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(Thrissur/Vijayawada)

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WHEN I BREATHE MY LAST

When I breathe my last
I wish if an angel were to take me upwards
Unto the skies beyond which I had never seen when alive
And then into the Abode of God who would wait for me too.

When I reach His abode at last
I wish if He were to welcome me unto that Eternity
Which I had never craved for when alive
And I would enter it for once and for just a while.

There if I were to meet my long lost mother,
I would first suck from her breast that milk of love
There if I were to meet my father next
I would make his weak frame strong and then blacken his hair.

There if I were to see my friends who died before me,
I would play with them and laugh till He closed his ears
There I would swim in the river of tears of joy shed by all
And there I would Baptise God in the River of Knowledge.

If I were to be the teacher of His for a little while,
I would teach Him how to love the mortals living down for a change
If He were to be a good Boy, I would teach Him to listen
And unto His ears I shall whisper the tales of woes infinite.

Bishops and Sages would frown at me, I would not care
Mullahs and Gurus would laugh at me, I would just smile back,
Peasants and Poets would close their ears and I would my eyes
I had had enough of them when alive, not anymore shall I need them.

If He were to do well, I will give Him notes
They will include no Commandments but a few instructions
My notes will sharpen His eyes and enlighten His spirit
And then will He smile at me and the cosmic spaces will dance,

God would then dismantle His abode for ever!
And His Eleventh Commandment will be given to all the inmates.
That will be to return to the new Earth to live further
And He would be there in His new abode, nay our abode.

He would right all the wrongs since the Creation,
He would respond to prayers heard and anguish unheard
He would appear across the West and the East and on the far off islands in one form
And He would shed the tears after the real Work was done.

If He were to ask me ever, how I ever felt about Him then
I would tell Him that the First Prodigal Father had returned
To our home of many fathers and He would call me naughty
And there will bloom in the sky a million stars to smile afresh.

But when I breathe my last
I am afraid with a few tears shed over my corpse
I shall just be lamented by two and a score persons
And then shall I end my journey on a pyre!

Submitted: Friday, November 15, 2013
Edited: Friday, November 15, 2013


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is my ultimate poem on a hypothetical matter of serious concerns. Please note that its merits, if any and demerits, even if they are many are to be attributed to the sensitivity of the concept and not me..

Comments about this poem (A LITTLE TEACHER by M.D Dinesh Nair )

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  • * Sunprincess * (12/25/2013 4:06:00 PM)

    this is an incredible piece of art...I very much enjoyed this one...
    thanks for sharing this wonderful write..

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  • Rubab Atwal (12/8/2013 6:32:00 AM)

    its an excellent poem, enjoyed it.

  • Aftab Alam Khursheed (11/29/2013 9:20:00 PM)

    WHEN I BREATHE MY LAST by M.D Dinesh Nair in this poem poem has has narrated his desire and the desire is universal. in fact human quest after death is heaven (Swarg) but poets desire to be a baby to suck the nectar of life and fathers hair black since a person is a baby sucking must be mother a young and accordingly father and again Riligious person they will frown why? we have answer and we see and watch if a man thinks or tried ma be above the priest MAN HIMSELF IS THE PRIEST A lovely desire through death to us a well writ poem of guidance and a desire to be thank you Dinesh sir lovely a pilosophy of our desire 10

  • Dinesh Nair (11/27/2013 10:18:00 AM)

    He will be OUR GOD [ of all mortals] and I elevate Him not for me sir, it is for all of us and even if any one does not need to have such a God by him, let him be with the Bishops, the Mullahs and the Sages.
    Thank you Chawlaji for the interesting note..
    God, are you listening? All are discussing my poem on you.

  • Om Chawla (11/23/2013 1:15:00 AM)

    Very interesting write.
    And there I would Baptise God in the River of Knowledge' and thus you would chisel the God according to your understanding. Wont He then be your God?
    By the way, are we not always thinking of human God or God of humans? What if other millions of species were able to verbalise their predicament and were to create a God of their own.
    A good write inspite of my above remarks.

  • Heather Wilkins (11/21/2013 5:09:00 PM)

    beautiful write. When I breathe my last breathe I pray to be caught up in the arms of angels and taken to meet with my departed family.

  • Geetha Jayakumar (11/21/2013 2:33:00 AM)

    I would Baptise God in the River of Knowledge.....
    I were to be the teacher of His for a little while.......
    He would shed the tears after the real Work was done......

    Sir, I was just wondering if we could do so much in heaven, which we couldn't do in earth...
    Poem filled with sense of humour and hypothetical too...
    Enjoyed the write.

  • Valerie Dohren (11/19/2013 1:55:00 PM)

    If there was a God, He would have a great deal to answer to, and I would be front of the queue. But I do not believe in an objective God, only the one which is our higher self. Interesting write Dinesh, providing much food for thought.

  • Kavya . (11/18/2013 1:52:00 AM)

    amazing poem with a sense of humour too..........i was literally visualizing and smiling while reading the below lines: -)

    Bishops and Sages would frown at me, I would not care
    Mullahs and Gurus would laugh at me, I would just smile back,
    Peasants and Poets would close their ears and I would my eyes
    I had had enough of them when alive, not anymore shall I need them.

    a v nice wish Sir, yes we have so many things in mind to be corrected and narrated when we reach that ultimate destination of our lifes journey. But sadly, though we wont remember all this when will reach there, as it would a totally different stage for us, and if reincarnation is true, our dear ones who have already perished before us would have reborn somewhere with a new face: -)
    thoroughly njoijed the poem Sir

  • Tirupathi Chandrupatla (11/17/2013 6:52:00 AM)

    Hypothetical you say, yet you give a serious thought. Nice poem to ponder. Thank you.

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