ODE TO DEATH

O! wildish death,the uncalled guest of life,

Beneath whose influence the unshed lives-

Are taken deep inside the hellish graves.

The dead are decrowned from liveliness and

Are buried unseen arousing stale odour,

Leaving memories in hearts of the alive.

As the wind blows to cease the dying fire,

He comes to loot ones’ status and sink-

The fellowmen in reflections of sorrow.

From childhood stories have they heard long

Even men in divinity had bowed  to him

And he divested at times,everymen.

With a dazed feeling,they heard with fear

For once he w’d set the farewell event

With no choice,he w’d rest them uncouthly.

When juvenile strength of men withers

Breeds in agony and mind swithers

And in fear of him the soul turns numb.

O men! You fright evrything around you,

And no worse agony than the fear of death.

                                                                      --Ajith Vijayan

HYMNS OF OLD

The lonesome song is his trenody,

Of an oldster,who was taken no thought for

And as a weather driven leaf was

Rendend away from his perching nests.

And O! Miserably he adds one to them

Sustenance struggling destitutes,what curse

Had showered on this hoary age:

“It pours and never it rains”!

In the middle of nowhere he walks,

Seeking a vineyard for life;

With the thought of present,uttering imprecations

Tortured by despair and vast agonies….

What though life had been so pleasant,

Booned with all brightness,pride,honour

And upheld with reputation in sprouting ages!

Who now left alone amidst the madding monde.

The shriven skin,the teethless mouth

The sunken eyes in the sunken face

Finding hard to feel any stimulus:

Still he walks alone along the rushing way.

When he falls into his childhood once again

Children w’d desire to hear tales and even songs,

Potentials of only men of past;and still

So is it preserved;unshared and unknown

A brother,friend or father;what’s this state of life?

Though he be a destitute,claims this,does he?

-Ajith Vijayan