Miser Man Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

He died as miser man
Collected wealth as much as possible
Cared for no poor or relatives
Put no value in his eyes for any kind of services

No one took notice of his death
Forgot even about laying the wreath
He had no one to be called his dear friend
He lived daily but only to be died at each moment

He left behind enormous fortune
No one could count it to correct tune
May be scattered all over unaccounted
Recovery of it was highly doubted

People live on simple food as forbidden by doctor
They have enough of everything but can't perform as an actor
They have limited mobility and nothing is of any use
Life becomes burden and adds more to confuse

Why not live life to full extent?
Why should there be left any corner to resent?
Why at all some one should be harmed for no cause?
Life can be over at any time making "was" from "is"

Some of us take little solace
Bear smile and move with nice face
Extend little help and boost more
They too can be called miser therefore

Not necessarily all must become donors
Not all must opt for or act as saviors
Only soft approach needed towards fellow man
Two kind words, if at all, to make him feel as human

Are we struggling for making only ends to meet?
Is it not possible to say hello to everybody and greet?
It needs no answer from any one but simple recognition
Our emotions are highly volatile in nature and burst from simple ignition