There was a time when I emitted my first cry; with my mother hoisting
in the air,
Now I lay on the forlorn ground unattended; with scores of black
crawling over my face.
There was a time when my flesh was as rubicund as the crimson rose;
innocuous saliva dribbling from my mouth,
Now I resembled a disheveled heap; with a fleet of pugnacious vultures
hovering above my head.
There was a time when I rambunctiously played with an ensemble of
toys; my elders pampering me with crusts of creamy chocolate,
Now people passing viewed me with dismay and utter repulsion;
showering rotten leftovers of food over my face.
There was a time when I used to voraciously scribble infinite lines of
literature; profoundly absorbed in composing verse every day,
Now I was strewn on the tarmac like a decayed parchment; having
all my power of envisage and perceive.
There was a time when I used to dress in ostentatious clothing;
gyrate to the tunes of blaring music,
Now I wasn't even able to hear the slightest of sound; the tiniest of
movement; with a blur of darkness camouflaging my eyes.
There was a time when I sporadically laughed and cried; easily provoked
most impeccable of joke,
Now the blood seemed to have frozen in my veins; and the contours of my
had gone completely lifeless.
There was a time when I used to hold the impregnable hands of my
cross the busy traffic lanes,
Now a fleet of bulky vehicles ran over my body; and I didn't shed even
There was a time I had insatiable craving for exquisite food;
longed for fried steak all day,
Now the buds of taste had shriveled on my tongue; and I had been
for several days.
There was a time when my blood was incessantly boiling in my veins;
boisterousness of youth prompting me to execute irascible decisions,
Now a series of bones protruded from my wrinkled skin; and It was
for me to raise my hands to drive away the most insipid of buzzing
There was a time when I spent each day of my life incorrigibly loving
beloved; spending marathon hours in the day nostalgically reviving our
And now I lay listless and languid on the earth; having thoroughly
worldly pleasures; waiting for the creator to grant me heaven or hell;
Nikhil Parekh's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (after death by Nikhil Parekh )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
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