Have all, mourners, not, yet arrived?
Maybe, I hear, bought wails, spent moans
All dreams died, but, requiem survived
No more, squirms flesh, on a, dead man’s  bones!

“Wasn’t he, a bard!”, slurred, one drunkard”
“He kissed, the  chalice, of his death
May, with his rhyme, resound, graveyard”
Even, as he, frisked, ‘renegade’, for a breath!

Shut, dead man’s, staring eyes, they scare
Still Reflecting, mean world’s, melee
Never, truth had been, so, dreadfully bare
Black yesterday, shroud him, in, white today!

Frankincense phantoms, twirl, all o’er me
In my, last adieu, to my, life’s sin-drome
Uwritten, remains, my own, elegy
“A Death, In, My Home”!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra