My Poems

           The Bathroom Singer                        Sonnet 176 From the bathroom comes the voice and plays Around in many a number, gently touching Each lucky soul -- from youth to elder age -- With its enchanting notes of love and longing... But the singer wishes for no credit;  No listeners he does think to entertain, But him, alone, alone to suck each beat, Each tone, each pitch, each rhythm, each refrain, As the showery bathroom's walls replay His romantic and, too, plaintive numbers In the quiet hours each morn, each day I doubt the bard's self-entertaining soul If to amuse him, he has none in the Whole. ©️ N P Samal 

Are You Dead? Sonnet 175 "Are you dead? -- moves the app

My friends are well ahead of me, in class,

                                   The Bed                       Sonnet 173

              Between Win And Loss                                  Sonnet 172 I wish to revel o'er each bit of win, But something then does pound my person not to, With a lore that gloating is a sin And the grieving duds are humans too. And when we lose, a grief does pierce my heart And I can't raise my head for weight of shame. But then some angel keeps my soul apart From suff'ring, preaching it is just a game Where the losers win, the winners lose, That, temporary are both win and loss. So I do walk untouch'd by joys and woes, What the scripture says: 'a divine course' -- The course that haply leads me close to God, As I do feel in hell the swarga aboard.  ©️ N P Samal