Princi. Happy new year belated. In fact, I could have wished you on the 1st day itself, but I forgot. Today somehow I manged to remember  that you still exist in this universe.  So have a nice (year-11days) ahead.  I don't think you have forgotten me,  your well wisher student, in your words a nightmare , so soon. You can ask me again, like you did last time when I was wishing you 'HAPPIE HOLI' repeatedly for 3 days, that " Do we have aquintance?". I would like to say yes and remind you that you had recognised my voice in your high office just after my exams were over.  I give you the liberty, in fact you do not deserve but I am kind enough to give, to call me and blame me in  your hitherto jovially cold voice  for wishing you happie new year.  And if you do not like a good wish from me on this new year, i know you do n...

The tawny leaf, shaded with dusts of lust Parts from the crinkly stem, descends with shame. Veiling disgraced sobs, angst and pains unnamed Falls from lofty crest, betraying cold wind gusts Kisses river’s surface- mirage of trust. The river, sinuous, lures leaves from the stem. Poor leaves fall like feeble flies in the flame In swirling undertow, airy homes lost. River’s heart, hidden, lined with vanity Treats him with fake love and false sympathy. Devours his tears, sobs showing forged empathy. Then she flows on feeding her gravity. For ripples may form with touch of dry leaf The river flows on with no woe no grief.