Tamil Death Songs – Assorted 1

  1. Song above – spoof song of dead man.

2. Song of man facing death sentence.

3. Song of rage of failed man wishing for death.

4. Song sung for a dying man.

5. Song blessing the dead.

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I chanced upon

I chanced upon
a deep green pond
that sought my whispers
and echoed along.

I was lost
in my sounds
and croaked at the stars
croaked at the moon
without a pause.

Us frogs’ croaks
filled the night time sky
no silence all around.

I once heard a cuckoo
sweet music aspired
in my croaks.

The cuckoos were silent
as I croaked on and on
and I swore to be mute
and not croak anymore
but my nature was just
that I couldn’t shut.

So at last
to give and find peace
I prayed to forever croak. 
(as in die)

That cuckoos may sing
may be spare a song
for us foolish frogs
that tried their hands
and went away for peace.

Love and Beauty

Where night ends, day begins,
every beginning has an end,
why is it? My love, my friend,
all waste to end in dustbins;

you are all my kith and kin,
beauty, love and affection blend,
my dirtied conscience,
rusted soul you rinse;

your eyelids open just to close,
but then opens freshly again,
in the seas the waves rose,
only to subside without any gain;

your beauty, youth, style and poise,
shall also end much to my strain.

What Dreams

What dreams, what thoughts, make a man lonely,
for what, didn’t all, come from the same press only,
or what deeds are that, that make a man lonely,
in truth, is there any one holy, or really lonely;
is it mere melancholy, there’s no such thing as ugly,
why should you talk, when I don’t listen,
why should I be loved by any one,
when I see, only myself truly;
come here, not for me, nor my thoughts,
for am I worthy of you in any way,
yet come, for the times, when you miss
someone, near, dear or far away;
or yet when you feel unvalued
or even desolate and lonely,
for my tunes though unloved,
might just make you see the light.

 

Selfish Giant

What weird puzzle to try,
a stone or a heart ran dry,
self possessed, deaf to others’ cry,
in a selfish world thoughts fly;

suspicious, self piteous, stupid, shy,
revolting civilization and society’s pry,
frustrated by routine and common fry,
still the need to share strongly weigh;

unheard is the heart’s stammer,
unseen the glow of the new moon,
giggling at the thoughtless murmur,
fun filled invisible shadow at noon;

unable to learn world’s grammar,
is giant’s thoughts thorns in dune.

Inner Adventure

People hang from the Eiffel,
some tumble from the Everest,
these brave souls baffle,
even morons of least interest;

they tread the trodden,
risky yet with guides and ropes,
crazy paths yet beaten,
they belong to sane corps;

some dare paths less tread,
like Frost, Keats, that others dread,
yet truly crazy bare their chests out,
and pray for a bullet’s shout;

like true adventure worth the bullet is Che’s slack,
a path not white, not grey but brave black.