The Doomed Children A Blank Verse Thundering in the sky, then rain of missiles... See how they are fleeing arms outstretched Like the broken wings of storm-hit birds, And see their faces white with fear and hunger And hear their throbbing voice of pain and loss... Over their head, the sky's no kites or clouds, But fire and fire amidst engulfing smoke, And they are running like the Napalm girl From Vietnam, or standing clueless, like The standing boy from Nagasaki, before Their elders who are whispering in fear Or staring helpless in the gauge of Death... They are the hapless children caught in war zones. They have no home, no school, no ground of freedom, But sole refugee camps and hospitals If marching death has spared them of their life. They hear not bedtime tales but sirens of death For them, the schoo...
The Feather Sonnet 171 Life is a feather, light enough for drifts -- Fast when the wind is fast, and slow when slow The wind does move; yet other times, it lifts Life to a high, then pressing 'gain to a low. Thus the waves of life with their each wavelength Adjust to whimsies of the changing weather, Too humble to withstand the weather's strength. When windless does the weather go, the feather Does lose its existence beneath the surface Of fragility, as the flights of glee Or gloom, prolonged or short, in the embrace Of Time do get absorb'd no fuss, completely, Bidding the Earth a meek but scornful goodbye. What else does life to sapiens signify? ©️ N P Samal