Sonnet: When We Die
When Death has seized our earthly frame some day,
And gets our soul released, Creator-bound;
What does it matter palled or coffined, say?
No more can worldly travails ever hound.
Some get incinerated, fit, unfit;
None can prevent the Ants and Worms from work;
Or Vultures, Fishes, beasts that devour it;
No more can Death upon us again lurk.
Some mummified by years are-looked with awe;
Some dissected to show man's various parts;
Some fossilised are found when ice-does thaw;
Most go -to soil again when life departs.
When life has gone and soul has left our frame,
Nothing remains our name, fame, blame or shame.
poem by John Celes
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The Concept Of The Soul
The candle is shut and the flame is out.
The candle is left and the life has set.
Before shut, the candle must have been lit.
The unlit candle can never be shut.
The being is dead and the life is out.
The body remains lifeless and sparkles.
Does the death mean the exit of the soul?
The soul to exit, when did it enter?
Is it that the soul has entered at birth?
No, the embryo has life before the birth.
Is it that the soul has entered at zygote?
No, the sperm and the ovum have their life.
Hens lay eggs, which turn chicks; they all have life.
No stage is void for the souls to enter.
The souls are the extension of the chicks
And the chicks, the extension of the hens
The child is the offshoot of its parents,
Who in turn are of their parents and so on.
The body and the life have struck to form
A unit when the first life was born.
Death is no more than the death of a shoot.
The death of the shoot is not the death of the tree
Nor is the death of the tree the death of the seeds
Nowhere else is broken the chain of the life.
When one begets the other, the other
Is of matter and life put together.
There are no such things as soul and body
To fuse at birth and depart at death.
Germs multiply by fissions and budding
Plants diversify by seeds and cuttings.
Birds by eggs, mammals by kids, they all spread.
Germs to mankind, the life is an extension.
The soul is a single string that has run
Through all living bodies, alive or dead:
Through germs, reeds and plants, through flies, worms and prawns
Through fish, snakes and birds and through. Cows and man.
Candles and flame are not bodies and soul.
The candle is lit before it is shut.
The body is not lit with the soul
For it to be out at the time of death.
Then what is the aftermath of the death?
Isn’t that the life is soul that went out?
Yes, the life goes, the soul goes, not as a whole.
The extended part of the life/soul dies.
Should the life be the soul, then there must be
Only one soul to have come with the first life.
The whole living kingdom has evolved
From the origin of life by evolution.
The plants imbibe the inorganic salts
And grow and the animals eat the plants.
When plants and animals exhaust themselves
The worms and germs eat them and release salts.
That the soul enters the body is a myth.
That the soul exits the body is a myth.
That the liberated soul reenters
Or is redeemed of rebirth is a myth.
In every birth the soul will protrude
And on each death the protrusion is off..
It is not that there are as many souls
As there are living things born and dead.
The whole universal life is one soul
That travels through the different branches
Of the matter in growth and adoption,
And is off when the branches meet their death.
09.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Oh! Departed Soul
Oh! Departed Soul,
Look behind a while,
How quicker the sighs consumed!
How sooner dried the tears!
How avaricious are the sons and daughters,
To feast heartily the carnal needs,
Upon the wealth you left behind,
Which you earned unscrupulously,
Being heedless to death and God.
It built the high walls of hatred,
Between brothers and sisters,
It made blood white and thin,
They fight as do the vultures,
To devour the putrid flesh,
From the skeleton of carcass.
While quarreling over the shares,
They often give indignant remarks,
On you who toiled a lot the life whole.
Oh! Departed Soul,
Now you might have realized,
That the worldly riches bear shame,
In the Glorious Court,
When heaped up not righteously,
And giving the posterity good men,
Is much better than hoarding
Gold and wealth, the cause of disruption
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Frame
The frame held the ego splendidly,
with a little gold chintz around the edges.
It highlighted its excellence with flair.
Truly, I couldn't fault the fine brush work.
A splash of light here, shade there.
The ego was quite unabashed and fabulous,
it spoke, in its way, about the artist's life,
his death and all his earthly quests.
Of course the frame had a long face
and felt quite let down with all this adoration.
Like a bridesmaid at a wedding; second best.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Death without purpose
death for me I must embrace,
death for me, is a OK place,
For death waits for me with open arms,
For I have dealt death,
Death is now being dealt to me,
For I thought I had a Angel,
A savior,
The person who pick me up and gave me purpose,
A love I had thought I never imagined,
Now this is gone if you could only imagine,
You had my soul, now my soul is gone,
Who am I with out you? With out my soul?
With out you making me hole,
Now death is awaiting me with a smile,
No purpose, no love, no soul,
Life and death, death and life,
they stand side by side in the end,
For now death hands me its hand,
I don’t know who I am,
So death once again offers its hand,
Such a easy offer right at hand,
For its a easy answer,
For all I feel, death does seem the sure deal,
Sorrow, pain, heart ache, purposeless, loveless,
Hate for ones self, for all the things I have done,
This sure seems the answer,
Death looks at me with a glean in his eye,
He knows I am tempted to take the easy way out,
Is that such a terrible thing to have offered?
