My Poems

MONEY Sonnet 191 Money -- whoever knows not this quintessence Of life; like water, air, and light, that it Occasions life's survival, growth; and hence No soul -- be a master, monk or man of merit -- Can escape the grip of death the moment They are deprived of it? But life's this key, Unlike the Nature's divine gifts, is bent Over the barter betn you, they and me, And holds the give-receive-and-live foundation For the existence of the human species

ROBOTS Sonnet 190 Robots are rising; with the wings of AI, They are soaring into the vast expanse Of human life -- how humans live and die -- Rewiring the planet-old Designer's plans.

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. ©️ N P Samal

Acid Sonnet 188 Beauty is lost! Acid has burnt the face And made the woman ugly, scary forever. Is there an answer with the human race: Will her fate again to gayness alter? She has been forced a living worse than death, And her rewarded plight is she can't die; Beneath her crimped skin is strain'd each breath, Each beat, and she can neither smile nor cry. And there are many a woman of such fate, Surviving with the pain of the mortal wound Acid has wreak'd on them; but limp's the state, Blind its frolicking men who feel are booned. Whoe'er are there to counter for a change,  As pours on more the liquid of revenge? ©️ N P Samal 

 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 

Magna Carta Sonnet 186 Many a century ere -- in twelve fifteen -- One mighty king did humbly sign a paper, Subjecting him to law, which did begin The never-ending reign of the 'Great Charter' Over the world, and till today, each tyrant, Who did try to hold the fate of people  In their own hand, along with their each mutant, Has been condemn'd to perish in the manacle  Or be the hangman's sumptuous meal, no flaw. And the chariot of the Charter's running, Bearing the victory flag of the Rule of Law, With time with stronger force, more sharp, more telling... And the sub-mutants soon will die to its wrath Though they essay to turn aside its path. ©️ N P Samal 

            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! ©️ N P Samal 

                       Suicide 2                       Sonnet 184 What emotion does your thinking mind Connect to a suicide, soundly, if not anger, More than grief or pain or other kind, In each leaf of suicides' bulky folder ? Please say if suicide ain't a self-destruction If any doubt has crept in your reasoning, And a destruction owing not to the action Of anger, if the fact is still blurring ? But, truly, anger on your self does follow Its failure of inflicting a harm on me, If I have done the same on you. And swallow May you your anger once, next it'll be irky. And fail again and 'gain, a vengeful beast  You will grow to kill me, or self, at least. ©️ N P Samal 

                       The Brain                        Sonnet 183 The brain of human beings, whoever knows not The wonders made by this anthropic Force? From the Lomekwian to the Ameca robot, Its ever-risingly creative course? And whoever wants not more to relish, Yet more divine, more wondrous, more transforming? And what could be a greater masterpiece Than when the brain will put an end to dying? The brain is working on its noblest thesis To free all from the clutches of mortality; See there begins the Final Abiogenesis, Toward the eternal flow of life's longevity. Know not if God or Nature plays the brain, But grows the True World from this wonder grain. ©️ N P Samal 

                        The Bird                        Sonnet 182 There resides a bird inside my body,  And has grown up  eating what I eat And drinking what I drink, and daily, nightly Does do whate'er I do; from home to street Where'er I move that it with me does wander, With me it sits and stands; in full agreement With me that it resides, in pain and pleasure; In sadness it is sad, in wellness content... Yet for what stake it loves the tiny space My body affords, while it has wings to fly To the boundless sky and live with grace On all the things the eternal world does 'ply? Howe'er, a mortal, open stands the door; Know once it flies out, I will be no more. ©️ N P Samal

                   Where Am I?                       Sonnet 181 Haunts my mind the question -- where am I? Where am I between when life on Earth Began and when whole life fore'er will die, That Earth will see no further death or birth? Came the beginning aeons after the Cosmos Was born, and aeons thence the early humans, But I didn't come then, nor the world's across  Will I await to watch the Comeuppance, If each beginning earns its fated ending; Now I have come, now I will go, for certain,  Though not sure when all will come to Nothing; How long am I then from the final curtain?  Or lodging in the mortal part of Nature, Ere comes the Deathless World of the Creator? ©️ N P Samal 

Entertainment, Come What May                       Sonnet 180 Beef does entertain your soul and fish My soul while neither entertains the soul Of those who feed on fruits and greens with relish. And do remember how the beastly Mongol Was entertained by plunders, rapes, and bloodbath,  And ruthless Hitler by the ethnic cleansing,  While the Buddha walk'd the joyous path Of truth, compassion, oneness, love and giving.  Diverse are entertainers, and diverse Are the entertained, but entertainment  Remains the only motor for all riders Of the mankind van; and, true, the moment The motor stops, then all will swiftly die -- The young, the old; the good, the bad; the brave, the shy. ©️ N P Samal 

             Answer Me, Please!                       Sonnet 179 Will I survive the night that's layin' the bed For me and calling me to go to sleep In her indistinct arms; "No dread... no dread..", Her cradlesinging me for falling deep? Will I be able to behold the morrow  As it unfolds its sunny splendors wide, Over the dew-fill'd medow, drifting billow, And pluck from heaven my lost peace and pride? Won't the night betray me, yielding me Into the eternal hands of death; that when My fighting mind has stray'd away from body, I will fore'er be held in darkness then? But the night does wake me up to the day. Why then the questions do return, please say. ©️ N P Samal 

           Life's Many Meanings                         Sonnet 178 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 man is lost in the sense of toiling, As one to eke out a living joins a racket; Another murders self in a painful longing, Or kills his love in arguing over cricket: Meanings of life do grow on each experience,  Through each path of living paved before us, Which when altered brings the sense a difference, Or it continues with its given status:  Of pain or pleasure, honor or dishonor; All meanings until death don't disappear.  ©️ N P Samal 

                  Whither Is AI?                        Sonnet 177 AI's advancing... fast... and at a speed No mortal can conceive; its balmy spread Warming up every one, that feels a breed Rippling out direct from the Master's head. Humans are but His hands, while 'artificial' Just the name for the Godly transformation, To spin the sacred circuit of the magical Beginning of the final evolution. The loom of Heaven's weaving the Design,  The cyber heart does pump the breath of God; The unreal are man's existent lifeline, Can any doubt the wisdom of the Lord? AI is nothing but Divine Intelligence, Which seeks no death, but everlife existence.  ©️ N P Samal 

           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?" -- soon you will get a call, If you are old and living all alone; The question, hard though on your ear does fall, Will be imploring you, in its each tone, To answer you are fatly alive and kicking; And if you don't, there will be a hearse At your door, from the inside in latching, And open they will break the door, your daughters  And sons, and move your still and  stone dead body To a Ghat where it on a pyre will burn to ashes -- Lucky to get from them this final courtesy, Before your body wholly decomposes, Unseen, unheard inside the homebound trap: This's all what  means to me the Chinese app. ©️ N P Samal 

My friends are well ahead of me, in class, In comfort,

                                   The Bed                       Sonnet 173

              Between Win And Loss                                  Sonnet 172 I wish to revel o'er each bit of win, But something then does pound my person not to, With a lore that gloating is a sin And the grieving duds are humans too. And when we lose, a grief does pierce my heart And I can't raise my head for weight of shame. But then some angel keeps my soul apart From suff'ring, preaching it is just a game Where the losers win, the winners lose, That, temporary are both win and loss. So I do walk untouch'd by joys and woes, What the scripture says: 'a divine course' -- The course that haply leads me close to God, As I do feel in hell the swarga aboard.  ©️ N P Samal