My Poems

I find my existence in my own labour - None than me to my earning, to my yearning, To my love of enjoyment of own pleasure That I am bound - unbroken from my being.  And happy me is at peace with all around - With likeness, love, society and sprite; In fulfillment of me the whole is found Blooming, becoming, bounteous and bright. Yet when my construction is slightly shaken  By devils of damage or deprivation,  The human being in me decamps, the bane I jump on with a violent rebellion  Till I secure my form, flesh, blood and bones Or I consign my being to sins of demons. - N. P. SAMAL 

Behold I beauty of the chromatic bow -  The treaty of contrasts 'neath the blue azure, What can equate this rare majestic show  Of various colors that designs the Nature? Diversity defines the bond of Creation,  In odds are form'd the Supreme amalgam; In differences lies dynamics of Union,  Each one is part of the Eternal Spectrum.  The home is home we lovingly belong  To differences, for whole of us to survive,  Sorrows we share - gains, jobs, and joys among - With love for th' ordain'd fragments with we live. Religions, castes, classes...all differences  Like heavenly colors are links of oneness.  - N. P. SAMAL 

Life is flowing with time ceaseless ahead As its each flow encounters the strangely new; Adopt, adapt or confront them hard-headed, It in your doted form will never pass through.  No fact if you're a pro or playing about, You are floating in the ebb and flow To suffer rugged pain when dry in drought, When rain casts you out to racking alien powe(r).  Down the mainstream, or staling in backwater - By banks of sand, crag, mound or muddy mass - Is caught your life, since you were sourced out ever, Sea bound  or it ere that away will pass. Flowing is time. Do flee or fall or flow on; It's momentary - from, and back to, the Creation.  - N. P. SAMAL 

The glass taunts you with your grotesque reflection - A caricature of you that your age shows; Then rocks you down the busy morning sun When limps your shadow 'neath your very nose. The crowd once you made fun of for being aged, Now suddenly appears all young and romping  If all around you are icons of David And you're lone individual on earth ageing. An escape, or an escapade, you preach - Like documented preachers - "Life is short, That it's too false for aggrandizing outreach..." - Tears hidden - an old king on loss of his fort, His empire, his young queens, his plenteous treasures, The sun, the stars, birds and bees, fruit and flowers... - N. P. SAMAL 

Loaded with a sense of separation, Their face gets droplets of awe palpable; And when resides a thought of union, They dread denials of being responsible.  They can't pace themselves with youths running blind For 'fads of fancy' in the luring broadway - Tools and tenets left far 'way behind, They fade into the race with frantic headway.  Impulses do explode the youngs in torrent - The winning force's a deviating onrush; Have fledglings of freedom independent  Of feathers of wisdom flown ever glorious? The gap does go yet wider as to snap And youths are fear'd back into savage trap ! - N. P. SAMAL 

Supremacy of people whoe'er can alter? Whoe'er can carry the load of the masses If not Republic's Mighty Transporter  That never stops, never runs into crashes? Goes on the Journey of the Juggernaut-- Thousands of years is her progressive course-- And has destroy'd many a tyrant and despot, With their empires, by Public's Ultimate Force... Born were Apostles to the e'er-growing Axis To add to Might of Humanity's Van Of Liberty, Equality and Justice;  That from Athens, Socrates had begun. And now, we all will take Savior Republic  To model each of our children Angelic.                                                        -- N P SAMAL                                                        

I panic when droop my eyes to sleep each night If I should ne'r wake up to see next morning; Yet desperate to escape from shaming light, I do fight back to sleep no fear of dying. So what if I did die my being asleep  Ere I return to deathly wakefulness? Why live in glares with painful lasting grief? Better is to lie in comforting darkness - Forever like the numberless who've died Or die each day without being glorified souls. What if some live love, care, riches endowed? All shall be laid deep in darken'd grave holes... But hands of hope wake me up ere the dawn To win through frustrating light of the sun. - N. P. SAMAL 

The morning heaven love-struck in solar dye Bends down fondly to kiss the innocent earth And she proud of the fondness of the sky, Does offer her coy cheeks in plenteous mirth.  Then, sun and earth's emotive parting kiss O'er golden sparkles of oceanic splendour  That spreads the true union's eternal bliss Painted with natural love's twilight rapture.  But sometimes rapid come ravaging storms And ruin the meetings of beauteous Creation, More, our own sins with many corrupt terms Do damage celestial love and affection.  Yet meetings never end and end not kisses As true love ever blooms with holy incense. 

