An Elegy For Myself Poem by Spartanick Mukherjee

Dead are my eyes on the pyre ablaze,
Comes not even a tear to kiss,
Nor does any tender caress.

Alas! My love found no fruitition...

Burn I alone, all along,
The fire sighs a sullen dirge,
Mumbles away smoke in melancholy

And Muffled are all moans now,
The voices have hushed.

But smouldering still in a chill flame,
Are my bones! !
Bare and black they lie,
Burnt! !
Oh! How forceless and lifeless!

Long before death had even struck,
My heart died a silent death,
Choking in a smoke of discontentment
Died it weaving songs of the love-lorn,

And the soul is already departed,
Has absconded in disgust and shame.

Alas! My love found no fruitition.