A Dead Swan Poem by Prabir Gayen

Grave series 2

- -A deadswan - -

Soft skinny figure,
indolent and once burt,
the heart of many dandy men,
died of the pangs of misbelief,
in deep sleep and upon awakening
found herself in a gloomy room,
With doleful musical pose blooms a mystic, blue-eyed maid whose beauteous spears pierced a young age
to sleep in nature's breast,
Amid curious crowd of the grave.
With a deep yelling and screaming,
and flying to a nearby tree,
sat star - faced teeming with lifeless, unknown fear of being among dead.
With shy, fearful mind to watch her face on dewy leaf springs,
a stream of waterless coolant,
moisture to dim the ambience
that is always lightless for pain unfulfilled.
Snoring voice of passing breeze she made her presence amid open-mouthed vagrant, spirits who lost all lustre
for heavy duty of making grave a well furnished dwelling place,
One was brushing,
another was carrying breeze
for sweeping and many others
were dusting with forward move,
to another fieldto extend
the grave for new members to come.
A heavy swarm of winged multitude
carrying feathery foamless river to drench, the dry season of the grave stopped
to have a glimpse of new born baby of the grave.
Line they to enjoy her company
and stumble across the pebbles steep
and asked herfor acquaintance.
" Bella my name, daughter of a swan seller,
and I was the most beautiful swam in our home". Said She.
A cloud of dark complexion
over her face,
And choked her throat for uncanny
valley of deadly thought.
I was tortured and torn
to pieces by some beastly sub-human beings.
Mortals even though dead on spirit plain,
led me here -the grave of my dream.
My name was inscribed in a young heart
that panted ever,
Since our meeting from
our school hour.
He died from shock
and taken shelter in some solitary
breast in nature,
Grave from grave would I move
and find a place
to resume our tale of unfinished love.
Though earth failed,
graveyard would shelter us to get back our love,
And soul without veil would be our last pleasure".
With deep sigh as a stormy night
the viewless wings of the grave
flew to the next tress and cried,
hanging from bough without
ever seeing or feeling better than human beings.
Still waiting forever for the new sun
and new men to resurrect
the rotten flesh,
A heaven in men,
to vibrate with calm deep light of serenity, and peace ultimate to dawn on earth.
Grave's utter stillness may pave the way,
and all with circle formed prayed
for peace of mind.
The dark-invisible to mortal eyes
took oath,
ceremony was not there though,
and grim faces and silent ever since the forms melt,
to dawn a new reformation
On the plain of earth and sky,
blue screen above to enjoy
the blessing of God.
Throughout the night the grave becomes a meeting ground and floor of conviction,
Unknown to mankind,
unseen to all,
A plain is ready to reform form
by the formless Being.
*****