My friends have aged, so have I with them, But nor have they, nor I, why says my eye If blind to read distorted form and frame, Stubble grey and face shriveled, shrunk and dry. We stand like ageless trees, from depth of past, With branches, boughs, foliage - all evergreen; In mischiefs, jokes, chit-chats is braced each part, Years gone, same comeliness, same childhood grin. And dread the 'age-eaters' of stress, fatigue, so on To invade our company of 'elderly boys' If in the Paradise we've fallen and feed on Ambrosia of juvenile jestings and joys. Bless'd are we to be each day together, Together young will we endure forever.  - N. P. SAMAL 

Losses abound, sorrows abound, but success Has e'er remain'd for multitude too dear Which rich do amass by hook or by duress Or buy it cheap at loots robb'd of the poor. Revolutions have risen, buried then Under the treasonous graves of the crusaders; The Flag does fly gloriously in each lane In veneration of victorious looters. Saboteurs plough through plural dupes and dummies Too naive to know the play of mobocracy, That with the broken tissues of their own mummies,  Does build up the plutocrats' democracy.  Free does run the Cog of the Esoteric, With impunity crushes poor and public.                                                         -- N. P. SAMAL 

From walls of Khajurahos and Konarks, Paraded are the ancient vagaries,  To fads of modern humans and monarchs Renown'd as get nudists, their votaries.  From beaches to hot springs to spas to clubs,  Adams and Eves do proclaim sexuality,  And voyeurs throng the teeming pleasure hubs  On rise with trendy bare-all vulgarity.  The conmen mint money through creative campaign,  As screens and boards and bills sport nakedness;  But blind are we, 'so dumb, with none to complain While vanish cloths like clouds from sunniness  And pornographs do hug each dame and dude Crazy to see us nude, to show us nude. - N. P. SAMAL 

The drag of modernistic artifice  Is so enamouring to sense appeal, So urging a pleasure of self-sacrifice  Is the spell of its torrid touch and feel, That in the limelight bask the frames no robes As all do worship, love and laud the sight, While sometimes drops dead my heart, mind probes - How savage passion gets well-bred ignite! The wisdom lacks its voice to exude Against regime of money syndicates; With, by the day, the culture going more nude, The humans grow all lustful like the primates.  The Neoliths gone age ago now return,  In nakedness makes wild love a rerun.  - N. P. SAMAL 

I write an essay for one word she sends And a drop of her love does create an ocean  Of love in me, and my wait never ends  Hard though my prayer fetches her return.  Then jerks me up my phone with midnight call, 'What're you doing?' Before I make my babbles right,  She taunts and giggles calling me a 'pagal' And snaps the line with the parting shot - 'Good night'... Her mischief tickles me more than it does torment Though unrequited goes my love and care, Though more to my woes, she n'er does relent  In teasing me on with her naughty affair.  Yet, I do find my life in her each riddle - The word, the moment, and her love albeit little.  - N. P. SAMAL 

A first each time she comes and sits close by Her delicate hand on my thigh at rest; A last each time she says a piteous 'Bye'  Taking her nestled head off my upper chest. Her sojourn blossoms with delights of smile  The like of beauty and lustre nowhere glitters, Her charming voice none else would so beguile, That her parting stirs up my woeful tears, As I kiss her hand with a drop or two Before she sinks into the unkind haze With all the splendours of the Himalayan blue, And from my forlorn soul and flooding eyes. Ensnared by the trance of infatuation,  I grope to mine the real from deep illusion.  -- N. P. SAMAL 

Fast arousing physical impulses Released the wild instinct of bestiality, The holding sentinels of human senses  Defended the refuge of morality. In between youth and aged ran my love - Passion propelling, reason controlling - In fuel of licit consciousness I drove Along least trodden path for balance struggling... On one side was the devil, God on the other - One pulling me leftward, one pulling rightward; I stood the tug ere I tumbled to former, That ruin'd forever the love of this 'nomad'. So tempting was the charm of the forbidden fruit, That I no heed did deviate from the route !! - N. P. SAMAL

Death is employed - against killing, for killing - From one to twenty, twenty to two hundred... Goes on deployment, goes on slaughtering  Unresisted, undeterred, unabated.  All by attacks, defences, counter wraths, The world is now an ultimate war zone; Pile up slain bodies, flow streams of bloodbaths  In 'butchers-all-butcher'd-all' competition.  Humans are all - who kill and who are kill'd - In different designs, for different aims With horrors of homicides thickly fill'd In combats, crusades, warfares, terror flames. Bullets do spray above, beneath bombs, landmines,  And we all are securely caught in between.  - N. P. SAMAL

