Sandeep Kumar Mishra

Sleep-On Sale

Every night I wander around bed- town

To buy some tranquil delights homegrown;

Dark ghostly mysteries of human life

Persuade me to escape from the day of struggle and strife.

I am eager to go that land of forgetfulness, of that unknown territory,

I track but can’t find a way to make me weary.

When unfulfilled desires hover frequently,

My fancy wide awake weaves his web brilliantly.

Sleep is a dream girl, a musk rose fragrance,

Melodies of a cookoo, the serenity of romance,

These beauties in bounty I always cherish,

But every nocturnal errand will be quite garish,

Because sleeplessness is my love interest,

Day sympathies me but nights torment.

I am impelled to sell my reluctant sleep,

If anyone is willing to buy and ready to weep



Bring Me More Pain

I want to lift the raven pal of my doomed future

To see if there is some silver line in the dark,

No, wait! I have changed my mind

 As it might show me

The coming disaster,

 I might not be able to face,

I have reconciled with my

Shattered dreams,

Broken heart,

Lonely nights,

Sullen days,

Weary body

And tortured soul,

I feel the prick of pain

In the corner of my heart

When life does not torture me



Beauty: bliss

Beauty is but bliss, an ecstasy

When life unveils her holy face;

A soft whispering, speaks in our spirit,

The eternity gazing itself in a mirror,

It glows with pure tints of varying hue;

It shall rise with the dawn from the east,

A lock of angels forever in flight;

Exulting beauty descends from centered

 And from errant sphere;

Balmy nectar glows,

Its magic spell enchants the heart.

Come! See the breezy dome of groves,

At its fountain quench the thirst

Of magic thrall



When I Breathe Last

When I breathe last,

Don’t weep at my grave or inscribe a stone

For I won’t be there;

Death is slave to the luck,

Nothing it could do;

I will change my form,

My ashes will be one with the crust of the earth,

I would revolve with its diurnal path

And be live again for forever,

Eternal I become.

For me, life would mean all that more than

If ever meant whatever,

You can afford to forget me now.



Death: A New Life

Death doesn’t have feet or form,

You can’t trace his footprint;

See its image in the mirror of vitality,

Its spirit lives in the body of life.

Death is inside the flesh,

Mount on the funeral pyre;

Feel the body fabric burning;

You are not descending into the Earth

But rising towards the Sky,

And entering into a new home,

Remember! When the Sun sets, the Moon rises.


Sandeep Kumar Mishra is an outsider artist, an International freelance writer and a lecturer in English with Masters in English Literature . He has edited a collection of poems by various poets – Pearls (2002) and written a professional guide book -How to be (2016) and a collection of poems and art – Feel My Heart (2016) .Recently his work has published  in New England Review, Classical Poets,Permafrost Journal,Human Touch Journal,Blue Mountain Review, International Times, Literary Yard, Mud Season Review,Verbal art,Stone coast Review,Indiana voice Journal,Ripen the Page, Poetry Nook, Forever Journal, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Priestess and Hierophant, Red Fez, Literary Orphan,Chiron Review,Poetry Leaves .etc. Blog-