TWO HUNDRED : SONNET 189

Two Hundred

Sonnet 189

I am writing sonnets. Fifteen more,

I will attain the summit of two hundred

And gift our country a sonneteering lore

That's never in the country been recounted.

But I have slow'd down, neath the leaden pressure

Of aging, ailings, wants that tires my body,

As each step uphill is taking longer

And for balance I am fighting shaky.

Yet I won't settle now, though my collection

Has crossed the Bard's one fifty four and left

Some of other greats behind. The fashion

Of two hundred's struck, will be well cheffed --

A record for my fellow bards to break:

A vying I'll enjoy if death doesn't wreck.

Comments

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 ...

TWENTY FIFTY : SONNET 187

Twenty Fifty Sonnet 187 Sapiens are closing in on twenty fifty, But know not what the year has kept for them; In their mind the ephemera's nest of history, So they can't see eternity's landing emblem; Nor can hear the brain's untold prediction, That life'll fore'er be rid of the grip of death. Oh, wake up for the deathless New Creation, To say goodbye to death do hold the wreath! The elixir's coat on Earth the year will lay, Whereupon one once born will live forever; The men of science are working night and day, To create the world's supremest wonder. Just stay safe till the emergence of the Fountain; If you haven't died, you WILL be young again. ©️ N P Samal

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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