Do be tempted to take?
What else is there now left for me to take?
What else do I have to be taken now?
If this is the choice I make,
Don’t mourn for me for its to late,
Don t show me sympathy I have to shake,
Just let me go,
I choose this, not you, not your blame
Take my soul,
It is your, once always, and forever,
When the going gets rough,
Remember what I stood for,
For I can not stand for myself,
I can not take the this feeling I have inside,
I'm lost with out you by my side.
Will I be judged for the things I have done?
The sins I have committed?
Well in the end it really doesn't matter, now does it?
Now death is waiting patiently by my side,
Now as I lye here awake with a gentle shake,
I know what it is to have death on my side,
So now I say goodbye,
Death is taking me for a ride,
poem by John Pollock
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Psyche
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name--
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life !--For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,
And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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What did I do?
What did I do to get out of your life,
when I am in every frame of your life?
As a fetus, you kicked and turned,
I was there in that frame, carrying you.
As an infant you were fragile and helpless,
I remember I was there as well.
As an aimless toddler, before stumbling down,
the hands that carried you, were mine.
During all your school activities,
the beating heart that prayed for your success,
During minor and major exams and interviews,
the eyes that woke up before you,
Had I been there in those frame?
I was there in every frame of your life,
I will be there in every frame of my grandchildren,
If you both let.
Until then my child, explore the new things.
This poem is dedicated to the parents who miss their
children who have gone for further education, work
commitments and other reasons as well.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Beauty is according to frame
When a figure is fit to the frame
Conceived in brain, it is a beauty.
If it is a grossly unfit, it is ugly.
If it is slightly unfit, time adjudge the
frame.
16.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Death is a divorce
Death is a divorce.
The soul and the body are separated.
The soul escapes; the body decays.
Who is the cause: the soul or the body?
‘It is the body’, accuses the soul,
‘As it went unfit.’ ‘It is the soul’
Reprimands the body, ‘which found me stale.’
Who is the male: the soul or the body?
‘Male is the body’ complains the soul,
‘In whose home I entered as a bride.’
‘Male is the soul’ retorts the body,
‘Who deserted me to seek the other.’
Death is the divorce,
Where both separate.
11.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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Death death death death death death death death death death death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Colour Of Death
Death is an art, more colourfull than the blue sky
No painters and composer can frame it
Death is much softer than the flying feather
It has a sweet soft music
Only the death traveller can listen it.
Death is more natural than the life
Life makes living cry weep and scream
But death is full of peace
No fury no anger, its just sleepy
Death is not greedy and demanding like life.
Life is a basket of greeds and desires
It desires to hold everything till the last breath.
poem by Devil Poet
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The Colour Of Death
Death is an art, more colourfull than the blue sky
No painters and composer can frame it
Death is much softer than the flying feather
It has a sweet soft music
Only the death traveller can listen it.
Death is more natural than the life
Life makes living cry weep and scream
But death is full of peace
No fury no anger, its just sleepy
Death is not greedy and demanding like life.
Life is a basket of greeds and desires
It desires to hold everything till the last breath
.
I
poem by Devil Poet
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destiny
It was my destiny to die,
and no matter how much you try,
it is everyones destiny to die,
no matter old or young,
death will break the needle on which you're life is strung,
death cares not that you're in love,
death will push you death will shove,
till you're life is on the edge,
then death the sealer of you're destiny,
will steal you're soul,
and let you be,
for it truly is our destiny,
no matter how hard it is to see,
to live to die to simply be.
poem by Annabell Callest
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O Lemme Go, My Time Has Come!
O lemme go, my time has come!
I smell death somewhere lurking near;
With weakened frame, I must welcome,
My end of earthly stay, sans fear!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My pain and suff'rings may now cease;
My job on earth is done/ half-done;
So, let me breathe my last in peace!
O lemme go, my time has come!
I tried to do the best I could;
I hear my Saviour's clarion call;
So, let me leave this world for good!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The Lord awaits with open arms;
The narrow road, I always trod;
So, let my body go to worms!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The love of flesh and world can't stop;
I see my earthly journey's end;
So, to my Master's wish, I bend!
O lemme go, my time has come!
Don't grieve or cry for me at all;
God's time for me has ended here;
So, let me dress up in my pall!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My kith and kin, do pray for me;
My soul will soon be freed at last;
So, long I for eternity!
O lemme go, my time has come!
The angels wait to take my soul;
No one can be perfect all life;
So, let me get my rod/reward!
O lemme go, my time has come!
Most of my time, I lived for God,
The Lord well knows all sins of mine;
So, let me not argue, opine!
O lemme go, my time has come!
