My Poems

I am at sixty now and life doesn't mean The same what it did mean when I was fifty, And moving farther backward, into a teen, I find each other meaning there is empty. Yet while one teen is lost in sense of eating  Non-stop, or learning how to master cricket; Another kills self if denied of smartphone using, Or to eke out a living joins a racket. Meanings of life are what

AI's advancing... fast... and at a speed No sound or light can match; its blanket spread Is reaching 

           The Bathroom Singer                        Sonnet 176 From the bathroom comes the voice and plays Around in many a number, gently touching Each lucky soul -- from youth to elder age -- With its enchanting notes of love and longing... But the singer wishes for no credit;  No listeners he does think to entertain, But him, alone, alone to suck each beat, Each tone, each pitch, each rhythm, each refrain, As the showery bathroom's walls replay His romantic, lovey-dovey numbers In the quiet hours each morn, each day In his cube-size happy universe... I doubt the man's self-entertaining soul If to amuse him, he has none in the Whole. ©️ N P Samal 

Are You Dead? Sonnet 175 "Are you dead? -- moves the app