Poetry 2013 Shortlist, Amar Agarwala

Ode to The Graves

They wail beneath cold graves
In muffled agony of yesters,
Berating lifeless souls in homage
Deep old wounds which festers.
Askance they await for eons
Replies loth from the heavens,
Living life in pretended jest
Puzzles in sixes and sevens.
Embraced in a dusty browns
Greens a shroud of pallor,
Scattered thoughts of a day
In cowardice feigned as valor
No turns within shall matter
In pretence an unfair joke,
No haunting shall rewind
The clock in timeless stroke.
The living stand to reminisce
Visages of their lost bonds,
Like in forlorn gaiety stand
Lilies in hyacinth ponds.
Color weaves dreams in air
It’s beauty the earth’s decoy,
Fate’s hallowed hide & seek
Could death be a clever ploy.
Dust would turn to dust
Paying old debts that taken,
The future bridging a past
 Of promises bruised & shaken.
In silence prays the gravestone
Scrawled epitaphs urged to sight,
The living just stare and pass
Their counted breaths in blight.
The dead bemoan in relish
Sweet ceremonies held in time,
Craving for lullabies of old
Abounding in dozens a dime.
The Beaver sings a sonnet
In foliage thick and proud,
Urging the weary to pause
To pick flowers for a shroud.
Sands in hour-glass slithers
May souls be gathered some,
The graves rejoice in mirth
Angels of death have come.