hasmukh amathalal

Gold Star - 66,209 Points (17/05/1947 / Vadali, Dist: - sabarkantha, Gujarat, India)

A Place Called Hell - Poem by hasmukh amathalal

Some one reminded me of a place called hell
Lonely place where every one is doing well
All let loose strange stories around
No basis whatsoever or any images are found

No one may argue in favor of a hell
Generally all may not favor it at all
In their opinion they all did well to be in heaven
Though they have no faint idea even

They have done nothing to find place in this place
They did all whatever they could do to malign the race
At final time they decided to donate some tip of wealth
They knew it well at end of the game with deterioration in health

Some one may go even further to advocate
In the memory of parents some good steps they will indicate
Raising of temple or some orphanage in their name
At least this will save them for some shame

They have all praise for departed soul
The soul had lived noble life with no mistakes or foul
The God only knew how noble and honest he was?
The end was imminent but this was only pause

The heaven has many exits and inlets
Only innocent and nobles are let
Rest all sent to very nice place called hell
There they will spend their life very well

So if some one is referring heaven we should take it for hell
All horrified stories are known to all but now no need to tell
Human ears are not used to hear unpleasant remarks
Though they praise dear ones with full marks

How the hell can be different from atmosphere?
Why the people get afraid with so much fear?
When it is known that only nice people with have entry?
Rest all will be waiting in sun without shed of the tree

Well it is generally accepted that there is another world
Where there is no foe or friend or hot and cold
Everything is same and no difficulty at all
Still untruth may block it like wall

I fearlessly taught and advocated about good or bad
There is nothing to be felt as pain, agony or remain sad
The end may be peaceful and all set to depart
There may be found two gates painted with art

It will remind us of our past
The life might have been over very fast
It was now turn to pack up and say good bye
Even though we had lived happily with very good try


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Poem Edited: Tuesday, November 2, 2010


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