My Poems

HEALTH Sonnet 158 Ask me my choice if God or health that I Have got to pick (not both of them), no wait,  Health will I; as there is God, no lie, Where there is health; and He does hugely hate The body wherein dwell the foes of health -- Poor lifestyle, junks, narcotics, binging, languor... And who ignore their health ignore the Wealth The Divine does grant us Costly life for. Our health's a Heaven wherein mind does play Delightfully with ideas that's Creational, So we invent, progress, and change; no way Should we of health be undermining, casual... A healthy body brings forth healthy seeds Towards the Supreme Goal Creator needs. ©️ N P Samal 

                          Diwali                                  Sonnet 157 A glowy yard with joyful noises of children, In place of evening's silent scary dark, Enticed me much, and I, a toddler then, Moved with my tiny steps' each forward jerk. Out glow'd there many lamps with charmy lights, And crackers sparkling in red, green, and yellow, To fill my budding heart with all delights, As booms had mom take me away from show: DIWALI; I did later know all, by names, And many legends of this festival Of lights, when we show off the victory flames Of knowledge o'er ignorance, good o'er evil... Now...I do mean it's all but mundanely funs, A night to fete the victories of the demons. ©️ N P Samal 

          The Singing Vagabond Sometimes by a solitary road, sometimes Along a dragging street, smart thoroughfare; With many a note of rhythms, tones, and rhymes, That I do sing, my soul in light or dark bare. And my renditions haven't been heedful wandering  Into forbidden wastelands, wilds, or graveyards; And no hissing, roaring, cooing, or chirping, Of humans, animals, insects, and birds, Has shaken my songs -- in mournful elegy, Or prayerful hymn, or exultative paean -- Though none have heard me yet or seen me Singing, inside my car -- a childless man Inside the vagabond van, much sweeter home, Than mansion, that conceals my grief and gloom.  ©️ N P Samal 

                        GOD 2                               Sonnet 155 Do visit temples, other places of God And watch, there in the crowd are also sinners Who thrive amidst their sins with flair -- no odd To sound to you, as there among your neighbors Do you discover them -- while sinless many Do suffer from diseases, droughts, malnutrition,  And perish in accidents, wars..., though holy They live and pray in uttermost devotion To God. Then God ain't good or He's not present. Yet the shrines are always full of the sinless. Who knows whyever they're for Nothing bent, Whate'er they get to heal undying distress ! Is God the race's greatest hit on idea, Which aids all -- from a pauper to a mafia? ©️ N P Samal 

He was born, our country in the British grip, To a feudal lord who shower'd freedom o'er What earn'd the honor of the largest fief, His people's loving him as a God-like zamindar. And ninety years my uncle did sojourn -- On this unfairly Earth that even sends back The good; as went down the last majestic sun, Burying the whole inside a lifeless dark -- Has multiplied my grandpa's noble 'state; Not by the acreage, but by the essence  The human beings will NOT be human without: A love-truth-peace-grants-fill'd inheritance; That my nurtured-well cousins will carry from, Though dies my longing for my uncle's home.  -- N P Samal 

           When You Have None                        Sonnet 152 The eyes do look, outspread, but fail to see If mountains have terrains or wooded face, And ears do hear when sounds a bird or bee, But listen none...; obscure is world's each trace Of sight and sound, and tasteless gets each taste; Yet pain of thousand scorpions' bites can't forge More than just ripples on the voided waste Of childless life: no love; to live no urge: Life is love and love is life, the twain Do split not; if did, there's no life, no love; While best of both is won if you have children, You're stripp'd of both without the filial trove: Nothing does weigh a worth when you have none; A grain is gold if you've a daughter or son. ©️ N   P Samal

Quatrain 01: The moment Mama slips from sight, Death does knock at my shaky door; So I've tied up my daughter tight With my moments wakeful forever.