Poetry: Mitra Samal

Mitra Samal

1. Abandoned Love Poems

Dedicated to the love poems found scattered on tracks of the Odisha’s tragic train accident site. 

I am the poem searching for 

my poet who is in another world,

trying to create verses.

Verses that would penetrate 

realms and reach her beloved,

hopefully still blessed with life.

I lie on the tracks of the train

crumbled, grimy, and waiting

with eternal patience that

only comes with devastation.

For some tender hands to 

pick me up and draw another

rose of peace and love,

To churn few more lines,

To rhyme few more words,

To make me come alive,

To help me find a place

in a considerate heart.

Few soiled feet walk on me,

Few wheels crush me hard.

Some click a photo of me,

They disown me like my dead poet.

What is a poem without a poet?

A bird with wings but still can’t fly.

There is hope where there is life.

Are there compelling lines that 

can even transcend death?

***

 

2. Awareness

I see past in future, shadow in light.

The door that I am banging on

may never open, yet I wait outside.

In my best dreams we are still happy

but the pleasure is always limited.

In the waves of the ocean, I see

its fathomless depth, the whirlpool

that I might never escape.

To replace thoughts is easy but to

completely banish them is gruelling.

The lanes of my mind form a

conundrum, I realise I have lost

the keys to the locks in my life.

The end of a dark tunnel might

as well be the start of another one.

To be only positive, is to be

ignorant about the dark.

Darkness exists and the very

first step is to acknowledge that.

***

 

3. Silent Reverie

Time has stood still at the corner

of the road for decades,

His daughter left and never returned.

The tree never reached for the sky,

Its branches stoop down with the

weight of unanswered questions.

A mongrel lies amidst the shoes strewn

outside the temple, whose God his

wife no longer worships fervently.

The afternoon lullaby which she sang

to an infant daughter reverberates

in the empty room, haunted by the

ghost of cheerful memories.

The house at noon casts the darkest

shadows of absence.

The swing in the courtyard, hangs by

a single grimy rope and drags itself

with one end lying loose on the ground.

Life trails few quarters to death with

every passing moment, yet a few strings

of hope remain, awaiting his daughter.

***

Bio: Mitra Samal majorly writes poems and stories. Her works have been published in various literary magazines including Poetry Society India, Kitaab, Muse India, Setu, Borderless, Madras Courier, and The Punch Magazine among others.

She is presently living in Bhubaneswar, India where she is a Software Consultant with a passion for both Technology and Literature. She is also an avid reader and an award-winning Toastmaster, who loves to speak her heart out. She can be found on Instagram as @am_mitrasamal 

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Setu, April 2024