My Heaven's road has come to end;
I'm gonna be with God above;
So, lemme go, my time is up!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 21-08-12
poem by John Celes
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Sonnet: Another Hasty Act!
Another life has left ahead of time!
-A decision imprudent and hasty;
Man's priceless life gone for less than a dime?
Death has devoured a human soul, tasty!
Nevertheless, we must take blame for acts;
None can excuse a rash and foolish act;
No suicide can be reasoned by facts;
Such social evils must be curbed by tact.
The greatest gift of love from God is life;
No one has right to take away his own;
We must maintain our cool despite all strife;
No learned man should any day turn clown!
God, show your mercy on this soul as well;
Let not this act put him on road to hell!
'May the soul, rest in peace! '
Copyright by Dr John Celes 19-06-12
poem by John Celes
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Why Death Comes?
There is a place after life;
There is a home after death;
There is a life after life on earth,
And that is the Abode of God
Called Heaven!
It’s a place of joy alone;
It’s a place devoid of sorrows;
It’s a place that’s free from pain and sin;
It’s a place that’s very pure;
It’s a place where sufferings are unknown;
It’s a place of everlasting joy;
It’s a place of commune with God-
Eternity is its name!
Death gives rest to souls that depart;
Death gives reprieve from earthly woes;
Death is the only way to God’s Abode;
Death heralds the resurrection of souls!
When death comes, why should we fear?
Death is the one way to Heaven;
But when it comes, our soul must be prepared,
And if that is done, why bother?
Miracles can be wrought by God;
Prayers can bring miracles through;
Yet, a sea of fervent appeals from souls,
May not keep back a single soul
For a time longer than
What God has pre-destined!
Because, God knows each heart;
God knows each soul;
God knows our sufferings,
And the ideal time to deliver
All.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-2-2005
poem by John Celes
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The poem and her poet
Death once told poor life defeated by life:
Life's no life if lived on the edge of knife,
No more a struggle, nor is full of strife,
Do ye know how many deaths is Death rife?
Death's all death; the same is not true of life,
Life tries to knot her up snaps when death's knife,
But I've heard a man asking on death bed,
Pray, tell me Death, how long ere I'm all dead?
To him, said death, straightening up his head,
Moments might when look like minutes of dread,
Minutes stretch and stretch into hours, instead,
When hours take days, and days, years, you are dead.
Remember, life's lived moment to moment,
‘Tis measured too in a moving moment,
Forget not: Death alone is permanent,
I dwell in life from birth, live life dormant;
There's no freedom in life, nor should death call,
Death changes but the bricks of prison wall,
All quarrels ‘tween life and death, big and small,
Settled are, death when proves him far too tall.
Life is a small piece, but a paragraph
Of my poem, said Death, metre nor measure but in half,
Life may decide every new beginning,
But ‘tis me that knows the length, knows ending.
Eons pass sans measure for endless time,
While no clocks tick, nor dare their hours to chime,
Boulders of rocks break down whilst time stands still,
O grinding into grains of sands sans will.
While life is stuck with my poem's first rhyme,
Death challenged life to dare the worst she can,
I'm the Absolute trouser wearing man1,
I wonder how relative would tick time!
_____________________________________________ ___________
1. Death muses himself to be the male principle, the purusha.
The poem stands for life and prakriti. The piece here depicts
a dialogue between Life, or the matter, the poem and her
creator poet, the Death. In Indic philosophy, purusha is the
presiding deity, the atman or soul, which is eternal and body
is made of prakriti, the material nature, which is death-bound.
_____________________________________________ __________________
- Musings | 12.08.12 |
poem by Aniruddha Pathak
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Sonnet- Preserve Thy Soul, O Man
Protect 0 Man, thy soul from earthly stains;
God's breath of life is immortal in form;
Death takes it across supernatural lanes,
Untouched by the Satanic Tempter- Worm.
Preserve its divine nature without fail;
Released by Death, it should unite with God;
And live forever, Divine One to hail;
Alas, if sinful, goes to Hell by rod.
Let body' needs not tarnish soul's image;
Let sinful thoughts not weaken its nature;
Let it accrue grace, turning man to sage;
Let the ‘sheep’ graze then, the divine pasture.
Our soul is eternal, ethereal;
Our body, mind are just ephemeral.
poem by John Celes
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Magician
He said
You will look right into my eyes
Repeat every word that I say
You want some magic in your life
My love is the only way
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
His body moves behind my eyes
Obsession grows
Its a private show
Magic man with a sleight of hand
Disappearing right into my soul
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Hes here again
That magic man
My eyes wont turn away
Just like magnets pull me in
I cant forget his face
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaa whoaa ohh
Whoaa whoaa ohh
I walk right up and said
Take me take me take me
No pride no shame, enchanted
Call it a dream but dont wake me
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
No matter how fast he goes
Feels like slow motion
Hypnotize me frame by frame
Caught in my own dream paradise frozen
Magician
Magician
Ohh magician
Magician
Whoaaa ohhh
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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