My Poems

Are You Dead? Sonnet 175

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 

                 The Children Of Gaza                               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, no clouds, But fire and fire amidst engulfing smoke, And they are running like the Napalm girl  From Vietnam or standing frozen, 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 the war zone. 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 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