Another flick, a spark, once more awakened the past,
Illustrating memories, are alive and always last.
I recall your visage with, its veins, its charm, and grace.
Some invisible griefs, Behind of that bony face.
Your tender artistic look, at a silly Rubik's parts,
Made your endless affection, dwell in our empty hearts.
You were our J. Keating of Weir's ingenious mind,
And that 'Remembrance Fest', that you held: one of a kind,
To our liveliest friend, we had toasted, and cheered,
But I saw a bloody band, on your wrist was appeared.
You smoked and you spoke, with your own personal tone:
'A dead soul would never need, all of these; to be well known,
Look the living hey kiddo! and cherish their real worth.'
I stared at the white band: Accessible, open source.
I thought it should be a band, you could have tied it with care,
Upon a pretty girl's...glowing and blonde hair.
Not as a merciless rope, tight around the skinny neck,
But just like the sign of love, danced by the wind in a lake.
Hey, my friend! don't frown, let me exactly define,
Not a regret for the dead, but as an amity sign.
Congratulations, dear poet. This poem is selected Poem Of The Day by PoemHunter. A remarkable achievement, and truly deserving. All the best, dear poet. Please share more of your poems on ph.
Made a revisit today. Your reference to the movie "Dead Poets Society" by Peter Wier made me reflect on free thinking and the human need of Self-expression. The film has been adapted in Malayalam, with Mohanlal playing the role of Keating