Tag: Mitra Samal

Categories
Poetry

‘Dreams are Like Stars’

Poetry by Mitra Samal

GLOW OF DARKNESS

Dreams are like stars, each one
has them on their share of the sky
Glistening and in its light
spreading an ocean of hope
They come only in the shades
of the night and in the shadow
of our thoughts
In a state that isn’t real but
has a tiny connection with
the dimensions of life
It twinkles its way into a path
that lies hidden from the conscious
mind, only to show the possibilities
shielded by the blinding light
The glaze of aristocracy 
doesn’t shine on a plebeian
An unknown path is where all 
the known paths must lead
It is what the open eyes always
fail to comprehend
The eternal glow of darkness
waiting to be discovered 


CANDLE

It’s a candle fighting against
the darkness, for the ill-fated
electric bulb that failed to glow
It’s a candle that burns every
atom in it for the mood lifting
aroma and the flicker of light
It isn’t enough to keep you warm
in the chill of winter but
glows enough to ignite your mind
in the haunting absence of light
A candle that dies with the night
Giving way to more candles that
must keep burning till the breaking
dawn, for the moon isn’t enough
and the light bulb isn’t reliable
A candle that is rumoured to
raise the dead from their grave
I write with the glowing candle
in the faint moonlight
I pray with the candle to
strengthen my devotion
A candle that made a pledge to
sacrifice till the last whit of its life

Mitra Samal writes poems and stories or memoirs. Her recent poetry book called Beginning was published in 2018. Her poems have been published in Poetry Society India, Muse India, Borderless Journal, Madras Courier, Setu, The Punch Magazine, Dissident Voice and FemAsia among others.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Categories
Poetry

Reminiscing in Verses

By Mitra Samal

Reminiscence

The wind blows bringing in the 
redolence of my land
I bow my head and pay my homage

When the Siberian cranes flutter 
their wings in winter 
I reminisce the sultry smell of our lakes

When I stretch my eyes to the 
epitaph of the ocean
I feel my country’s sands slither 
away from my fingers

When I hear the cuckoo’s enchanting song
I float dreamily to our mango gardens 
with fresh blossoms

The sweet aroma of the baked cookies in cafes
Reminds me of my mother’s petite kitchen

Oh! How it feels to be disparate from one’s native land
To be lost in a sea of strangers for what duty demands
The lakes, the trees, the sea and my share of sky
Something that was to live for and will be always to die

 
If I don’t live to grow old

If I don’t live to grow old
You will still have my verses
to trace back to the days,
we smiled despite the
summer tempest that
showered on our egos

You will still find yourself
in my words and remember
our carefree laughter from
another time that set our
moods ablaze with zest 

If I don’t live to grow old
You will still have my pages
that speak of the time we spent
together, the contentment
that is timeless, and shall
last for now and ever

You will still read between
my lines and be our dream
catcher, feel what I lived
to create and saved for
you to pursue later

If I don’t live to grow old
You will still grow old
in some corner of my book,
in the lines of my page,
in the stanzas of my poetry
and in the words of my verse

Mitra Samal mostly writes poems and occasionally pens down stories or memoirs. She is a software professional with a passion for both technology and literature. She often participates in poetry open mics. Her works have been published in various online and print media. She is also an avid reader and a Toastmaster who loves to speak her heart out.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL