WHEN I TOOK THE SWORD IN MY HAND

When I did take the sword in my own hand,
The whole of history came crashing down on me--
Many a victory glorious and grand-- and
In all it counted if the victor I'd be.

The sword of the Sultan whereon the legend lies:
Behead would he at each wave numberless foes;

This sword of him with which he'd terrorize
And sail his flag of fame down the gory flows.

The razor edge the sword so grand it had,
Across its length endless that ran;
The girth, the mass, the weight all heavy n hard,
Same like the absolute clout of the Sultan.

Bright did shine the sword of custody and care;
Of violence, oppression, and revenge,
The tales of triumphs historically rare;
That fill'd my being with force all huge n strange.

And proudly I did lift the champion sword,
With grit and nerve; in the Terminator's rage,
I aim'd to slice the earth (its corrupt horde)
For robbing the poor of their own privilege.

But brandish could I not the sword for long;
The weapon, lazy down the scruples of time,
Attrition'd me to surrender, and 'mong

The splendors leave did I the relic of crime...

-- N P SAMAL

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TELL ME NOT

Tell Me Not Tell me not I was once a lad; An open sky that I once had, That offered me untold delight And lit my spirit day and night. Remind me not the days and nights That told me tales and flew my kites; Many a game that I did play With heart and soul unleashed and gay. Jog not my memory I once sailed Alone for miles and there beheld On either side, along the inlet, Many a willow and flowery thicket. Bring me not back the rights all lost, All things that came by free of cost; Affection, love, all poured on me, Even when I was wilful, naughty. I'm in my time, leave me to suffer From weakness, bloating, bugs, whatever: Let me be in my dying yard; But tell not I was once a lad. -- N P Samal

THE RETURN : RHYME 100

Infants gambol about their home With blooms and toys, But they return to mom's bosom For the real joys. Children frolic about the streams, In meads and hedges, But to their home they return for Their real flowerage. Youths do rush about crazy for World's whole treasure, But they return for real living To own life and career. Adults get sunk into the labour With dedication, But this's the return to raise well Their own children. The old trudge about the yard Of their nursing shed, But lastly they return for rest To their death bed. -- N. P. SAMAL

MAMA'S FRIENDS GO TO SCHOOL : RHYME 90

Mama says 'No!' to monkey who wants To go to her school, The monkey gets piqued and makes 'Growl, growl, growl!'. Mama says 'No!' to squirrel who wants To go to her school, The squirrel gets piqued and makes 'Growl, growl, growl!'. Mama says 'No!' to parrot who wants To go to her school, The parrot gets piqued and makes 'Growl, growl, growl!'. Mama says 'No!' to sparrow who wants To go to her school, The sparrow gets piqued and makes 'Growl, growl, growl!'. But all her friends do go behind her As she leaves home, And look at her through the window From outside the classroom. Mama angrily tells them to go back From her school, But they get piqued and make 'Growl, growl, growl!'. - N P SAMAL

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