My mother didn't, nor any other did, Who promised to pluck me that welkin lily, But later I forwent my mother's bid, For it was not a bloom, but my uncle only, Called Moon, in beaming colour of cream white, Who lived in cheery sky with many toys, And would alight with wings of wind some night To take me thither for avuncular joys... Though now false is each folksy lore or lyre, We idolize our mothers for the wisdom, Who show'd us dream and farm'd in us desire  To scale the humanity's second home; That, ere we lose love, lilies, life on here, Depart will we for 'Chandmama' forever... -- N P SAMAL 

In tranquil moments of the Yogic silence, I find the breath and mind of universe; And with beats of gymnastic resonance,  My organs form all-powerful Godly force. That I spread through like water,air and light - Through the inanimate and the animate; With muscles of angelic wings and spirit, I visit whole cosmos with speed and spate. When sojourn ends, out flow of me in great hunt Hatred, lust, anger, greed - all 'Yamic sins' As I step out into my daily stunt For conceit, mastery, possessions and wins. The fate of never-dying body and mind Is ground by fiendish teeth of mundane grind. - N. P. SAMAL 

Ask me if my love will immortalize me, I'll smile and quote a humor, "Humans're mortal." And ask me if timeless my love will be, I'll mimic me, "My love ain't monumental." Yet if you ask me if I'll die for love, "My love ain't selfless.", I'll no check admit; To next - if God of my love does approve,  "God and my love and soul always cohabit." If you still can't make out my love for her, Time will show you a legend or a myth; But ask me not if she loves me as much, for I'll die from laughing and before my death,  You'll find tears in my eyes all visible  And hear my gasping voice : "I'm not lovable." - N. P. SAMAL 

The past alarms me in each lonesome moment,  Recounting horrors of human-made acts : From my friends' death in a freak accident  To my teacher's in slumber by his son's bat... Fear from within, fear from outer side Does stalk our life no relent, no relief; To nowhere life does usher us to hide And bared to looming death is life's each leaf. From shelter of chanced ease, watch I in dismay  As draconian life makes each morrow harsher; With death betiding us by sudden foray, Why save, why boast of and why compete for? Subjected are we all to our own bane, As holiness and human birth go in vain. - N. P. SAMAL 

Who know not truth that one day we will die And life is more brittle than the house of cards? As bubbles grow and burst, who can defy The quirks of life or do have deathproof guards? Eternal, yet, to live does throb each heart  While death does prey on others on all sides Or when its troops ambush to drown each yacht  With body blows as destiny derides.  Lucky, the indomitable will does wonder As life does rumble roughshod over death  And many legendary relics weather  Through time's interminable deadly path. For love to live despite mortal vagaries,  Humans do make myriad immortal histories. - N. P. SAMAL 

Up heavenward held have I my sight, and ponder, "Can't I rise to the stars and pluck a lot?" That, wretched earthlings in return for honour Of me, will cuddle home, one each, of my unique stunt. But fear soon shrouds my stuck-out vissage of The Quixotic fantasy dwarfing me To humble limit of this mortal stuff, That, God of a human  I can't e'er be. In falls and bruises is written my past, For often have I jump'd for the impossible; And as I wake up ere few years to last, I know I've lost the value of th' possible.  Yet, with each passing day, more I become lame, The height of wishful hope goes higher for fame. - N. P. SAMAL 

With light and life alongside comes the morning,  But hurries past with all the spells in turn; Goes light, goes life - as Time moves past the evening - All back to darkness and same ne'er return.  In dread, I try to hold back fleeting Time, But slips it from grips of my mortal hands And moves on cutting through each block by whim And gives none a chance as it runs errands : It wounds, it heals, it makes a king of you, And then, a pauper of a king, no care; And as it gets the day change its last hue, All at the fall of the night, fall dead all bare... Spinning with vanes is Time's galloping wheel; It takes each gain, and takes each pain, with each kill. - N. P. SAMAL   

Birds are chirping gay in boughs of spring And men are splitting waves in wild excitement  No care for others in throes of fate dying  Or over patriarchs death being fiercely bent: Lost are all in worldly existence, In self-indulgence for physical pleasure; Listless are they of life's divine essence And of the inevitable, they're unaware.  That they'll soon be replaced by novel creatures; The heady birds, the hysterical men-- All transitory as mundane travellers,  But to know God's design, they're too inane; That we come, that we go, all on the trot, With God's each breath in and His each breath out. -- N. P. SAMAL