something to look at

 Thanks and gratitude to Poetry Review, eminent poet and literary critic ma'am Sheri M Stewart for her critical appreciation of my poem 'The Rivulet'. I am truly honoured. Sheri M. Stewart's Review of “The Rivulet” by Smruti Ranjan Mohanty  Smruti Ranjan Mohanty presents a common tale but with a unique perspective in “The Rivulet”.  This piece needs more than one reading to take in the full picture presented and capture all the subtle nuances throughout. The first five lines in the first stanza capture beautifully what being and becoming a parent can and should be.  However there is a catch.  Although I missed it in my first reading the catch appears in Line 6 of the first stanza and is explained in the 7th.  I think it is first missed because many new mothers get a bit lost in their new roles.  Being a mother is a happy and joyous thing. The second stanza caught me by suprise.  We move from what should be a picture of a complete and happy family to a man feeling alone

 A LOOK AT LIFE-157 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY Love in motion is life. If you want to live love yourself and others. Without the latter,  the former is so  incomplete  Love at rest is death You die the day you fail to love yourself. You succumb  the day you fail to reciprocate  and love your surrounding The vast universe, the ever-expanding universe  stands on bonding. It rests on love and mutual attraction  without which it will collapse in minutes  like a house of cards Love is  life For love, you are here Love gives birth Love nourishes Love sustains  For love life is so beautiful  in this beautiful earth Smruti Ranjan Mohanty© 9.8.2021 Picture-google

 SOMETHING I LOOK AT-101 BY-SMRUTI RANJAN MOHANTY                    LOVER My love!  you have never betrayed me, never you can. How can you betray someone you love, how can you part with someone deep inside, a part of your body and soul. My love! I am as I was, be happy where you are. You never need to prove your love, it is never defined in terms of  gain, pleasure and pain. Love reduced to a relationship  becomes a bondage, loses its essence and independence, finds itself in chains, bound by a thread of expectations and reciprocations. In an air of patterned behaviour, interactions, duties and obligations  love hardly finds its space. My love! marriage hardly fulfils love, rather it let it silently die. So demanding a relationship, hardly let love remain as it is, compels it to change and  undergo metamorphosis to make hundreds of compromises just to live a life and keep pace  with its changing needs. What remains is not love but something else, never love and loving, may be living a