My Poems

The soul is blithely corrupted, bemused And face is curiously blue beneath The mask of learned mien of moral breadth While character cuddles nudity, amused. Lures of progressivistic artifice Have cast a spell with lucid touch and feel That's so enamouring to sense appeal, So urging a pleasure of self-sacrifice. Paraded are the ancient vagaries From walls of Khajuraho and Konark To fads of the modern man and the monarch; Renown'd are nudism and its votaries. The screens, the boards, the bills, the carved relics, All ads and arts by creative freedom milk The hidden instinct with con men and their ilk, As drape the low-cuts and see-through fabrics. The wisdom has no voice of sense to exude Through system of the money syndicates; The humans grow all lustful like the primates As by the day the culture goes more nude. The Neoliths gone age ago now return As clothes that have graced ...

The question 'sounds deep, And permeates through Nation's  each citizenship A seething anguish  Over the loosing of the noose with greasy leash. The extreme of violence Chills down the spine of humans as they mortally blench While slips the crooks free Through loopholes of misplaced morals and fickle decree. Insufferably The claws of the laws repeat the slips by impotent plea. Here beasts roar out laughs O'er dim decries and downcast cries of human gaffs. Unsolved conundrum Of dated annals of crime controls replay the syndrome While quieten'd Nation Wait and watch the un-'due process' with weird expectation. And in the forced lull, A painful vibration of doubt torments the skull - If frustrating course Of 'trial and tribulation' won't end with final recourse !!!                                 -- N P SAMAL

Beating his chest on swell with  indestructible pride, With thumping arms of skills, and feats  the world astride, The victor condemn'd the mass disarm'd,  defeated, crush'd - All features, fun, future to  subjugation lost. No notice of afflictions took  the autocrat, In strongest blows of pain shook not  his stubborn heart; All powerful was he with henchmen,  tricks, and arms, Unrivalled, unopposed of the acts  and wicked farms. Confined were destinies and lives  to decimation Under the pedestal of mass-  exploitation On which flourish'd the despot with  harlots and loots. If only immortal being among  all mortal brutes ! Invincible was the tyrant by wind,  water and fire, His permission if granted not,  none could respire; If wish'd he, shook the leaves, suckled  the cow her calf, And when in wrath, would corpses fall  beneath his laugh. Resign'd, the wretched men lay to  the stat...

I see the solar sky in the radiance  of red, And see the lunar sky in the cerulean  of blue -- One by the brush of the sun, One by the beams of the moon; One with commands of force, One with controls of peace -- And see they hug each other A dozen times a year... They are the same Eesha, They are the same Eshwar. Each is in different colour, Each is with different ardour, And they hug each other, Each being absorb'd into the other For the celestial splendour, Directed at the Earth  For the Transcendental Pleasure: A hug for peace. A hug for truth. A hug for haleness... On this Hug Day, let's hug, cuddle, embrace, Nestled together to dissolve our difference Into the Nature's benevolent oneness... For the hug to be immortal,  Let's imbue in our hug true love and affection And sacrifice for each other, Embedded purely into the Sublime Union...                             ...

Woo-hoo...! Kisss you...u...u...u...??? Oh, I'm being frenzical !!! My slavering tongue is jerking fast And my quivering lips are pouting out With booms of kisses in the air -- Ummah...! Ummah...! Ummah...! Just yesterday, an okay got my promise. Today is the chance no way to miss. And ready is my basket with pecks, Lip-locks, French kisses, and other varieties... I'm also ready for the lizard kiss, And the kiss of the Spider man... And I'm sure I won't beg like Big B (Juma, chumma de de chumma...), This is my right to kiss I earn'd this week. I shall kiss like one Dhoom 2's Hritthik-Aash's, Although I envy Emraan's 'Murderous' thriller kiss... I'm ready with my balmy lips, Strawberry flavour'd,  To be the biggest smoocher  Of do hazaar pachchees... And I have hidden the cracks  On my wintry lips  To save from rashes My Valentine's softy cheeks... Well with flushed up teeth, With cleaned up tongue, With exotic mo...

The eternal Ganga of love and truth  solemnly flows intense promise inherent in,  with ripples of serenity and depths of purity... And she flows, from the Himalay's heaven-high brows, meandering down the highs and lows, by meads, farms and fallows, with many glories and glows, for peace and prosperity, for the sake of humanity,  and gets united with the ocean  of divine piety... And, on the other, the Promise Day's rut-soaked love  does flow rash  through music, drinks and dance, by the modernity's raunchy romance,  and leaves behind myriad wastes  of the Fad's extravagance  with the promises crafty and false and love sans constance: The promiser knows not what  to promise. The promisee knows not what  is promise. They know that the promise  is not a promise. So they demand or commit not  a promise. So they just make promise and  break promise. On the Promise Day, all they do is make compromis...

"Here's a bear to shoot!", Gestured the Guv at Theodre. But the gracious President shot but The 'foul play', and released  The captive bear... Thus got we the ubiquitous Teddy -- The metamorphosed bear Stuffed with all virtues of love -- That, now, lives for only one day a year... And today, therefore, a Teddy for love And love for the Teddy -- The resurrected creature  Which had been guillotined For just one day shy of a year... And today, It plays with utmost rapture Snuggled up in the arms of the lovers... Alas! The poor Teddy knows not that At the fall of the night, Behind the glows of the city lights, That it will slip from the love's fleshly flight, That it will be thrown out of the sight  To be niched as a spent meme  Of the licentious lovesters To witness that  True love did not exist...                                    - - N P SAMAL

Wow, chocolates...!! What a flavour for the season mates! Wah, that age-old aphrodisiac, Aristocratic cocoa! That deliquesce delicacy inside exotic wrappers -- KitKat's, Mars Bar's, Bournvile's, Cadbury's, and many others... But only Pan Pasand's half-a-rupee candies to our honour  in the erstwhile indigenous India. Yet, that time, they were all flair  and flavour... And on a salient day  I could manage to get one from the village store. And that nut-size candy really did wonder being fifty-fifty between me and  my adolescent lover, that sealed our love  till she did share a KitKat  with a boy in Bhubaneswar... So dear, do put your Valentine in a strongly choco-filled bar,  because behind you  are lurking valorous Casanovas  with flavorous aphrodisiacs  in their adrenaline  for the libidinous ambush and adventure... -- N. P. SAMAL  

The day is to propose. But what? And why?... Oh, the borrow'd day's peculiar pose! Propose did I love just yesterday. With a rose. The red red rose... Yes, that garden-fresh rose, That sweet-smelling rose, That succulent rose, perfectly mellow, With which I did propose. That was my sheer proclamation of love. And I did swear love in God's name. That was my heart's profound utterance... Why to propose again? What, other than love, to propose? I did the both a day before. Then? Will I propose to another? The same way? Or the same one differently? Will I propose in Sahrukh's DDLJ style? Or Viru's Shollay style? Well, style done, what then? Decent? Or indecent? No, I can't think of an indecent proposal. I am resolved to make my love  platonic, immortal... Yet, I can't see If I am at all to propose. Is it the same Valentine in a different park, Or a different Valentine in the same park? Then...?  Hotel? Motel? Cinema? But they are over...

                               Posturing his body                       In a prayerful genuflection,                                 Out held a rose                           His Majesty Saha Jahan                           And with utmost care                                       Planted it                            In the cheery hands                          Of Her Grace Mumtaz,         ...