WORDS FROM THE GRAVE👻

Stone upon my chest , I'm dead,
left behind the words I said.
My son is here with his lad,
My daughter here cries for her dad.
my entire family who never had time,
are here together ,
I wonder why they waited for death of mine?
to talk and meet with each other.
For me that was a grave issue,
that ended with my grave, who knew?

When my old lady left me six years back,
turned me into an emotional wreck.
Was hard to learn to live without her,
but time healed things to better.
In old age you're like child of ten,
A well said fact by learned men.
Solitude and nothing apart from it,
I got from all bit by bit.
The old age I see differ so much,
so did the learned make a hunch?

My perspect that I earned respect,
vanished as soon as I became a thing of neglect.
Felt not in home but in a quarter.
Do old men only need food and water?
With hair and my life both turned grey,
petty diseases made me prey.
Bones were weak I used a stick.
i recall one day on a surface so sleek,
i fall but no one was there to pick,
was bedridden for about one week.

It rained and grew cold,
i called for them , yes I told !
No one came after for the cries of this old.
Eyes were heavy so was my head,
in the last moments I was just with my bed.
Finally  I was resting in peace,
coming back where the funeral started.
Amidst the soil with so much ease,
look at the heaven a soul departed.

ACCIDENT OR SUICIDE?

What a wonderful day was that,
He was looking great in brown hat.
Next to him I stood smiling,
Behind us were the surfers riding.
The camera flashed and captured us still,
Thought of seeing so much together,
But who knew that we never will.
That place ,that time , those tides , the weather,
however , will stay with me forever.

He shone so bright in everything,
He danced, played and he could sing.
But no matter whether he's appreciated off far,
he always looked on ground not stars.
His family loved him alot , they were proud,
hardly something that he wasn't aloud.
But I guess the trust was somewhere the cause
for all the grief and profound chaos.

The picture showed his thinned off face,
which came as a consequence of over dosage.
Yes , my friend was engrossed with many addictions,
his family's and my only affliction.
We fought over it a numerous times,
he said it's fine and not a crime.
Cigarette , whiskey , beer and wine,
came up along with drugs in no time.
But still he said - "it's all fine!".

As a friend you try to protect your friend,
I did so and veiled all his nuisance.
Never had thought how it will end,
Sometimes we quarrelled , I lost patience.
But I knew I m the only one on whom he depended,
on strands of belief our friendship was suspended.
His parents caught him once or twice,
but by then he had gone far too long,
with guards of addiction all along,
In his smoky path of demise.

One ugly night of may,
my drunkard friend lost his way.
Liquor and cigarettes stenched his clothes,
gradually he reached a highway road.
Not before had he travelled bit far,
the trembling man was struck by a car.
While he lay there motionless amidst the muck,
everyone came , but not the luck.

Looking at the picture today, I recall,
i too am culpable in his fall.
People say it's the vehicle , that took boy's life.
Me? i feel I can never decide.
Whether it's an accident or a suicide!

A DAY 🌄 WITH MR .PRAFUL👱

A poor grocer , closes his store.
Pulls the shutter, which makes him sore.
For he doesn't like this part of the day,
And of course he loved and enjoyed his stay.
The store for others, to him was atelier,
For customers he's Mr .fatty-tatty fool,
But his store says he's Mr. Praful.
Praful's Veggies! the board read,
With cut outs of cabbage and others spread.

Afternoon saw him having his meal,
And upon his mattress with his big box of steel,
Sat Ram and Babloo , and here goes the reel!
That played everyday at this time of day,
Sometimes a game of cards makes its way.

Evening proceeds , customers recedes.
The left over stock is never paid heed.
Closing time is so very gloomy,

Presents his life , he hates so much truly.

Till now his life that basked in light of carelessness,
Grew shady and shady,
As clouds of responsibilities clouded his happiness,
Reminding him he's a man with a family.

His children will soon be going to school,
Still he's so careless and spends like a fool.
Huh! when will our Mr. Praful start being responsible?
Poverty , doesn't tag you with label - ineligible!

However, hantle of Mr.Praful are found in surrounding,
Like he owned his shop we too possess something.
An achievement or opportunity we feel proud about,
But a lot of us wane it away and then shout.
Cards and friends of our grocer,
Come in disguise as various distractions.
Time gets passed in such leisures,
and when our head is no longer above water.
We panick and lose things that matter.

May we reach high and far,
But never forget who we are.
Turning our backs to our duties,

and dwelling in our self made realities.
Will only make us come as fool.
And in times when we'll need ourselves
We'll be next Mr. Praful.