My Poems

Whoever knows not that they all came And with passing of time they all went With their acts, with their disrepute or fame Leaving all things they by their names meant? Mahatma came with torch of peace and freedom And pass'd away with the egress of time; Had come Genghiz with dreadful deaths and mayhem And perish'd into grave with cruel regime... Come the good and come the bad in turn In times conveyer course that carries all And throws them off when out they run Of their breath, their body, their relay and role. Goes on life on earth with ours living and dying  Each being a mortal link of curse or blessing. - N. P. SAMAL 

With awestruck eyes does stare about the scapegoat - Once at the butcher with his busy chopper, Then at its fellow beings who on the trot Do perish on the block but come back never.  Then looks around and sees the grins of humans, Their caressing eyes, and rid of fear it smiles back - The brainless animal - failing to mean the nuance Of human guile of 'mutton for green stack'. It's grown in their care, and protection from wild, Been fed on nutrition - from fodder to farm - That they have raised it healthy and nourished - Can it suspect amidst them any harm? Lone cynosure of greed now revels in its life Though on it turns the butcher with his knife. - N. P. SAMAL 

There grows a garden on the bed of peace Where simper merrily the blooms of love, With hearts in offer of friendship effloresce Truth and piety within and smiles above. With hums of humanity on all lips, The whole gets radiant with floral delights; In service of others where pledged are lives Stack'd up with virtues, glow'd up in divine light. And stand the blooms together proudly ever Through ruthlessness of many falls and summers,  Unhurt, unbroken they play about in cheer Through buffetings of many storms and raiders. Invincible they grow in amity, Will bloom forever they in gaiety.  - N. P. SAMAL 

Can e'er a heifer take her lover home; A pig; though he for hers does wish to leave his? Or, can the pig erase the live dichotome  And give in his his love her high-born prestige? Cries the pig as he intuits his failure Though he's forsaken poop, and lives on milk; Coz he's got the skin that'll never alter And so, he shan't defile his heifer's ilk. Though wise he thinks, his heart pines for his cow, For he finds him in her soul, pleasure and pain; Yet for her pride, he mustn't go high nor fall low May he die lone to own grief and disdain.  Yet wonders he why God gave her, then split -- The loss more painful than his life's retreat!!                                                               -- N. P. SAMAL 

Marauding march of death does trample all - The plain, the high, the low, the dense, the open - Unfailingly, instant that it does fall As lightening strikes, or trucks, or booms the gun... Death spews fire, throws waves or triggers quakes, And die 'way kings, commons, foes, Samaritans; And longer we grow, stronger havoc it rakes If comeuppance get we the wretched humans  So confused of ours being with truth or falsehood  That we do act with co-destroying insolence Nature taking its toll on ripe and crude - Yet higher by the time roused by our offence... With us evolves the incidence of Fatality  If we for death do compete with Almighty !! - N. P. SAMAL 

To boundless sea with rivers do I flow, Do glow with sun in spread of happy light Across the girth of whole surface and blow With balmy wind on endless elegant flight. I get the planet curl'd up into me  Beneath my embracing nocturnal wings, With starry eyes of the heaven I do see If life is sleeping serene in Nature's nestings...  Thus I reside, thus I abide, and wander In many forms - formless of my own form - My soul breaking free from the mortal cover As I'm absorb'd in Creator's Macrocosm.  And I feel not if I have got a birth, If someday I will leave this mortal earth.  - N. P. SAMAL 

When heart is rapturous, when mind is blameless, When thoughts that sacred go with dauntless faith, When work is watery with sunshine wishes And pollens of oneness when flies my breath; When words of virtues blow in lights of truth And waves of strength does flow my ardent will, When hymns of humanity sings my mouth In rhythmic voice and with momentous zeal; That I do dwell in paradise of peace  Where I intuit, dream up, derive and create, That I do love, do serve for common bliss With all I locate, to all I relate When lifts me up the hands of Supreme being From worldly sorrows, pains, and suffering. - N. P. SAMAL 

I have a heart no different from yours - In size, in make, in its perpetual toil And rhythms of your life when you have nerves And when in pride you swell, in pain you boil. It like yours is so soft to touch and feel - A lovely flower with spray of scented zephyr - As I behold you, your sweet eyes and smile, That it does smile in warming beats and measure.  Yet sometimes hard becomes the heart of mine - A stone that has no ears, no eyes, no senses - When I can't hear the cries of others' pain, Can't see their woes, and when fall they, I rejoice.  I know not if your heart is so obstinate,  But, honestly, this heart of mine I hate. - N. P. SAMAL 

I see a tiger tearing at the hind Of an antelope young with his cruel jaws The wretched prey looking here and there resign'd  To its fate under the man-eater's paws... Like Taimur's bone-chilling savage parade Or Hitler's exterminating of humans, The beastial violence is thickly loaded In our civilized brain and brilliance.  Can civic morals be a celebration  Of demons like Aghoris over corpses? But blood-bent mouth knows not what to relish on For self pride other than the weakling's flesh. Go on the flesh-eaters' carnal festivals. Go on the Quran-Bible-Gita's gospels.  - N. P. SAMAL 

The 'upsara' couldn't break the sage's prayer  With raunchy roars of her seductive anklets; And thunders of a thousand drums did founder To breach the soundproof ears of the demon's silence. But the drop of a pin blows me into dust Once gets sunk into quietude mind and body; Sundry cants, quarrels, curses hard do burst My head with Netherly cacophony.  And guilts and failures of my own combined  With shouts of greed from morning sun to streetlight Do batter me, as eerie moans of wind And canines chill the spine at dead of night. Grows the noise of silence by the moment  Through my patienceless search for a restful quiet. - N. P. SAMAL 

I'm worst a bloke - to feel, to look, to hear; In descent, colour, caste and in each kind... A human being of me I do abhor With all - my eyes, my ears, my heart and mind. Yet I can't live if not on garbage stacks - The civic wastes, for me, big assets' worth; And with all verve, I carry in jumbo sacks The everyday source of my life and growth. Feel not for me if you can't make me like you. Let me be with my nasty companions Midst putrid dumps from winter to the dew And die with my unheard unhappy moans, Lest, like your scraps changing form, I should be Recycled by God to be a human of me ! -N. P. SAMAL