Death is deathless! Ruthless! Death never dies,
Death has no destruction and suffers from no maladies.
He is stringent, merciless! Does not show any bonhomie,
He, at times, is our friend and again an austere enemy.
We know man is mortal! Yet we do get fear,
We don't want to face him now and never.
We have a dream to enjoy life as long as possible with mighty powers,
But do forget we aren't angels, we are two mortal hours.
Death becomes a friend when someone lost strength of endurance,
For the sufferings of incurable ailment, having no life assurance.
Death is never be a friend but foe when someone plays having bloom in chest,
All on a sudden he appears with his two fiery wings to make him arrest.
We like or dislike, for you there is panic,
Everyone has to embrace death even having a blessing of good physique.
No remission, no recantation, no consideration! Only its cruel application,
In a rain or shine, death comes and will come in expectation or frustration.
But yet I salute you dear friend! You never make any disparity,
The audacious, ferocious, imposter and people in humbler walks of life get same opportunity.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Under a Torn Umbrella
PoetryMan is for man - this is an old slogan today. It has lost its uniqueness for the cause of self-centred mentality. Now we cannot hear the chorus songs of unity. Rather the sound of cacophony always do disturb our hearing organ by imposing acute dispa...