The Unspent Past Poem by Unnikrishnan Sivasankara Menon

The past, void, died
An untimely death
As life eternally spied
On the cold lonely hearth.

Death, that had nothing to offer
Kept silent through the night
Finally ceased to suffer
From the dim-witted light.

Dawn, a calamitous bait
Dangled before its creamy eyes
Plaintive in a paranoiac wait
Cleaved in incongruous sighs.

The present died before it was born
Vanished clueless in a dreary gloom
Painted the skies in a colourless scorn
In the air a deluge did large loom.