Dr. Namita Laxmi Jagaddeb ( India)

Dr. Namita Laxmi Jagaddeb ( India)
 
Dr. Namita Laxmi Jagaddeb is a lecturer in English at Mahima Degree College, Bijapali, Jharsuguda, Odisha (India).She writes poems in Odia and English and translates them into both languages. Her poems appear in State journals and International anthologies. Currently, she functions as Chief Sub-Editor of ‘Rock Pebbles’, a UGC approved Peer-Reviewed Journal of Language and Literature. She is an official member of WNWU, Kazakhstan, which conferred upon her International Diploma, ‘TEMIRQAZYQ-the Best Poet-Writer of the World, 2018’ and ‘World Laureate in Literature-2018. She has been awarded the Bharat Ratna Indira Gandhi Gold Medal for 2018 by GEPRA. She has been presenting Research Papers in National & International Seminars and Conferences in India and abroad. Recently she has received the Biyotkesh Tripathy Best Paper Award (Runners Up) in International Conference on Performing the Nation, 2019, organised by Berhampur University.
 
 
PRAYER
 
Let me pray hard, as much as I can,
for prayer is not a rite clocked to
time’s vulgarity; nor is tethered to
senseless history and its bizarre ironies.
 
My roots on earth, branches in heaven;
my trunk is bare, stand naked to sun,
wind, and rain; with four sides open,
I never mind their furies, nor
the trespassers ’vandalism.
 
Let me pray on invoking
His one or thousand names, and not relent
till my roots grope deeper and strike
the bowel of bejewelled darkness,
and my prayer is registered.
 
Let me go on praying
until my arms proliferate, and come out
shaking the kingdom of blue
with trembling buds and blossoms,
and my prayer is heard.
 
There will be then no more praying, desiring;
only standing in the witness box
to hear the judgement;
while the sun, wind, and rain would
wait upon me with baited breath
to learn my prayer.
 
 
MY RIVER
 
I can’t remember, when and how
the river slipped into me, sat prettily within,
tickling and messing around me at will;
I can’t remember, when and how
it hijacked my days and hours
into sweet captivity I like,
though feign grousing .
 
The river is not mine alone,
a whole village claims it,
for it keeps them company all the while;
reading each one’s mind, each one’s need,
blessing them for their fruits of love ,
miles of paddies and vegetables .
 
It seems not going away,
yet, moves past the fleeting twilight
far into night, searching the stars,
but never missing me, for a moment,
tickling and messing about me that I like,
though feign grousing .
 

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