I lived poor and died poor.
No obituary written
Nowhere a black flag fluttered
No one grieved
No bells tolled
No prayers recited,
To still my departed soul!
My body was wheeled in a hearse
With a few following
With hesitant steps
More as a custom than a gesture true
The open gates of the walled cemetery
Allowed a glimpse of the newly dug grave
In a remote corner it stood
Close to an overgrown hedge
Among many a mound
That bore no name on it
Oh, the indigent and the lonely
Are destined to huddle together
In death under the sod
With their identities merged
Into a single clan!
My body when swiftly lowered to the pit
And as everyone left to join the rage of life,
I pondered, how on this Earth
The distinctions of rank
Extend down unto dust
And follow one like a faithful mongrel
We come into the world with, nothing and we depart with nothing. Good one Valsa.
Well, I know it's fictional still the pathos filled my heart.. The last four lines spell deep philosophy! Loved your write, AS ALWAYS, VALSA!
The pit will consume the dead perhaps.. But the talking will never stop And who really dies here, leave alone the 'poor dying'? In fact the poor will die with no poem to honour them. Let living poor be honoured as Russel has rightly said, Chasity, honesty and poverty are the greatest states possible for man'. The luxury of dying has to be felt in living through each phase of death. This is a death poem remarkable for the corpse being too unlucky to be with the poet`s entity omnipresent
Thoughtful, reflective write. Much truth in your words. Glad your still with us.
I lived poor and died poor. No obituary written Nowhere a black flag fluttered No one grieved No bells tolled No prayers recited, To still my departed soul! .... touching beginning with universal truth. This beautiful poem is so didactic. Nice step.
Death and its aftermath, common thoughts of many.. O God, now that I'm one with the sod that covers me... beautifully depicted here, I also wrote something like this some time back. A poet imagines how he will be missed after death... but nothing of that sort happens, written in two parts, can't remember the title, and when,
My body when swiftly lowered to the pit And as everyone left to join the rage of life, I pondered, how on this Earth The distinctions of rank Extend down unto dust And follow one like a faithful mongrel - - -The class distinction, the difference between rich and poor has been so poignantly depicted in this poem.
Majority of us dies like this, I think it's better to live and die as an ordinary man.
My body when swiftly lowered to the pit And as everyone left to join the rage of life, I pondered, how on this Earth The distinctions of rank Extend down unto dust And follow one like a faithful mongrel... lovely theme. It is a beautiful poem though it is fictional. Interesting to read. Nice penmanship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It reminded me of Russell's obituary he wrote for himself but it became a good omen n he lived a long life...yes, it is fictional, and will remain fictional...if God's willing! ! ! stay safe! ! !