Daya Nandan

Gold Star - 6,254 Points (2.7.1992 / Malaysia)

The Grim Reaper - Poem by Daya Nandan

The physical embodiment of death is lurking by my bed,
A tall skeletal figure shrouded in a hooded cloak waiting to take my head,
Observing the hourglass of my mortality, waiting for the last grain of sand to fall,
Watching the bloom of my youth fade, , waiting for my final downfall,

He is now gliding around the walls of my room, eager to harvest my soul,
Swinging his scythe violently, thinking my life is now under his control,
He is now getting closer to me, watching life fade from my eyes,
The harvester of souls is waiting for the moment his poor victim dies,

Two reddish bright flashing lights, shining out from the sockets of his skull,
And here he is in my room staring at my facial expression so dull,
I know that he is just waiting, this evil angel of the abyss,
Positioning himself in a killing stance for his scythe to give me death’s kiss,

Waiting to collect my soul with his scythe and send it off to the underworld,
The soul ripper of mankind who wouldn't even spare a young boy or girl,
And now he is about to work his plan, he is coming towards me,
And here i am thinking of a way to break this horrid seal of my destiny,

He reaps souls of the living, he is going to rob me of my life,
The face of death itself, the dark edge of death’s knife,
And here i am thinking of my final words to say,
Before he ends my life and brings an end to my day,

He slashed downwards towards me with his strong and mighty blade,
Only to find that i had a shield under my blanket to stop his way to make me fade,
I jumped out of my bed, took out my nunchucks of chain and steel,
Using what strength i have left in me, to prevent the reaper’s ultimate steal,

I attacked him with all my skills, all aiming at his dominant arm,
While carefully dodging his attacks to prevent myself from harm,
And after many hits from my nunchucks, his arm had finally been dislocated,
His scythe had dropped to the ground, i can now escape what is fated,

I grabbed his scythe slashed him while he was still standing in great shock,
Reaping his soul, the dark angel of the life’s based clock,
He was now dead, and his ancient soul was floating around,
I grabbed it and ate it silently without a sound,

I grew younger as i devoured his essence, i grew stronger as i ate his light,
I became surrounded with darkness, my clothes became black as the night,
My body grew taller and stronger, my iris slowly became bright red,
I became powerful, i could fly but the best of all was the fact that i was not dead.

Topic(s) of this poem: death


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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 13, 2015



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