THE PANTOMIMES OF TIME

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December 30 2015.
(The poem is a narrative poem described in the First Person. A man, whose native haunts was
Dublin, tells his wife and son to spread his ash over the Dublin Sea. He was for long a resident
of London. He passes away and they carry his urn to Dublin. The urn got slipped out of the
hands and the ashes remained within the urn. The waves finally carried the urn back to the
London side and forever the urn got nailed under the Liverpool Docks. Now, he reflects on the
compendium of life. What is the reality of our final wish other than the decisions made by the
tides of Time? This poem thus bears a message.)

It was my last wish

The winds of Dublin receive my ash.
For decades more than seven
I was on the playgrounds of London.

There was an alcove of love, deep and cool,

My native haunts often made whispering calls.
To my wife and son I finally besought
On death, my remains to Dublin are brought.
The parting knell finally struck,
Final prayers I solemnly received.
From a jutting rock to waves far below
Parting glances, tears followed my course.
A slip and the urn fell upon the lashing waves!
Forever I was caught within that dark space.
Life is an Old Curiosity Shop, I thought
Our aspirations are often like paper boats.
In the whirl of currents, strong and defying,
It was for long an aimless wander, a great sway.
To East and East, my fate was clear,
To Liverpool bay, my ways were so sure!
Far from Dublin, my lingering dreams,
Here forever I got nailed, cant even scream!
Now, from the crypt I deeply reflectWhat is the anthem and anthology of human life?
The throbs of our heart or the pantomimes of Time?.
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