Euphemism Poem by Venkateswaran Krishnan Sreenivasan

Call a spade a spade and win offence
Or clothe your words in honey in defense
Even gestures without words make much sense
But euphemism is sheer nonsense

All mortals die but sages, saints and kings
Fly to their heavenly abode on wings
Offensive epithets always sting
Euphemism is the praise you sing

Birth is adored and chanted with a hymn
Death is abhorred with a pseudonym
The sick man dies when he kicks the bucket
The moribund to heaven gets a ticket

Birthdays of savants dead or alive
We celebrate with éclat just to thrive
In this struggling world and to survive
Memories of death we seldom revive

Great men with a mission incarnate, not born
Neither do they die but reach realms unknown
To aimless mortals who are sworn
To be reborn and wander forlorn