Wednesday, July 1, 2020



Mother O Mother

When I saw her only as a face,
In the cradle with blank gaze.
She let my eyes whisper at first,
With her lips that tell my heart.
To open up in each single blink,
And O ma' came out in a magic trick.
She opened me a man with leaf by leaf,
All with thankfulness and unfolded grief.

With that voice louder now everybody hears,
My dormant self-fly for its love so dear,
O mother! you made me hopeful
in my speechless days,
Your eyes smile with my illusive says.
When my mouth opens it never fails to feast.
Fill me to swoon and sleep with her accentuated breast.
Copyright 2019
Paramananda Mahanta

Snakes In The Rat Holes

To forage into the holes of the land,
I tread long miles with family and bands.
Seeking days nights for the shredded grains,
I found a shade with many to rest my train.

You all are my alike and follow my ways,
Let's follow the royal barn to find some hay.
Now snake in the corner don't come out,
No grains for children but locked to shout.

The proud mole nibbles the seeds on the road,
Follow him please he can ease our loads.
The holes are empty and harder to further,
They are all polished for the snakes living here.

Only come out and rail to our village
Our fields have grains and space for tillage.
Don't stay in for the snake and hunger
They all will swallow when you lose your gear.
Copyright 2020
Paramananda Mahanta

The Queen Returns

The Queen returns to my arms
For my new home seeking charm,
Her peace and beauty to summon
Dreams for all in this divinely land.

She is the real Queen of hearts,
Adorable to all bees and birds.
They all sing for her outspelt mirth,
In her bloom life due its birth.

She is my elegant and graceful bride,
Cuckoo and many sing her pride.
Anchoring roots and swinging branches,
Queue of plants with flowers at places.

Some feathered guests come to feast,
Passing through miles to glimpse her sight
For an invitation to procreate their chicks
Her madness for life lays playful fields.

Running river slows for frolicking beauties
Splash her water to rub their cheeks,
Her tired eyes whisper at the waving trees
Vows to serve more to green their leaves.

Birds breach her sleep by morning chirps
With fanning leaves for a morning gossip,
The smiling sun comes to lit her yard
The honeymoon of nature gets a card.
Copyright 2020
Paramananda Mahanta


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