In silence, grows the moon
nimbus clouds roll the sky
goldfish in the waters
silently slip
between craigs that house oysters
silently nurturing cold moons
nimbus clouds roll the sky
goldfish in the waters
silently slip
between craigs that house oysters
silently nurturing cold moons
Red first, then the pale white of jasmine,
cotton rolls in a dispensary.
In summer, a wetness that arrives at dusk.
A moss forest, ferns old as time itself,
a sun hidden by monsoon clouds,
cotton rolls in a dispensary.
In summer, a wetness that arrives at dusk.
A moss forest, ferns old as time itself,
a sun hidden by monsoon clouds,
The bus can stop
Only if it arrived
If at all it comes,
It comes with a swollen stomach
Gasping, dripping saliva and goes away.
The village folk
Only if it arrived
If at all it comes,
It comes with a swollen stomach
Gasping, dripping saliva and goes away.
The village folk
After rumbling threats
clouds will push up flowers
we will eat for a season.
Not so far away
coal will be mined afresh by rats
for the just-elected regime,
clouds will push up flowers
we will eat for a season.
Not so far away
coal will be mined afresh by rats
for the just-elected regime,
After enduring a hundred blood tests, this time when you insert the needle, it’s not blood but a crescent moon that swells in the syringe. The stream that has silently flowed for so long, you place its slide under the microscope.
In prayer,
language of a body
puts its mind to sleep.
The most secular of all gesticulations.
Eyes shut meditatively
cloak the body with a personal silence.
Inert to priests.
language of a body
puts its mind to sleep.
The most secular of all gesticulations.
Eyes shut meditatively
cloak the body with a personal silence.
Inert to priests.
What I knew as nothingness
ought to be my God
All the work is dull and clouded today
Among those clouds I remain a cloud
I love petty remainings, deep darkness
Read me again, I’m a simple moss
ought to be my God
All the work is dull and clouded today
Among those clouds I remain a cloud
I love petty remainings, deep darkness
Read me again, I’m a simple moss
The Abandoned Cake
Mango-flavored, creamy, delicious;
wrapped in its sweetened spongy layers
A caring heart’s scintillating love.
The cake from the confectioner’s shelf
Mouth-watering sensuous irresistible
Mango-flavored, creamy, delicious;
wrapped in its sweetened spongy layers
A caring heart’s scintillating love.
The cake from the confectioner’s shelf
Mouth-watering sensuous irresistible
Sitting caused the death
Slouching in a flower Saurav has died because of its swaying
Because of startling bumblebees because of stealing the rainbow
In the fight for every inch in the sky Saurav has met his end
Saurav has met his end because of putting questions
Shivering on the rustling leaves at the height of darkness
Slouching in a flower Saurav has died because of its swaying
Because of startling bumblebees because of stealing the rainbow
In the fight for every inch in the sky Saurav has met his end
Saurav has met his end because of putting questions
Shivering on the rustling leaves at the height of darkness
On 8 April 2023, Noon: New and Selected Poems, the latest book of poems by Jayanta Mahapatra was published in Bhubaneswar. Jayanta Mahapatra, a legend of our times, is enviously active even at 95. In the book-release function, he spoke at length about the love he has been receiving from his friends and readers over a long period of time, a love that has kept him alive as a poet.
Jayanta Mahapatra Wandering Yaksha of Poetry
Who is Jayanta Mahapatra? Is he “a sacred relic growing up with the helplessness and the generous tears”?...
In the skies, full of vermillion,
Like an ascetic meditating,
A dark shape emerges slowly.
The lore has it,
Millions of years ago,
There was a volcano that threw everything up.