My Poems

It's no nonsense if you rang out THE OLD With lots of feasting, funning and fanfaring, In fury of mind if you screw'd stranglehold  Round the neck of fail'd year till its dying.  No joke, if now on carcas of the Dead, You swear the new will be famously yours,  For in our will is our Lady Luck made As builds up firmly a vanquishing force. Alas, die away all on this very Day-- Our oath, our spright..., like surge of smoke after blast, As daily fiends of own do squarely flay Our life and future through the year does last. Let our gifted life deliver its due, With will to change us, do ring in THE NEW. -- N. P. SAMAL 

The old are going their life at finish line, No musing if they made it to the Stand  Or lagg'd behind those others who did shine In limelight of their unique feats and brand. Their shriveled face, hollowed eyes, fallen teeth  Let them not pull out their nerves either way-- No curse, no oath, no laughter underneath  Their tattered lips or grief on deadened eye. As final inks of tawniness fast fleeing Their hugely claimed life of immortality, They pray to get rid of dishonour of dying  And shut them out of world of mortality... They're going. Let them go wreath on for their soul. Let truth of life define us and our goal. -- N. P. SAMAL 

My eyes behold her 'cross the universe, Its forms and colors - in fiction and fact, In her as I discover its true source, Resources - things that lie and things that act : Like stars she twinkles and like moon she blooms, Like seasons she alights with fruit and flowers,  In streams she meanders, soars in flights of plumes, Settles she deep in planet's blues and bowers. But wrath if now, then tears do grab my eyes When her's leaving of me does hunt me down  As marvels of Nature with goods and glees Do turn to ashes or in tears do drown. Even so, eyes thrust out of that mortal burden  For lifeful views of her in whole of Creation. - N. P. SAMAL 

The distinction the rich do feel not Of their class from the poor (both are shut). They're in treasury, (The poor folk in penury.) And no qualm they do munch on pizza hot. The poor need not perceive any difference. They do know that their labour gives licence. But shut is the factory, And empty is the cookery; And stings them hunger with pestilence. In the middle are caught all the neutral And balanced by the viral upheaval. No desire for o'ereating No alarm for malnutritioning, All have grown unforeseenly frugal. As the viral lock-down is at rear, We do face a new public disorder : The rich dying obesed, The poor dying famish'd, The State milking the middle for repair...                                                             N. P. SAMAL

I do laugh at my life some time or other,  And 'so see on your face the kind of grin,  Of waves of scorn, and laughter I do hear If life as a joke you take on your chin. Smirks up the pauper's wryness on his dry lips  As he drags back to hovel with empty bowl Or grimace when the erstwhile model peeps  Onto her crumpled face once all did drool'.  More, can your life be grave while Saviors fall To shots of sinners or their sabotage ? Or, can there be a better satire at all Than when your child disowns your parentage ? The whole of life echoes with sounds of laughs, And clear when quiet are parties, pains, their flaps. - N. P. SAMAL 

Has love btn any two e'er been a success ? - The question you can't answer sans a doubt, For human love is anybody's guess And none does know what love is all about.  Love as a fad has fallen badly flat  The rich, the smart...all giving in to tripping Of one-to-one romantic 'applecart', For runs not long the 'thrust-effected' outing - (Can ever Siamese twins run long together?) And spent is contact of two bodies fast Affection turning into sharp disfavour Each hungering the bonding off to cast. Limiting can't be love to any two, For mental bliss comes not from bodies tied to. - N. P. SAMAL 

Each time your leg is pull'd, you drag ahead, But stop not, and each time your valued goal  Kicks you on the nose, you feel not dead, But like the landed boxer, spring from fall  Back to the bout. Your love to lord the ring Revives you fast, and thus you grow, regrow  Each time you drop; you never give up winning  However big is the loss and the blow. Unstoppable is life with fortitude  Pulling it on relentless 'long its track, As human's resilient aptitude  Delivers forth when foes do pull it back. Thus life goes on absorbing shocks and barriers  And grows more tolerable because of winners. - N. P. SAMAL