THE THIRD IS COMING : SONNET 185

The Third Is Coming

Sonnet 185

Men did take a solemn promise on

The carcass of the First World War to bury

Wars forever dead beneath the lawn

Of order, peace, accord and prosperity,

But the Second soon did tear apart

The brittle surface of the failed promise

And with technology-augmented art

Did cause more mayhem, carnage and catastrophes.

Today each one does dread the Third in prospect,

But none does know how to avert the Coming

As the savage genes have held the intellect

Inside the heavy cell of The Netherworld's king.

This time, beware, The War is with the Doomsday.

Stop it if you can, or call God, if He may!

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KISS ME, PLEASE!

Woo-hoo...! Kisss you...u...u...u...??? Oh, I'm being frenzical !!! My slavering tongue is jerking fast And my quivering lips are pouting out With booms of kisses in the air -- Ummah...! Ummah...! Ummah...! Just yesterday, an okay got my promise. Today is the chance no way to miss. And ready is my basket with pecks, Lip-locks, French kisses, and other varieties... I'm also ready for the lizard kiss, And the kiss of the Spider man... And I'm sure I won't beg like Big B -- (Juma, chumma de de chumma...), This is my right to kiss I earn'd this week. I shall kiss like one Dhoom 2's Hritthik-Aash's, Although I envy Emraan's 'Murderous' thriller kiss... I'm ready with my balmy lips, Strawberry flavour'd, To be the biggest smoocher Of do hazaar chhabees... And I have hidden the cracks On my wintry lips To save from rashes My Valentine's softy cheeks... Well with flushed up teeth, With cleaned up tongue, With exotic ...

THE CHILDREN OF GAZA

The Children Of Gaza 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 frozen, 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 the war zone. 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 BATHROOM SINGER : SONNET 176

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

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