When all the world is a giant burden,

Banerji sir, my colleague, a true SST Allen.

“Maan ki bat Modi ke Sath; rest other shun,”,

Says always my friend Banarji, never stun

Or stagger or startle, never remains barren.

Best friend who teaches Dhruvi and others Balkan,

Or India with psychology, without an apron.

Kenil, Hari, Bhavin, Shivani had some unban;

With Favourite dish of Dada, a fish; talks on Patan,

Sings hymns, buzzes about Mahakali one.

Says, “Your age is less than my profession.”

Scolds us, “Worst batch of year” – a Pun?

He is Bangali babu, wears dhoti, kurta even,

Talks about SST, and about doors wide open.

He is a Brahman, takes plausible action,

Wearing a chevron, is our Divine’s lion.

Meshwa, Diya, and Pitambar are clearly won,

With Aryan, Harsh, Nupur, Dishal and billion.

Let it be Shakespeare or Keats or Byron

He is through with all, has a great fortune.

Appreciates my Monorhyme and region

Never keeps quiet, but is pure bullion.

Dear to my students, Esha, Jeet or Rohan.

Prosper a lot is my wish, Oh! Aaron!

Trust and hope are your soldiers. Don’t let them die. Lust is your enemy, make him starve. Words are your weapons, use them with care, few at a time. And, love is the reward for this war.

-Nupur Dua

It's all in the eyes, they say
I do everything to keep yours away
I saw them tinged with love and care
But that was long ago, now we hardly stare
I cannot forget how they once cried for me
I never thought, betrayal, it would be
Beneath those eye lids
I couldn't realize, such hatred, you hid
They say, eyes never lie
But I see a final goodbye
Deep down I still know,
this, just like others, can't go
Your eyes, they are so bold
I think this time you are real cold.
And I, I just can't let go.

For the ones, for which I almost died.
Your eyes.

Much Love, Nupur.

Amit Narayan Satpathy   Poems  
Published 51  Drafts 7

Amit Narayan Satpathy now
Untitled
O the sky has filled me with light
I will fill the sky with songs
O the colours of notes
Will I cut through
The winds!
O the colours of dance
Cut through the air!
O palash,o palash
O the peaks of
The coloured colours
O you spread fire
In directions
All that are there
O the raga raginis
Of my heart
Are colored
With colorful tunes!
O in the southerly winds
The shivering flower
Forests don't stop!
O in the golden radiance
In the blue skies
The nupur of young leaves
Is heard!
O shirish,o shirish!
In the interval of gentle smiles!
You fill the airs
With your scent!
O your scent in my words
My heart pulls me there!

They’ll bury you deep,

They may boil you up too.

Time will seem not to leap,

There will be nothing for you to look up to.
You’ll be crushed under all that pressure,
Squeezing under the mighty wings of death.
Certainly not a pleasure.
Each time, running out of breath
The endeavor is no doubt, painstaking
After all, a diamond in making.

-Nupur Dua