Aniruddha Pathak | + Follow Poet |
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O Twain of Life and Death

Flame of life flutters, tide wanes sans reason, 
Death drops shutters whilst life sinks in a pit, 
The day looks dull, dark clouds when hides the sun, 
Night gets moonless, cloudy and stars are no more lit. 

Life's breathless breasts hide failing heart beneath 
As if to mask a universal truth, 
Creeping unseen, Death gnaws with gnarling teeth, 
And still, the dying life dreams of her days of youth 

And returns home carrying no suitcase 
And leaves bare hands, all unfinished hopes hemmed, 
As loveliest words get frozen on face, 
And as some rarest poems may just die un-penned. 

As some of life-long goals remain un-scored, 
As one-sided love remains mute, wordless, 
As life’s set sailed to float across un-oared 
Lo, it suffers a new sentence to sail clueless, 

Death cometh, two un-dotted times to dot, 
To bring together two random journeys, 
Sepulchral silence falls, church bells toll not, 
As the air thickens and freezes, as doth chilled breeze. 

And ye Life, like kids’ paper boats collapse, 
Mere puddle it takes to soak it and sink, 
Not a great storm to tilt as paper snaps, 
Death hassles thee O Life to kiss thy own last brink. 

Much maligned Death, thou art no enemy 
Of Life— a darling friend of so many, 
Ye walk with Life, so light thy levity, 
And yet, for such largesse, ye get not a penny! 

To thee Death, the morrow’s but next moment, 
Thine future tied on a tenuous thread, 
Ye live half-shut eyed, instant to instant, 
And still, the last goodbye of thine is such a dread! 

So, Death, feel thou firm as my fervent friend 
Not to forget, we’re a Siamese twain, 
Be my morrow till my life’s very end, 
Together die shall we as one bound by a chain. 
_______________________ 
Ode (musings) | 03.05.2012 | life, death
Note: the fourth line of each quatrain is two-syllable longer (a hexameter, with apology to Alexander Pope*).

* A needless alexandrine ends the song,
   That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length along. 
                                     - from his poem An Essay on Criticism

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