My Poems

               The Doomed Children                                A Blank Verse Thundering in the sky, then rain of missiles... See how they are fleeing arms outstretched  Like the broken wings of storm-hit birds, And see their faces white with fear and hunger And hear their throbbing voice of pain and loss... Over their head, the sky's no kites, no clouds, But fire and fire amidst engulfing smoke, And they are running like the Napalm girl  From Vietnam or standing piteous, like The standing boy from Nagasaki, before Their elders who are whispering in fear Or staring helpless in the gauge of Death... They are the hapless children caught in war zones. They have no home, no school, no ground of freedom, But sole refugee camps and hospitals  If marching death has spared them of their life. They hear not bedtime tales but sirens of death.  For them, the...

                     The Feather                                    Sonnet 171 Life is a feather, light enough for drifts -- Fast when the wind is fast, and slow when slow The wind does move; yet other times, it lifts Life to a high, then pressing 'gain to a low. Thus the waves of life with their each wavelength Adjust to whimsies of the changing weather, Too humble to withstand the weather's strength. When windless does the weather go, the feather Does lose its existence beneath the surface  Of fragility, as the flights of glee Or gloom, prolonged or short, in the embrace Of Time do get absorb'd no fuss, completely, Bidding the Earth a meek but scornful goodbye. What else does life to sapiens signify? ©️ N P Samal 

                     The Return                                   Sonnet 170 Infants do crawl and toddle about their home,  Happy with unobstructed play with toys, But they at last return to mom's bosom, For they do find in there unblemish'd joys. They later romp as children out in streams And meads, but home where they return for flowering, And youths in career do they rest their dreams, Back from willfulness and crazy wandering, Then consign them, as adults, to labor, But thus they return to raise their children, And lastly there's the nursing shed to harbor Before the old on them does pull the curtain. Whoever we may be, we will return; This's certain, this is fast once we are born. ©️  N P Samal