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These two pieces captures the soaring arrogance, profound pride, and fiery confidence that characterize some poets’ iconic style. Amrit Ghayal (the first quatrain) was legendary for his fierce, larger-than-life poetic persona, and this specific quatrain perfectly showcases the sheer power he attributed to the poet's pen. The second quatrain, a part of free translation, adds to what he said in the first.
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For nectar of life fend I can,
Vie with Death’s hands--- defend I can.
My song of life a life-giver,
I pen, make dead stones stand I can.
With fire of ink, life blend I can,
The decrees of Fate bend I can.
Though time erases empires vast,
The history’s lease end I can.
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Reflections | 25.09.2026| death, life, poet, song, Quatrain
Note: The first quatrain is a free translation of a Gujarati Piece by Amrit Ghayal as under:
Amrit thi hoth aentha kari shakuñ chuñ,
Mrityu na hath palmañ hetha kari shakuñ chuñ.
A mari shayari ae sanjivani che, Ghayal,
Shayar chuñ paliya ne betha kari shakuñ chuñ.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
inside the hearts of those who stay.
We live and love, then pass away.
We leave behind our DNA
and to our heirs – a brand new dawn.
We live and love, then pass away.
Memories of us linger on
The sad foliage of farewell each year
makes Summer's glory fade away too soon-
and letting go acknowledges the fear
of losing those young verdant leaves of June.
So blessed are Summer scenes that last full term-
complete their fullness by the start of Fall.
But often nature fails to reconfirm
next season's entry includes one and all.
And yes, dear Mom, your Summer went too fast,
without a chance to complete Autumn's scene.
At fifty-five, that Summer was your last;
you left us on September-day fifteen.
I live each season with the thought of you
beneath the leaves of Fall and Winter snow.
But come September, realize it's true;
you rest in peace of your last Summer's glow.
I was never worth for living on this earth,
I was just a dust particle made to be thrown in the dirt.
I wonder why God would have made such an ugly face and broken Soul,
He must have thought, "Oh, that's the person everyone should ignore".
I genuinely don't know if I'll be alive till I'm 20,
Even if I am my soul would be already empty.
I Really wish I could die soon,I don't want to be a burden on anyone on this earth.
I never really got anyone who can love me,
It felt like an act everyone had to show me .
I hope i die with my thoughts of being happy for once in my lifetime, hoping they contain his little smile.
I don't want anything, I'm just trying to survive.
I live for the days,hoping I'll see his damn smile.
His voice is no longer in my ears, his face is like fading shadow haunting my memories.
Unfortunately I will forget his soul.
I will go back to my younger self again try to be happy in my empty void hole.
As far as I know, it depends on two things: first, Allah’s mercy and will; and second, what a person did — in word and deed — before his/her death.
Please, note that childhood is excluded from this concept, because, children (all young children, kids) are not held accountable. Because, kids die before reaching the age of puberty; they enter Paradise in peace.
Death is not the end!
There shall be "Parazach" life
Before Judgment Day
If I should die
Before the dawn, overcome
by a morbid scene. Rise up!
My soul – step to the Light!
And the brighter dream heart
Keeps. Caged men may be subjects
Of time, forced to obey and
Bend, but the spirit once freed minds
No such rules, will love where it
Wants~ or offend. So, laid down I may be – cleaned,
Drained and perfumed—beyond then, life’s hurtful
Rhetoric~ nevermore be gloomed.
I wondered if all these stars;
would ever fall to the ground;
walking away, wandering around;
painfully hoping for magic to be found;
my curiosity was blissfully piqued;
when I heard that melancholic sound;
pitter patter pitter patter;
my heart was served on a platter;
out for the mindless demons to devour;
the ones who roamed on droplets left to scatter;
I looked up and saw the sign;
the absence of light;
and the gray cloudy skies;
it was my cue to leave I thought;
my brain walked but body stopped;
oh, it falls so cool, so calm;
the bead of water on my palm;
my dark orbs match the floating mystery;
letting the tears out of misery;
I look at my torn sleeve;
wounds so deep, I never had seen;
my soul cries for the time lost;
regret finds it’s solace in anger;
it overflows in me and slips away;
the stars stayed in place and didn't fall down;
but my sorrows did;
down with the rain and into the ground.
-v.s
Un-certainty..' Events beyond Biblical..
Being prepared for you.' Fire
For for your desire, a black heat though.?
Coming from just where
( you do not know )
It is intense, with the energy; all the energy
Of lives you have sqandered, including the
Ones that collectivly you self-relinquished
Such will your future be.' The delivery in inevitable..The sender is satan, he in indentured to dispense you wages, this is
( the gift that keeps on giving ) guys..' or gals...? I does not really really ( matter! )
View it as 'gender-indifferent?' Though most malevolent he can't help it by the way ' he is typecast by choice..And i beleive he ( means well?) Well for himself
Anyway..' But he can't cut the mustard.'
his gambit is oompletely busted, a busy fool is he, gambling on hostage taking.'
Obstinate to the enth; hell, of all degrees.'
We cannot know for sure
How much time we have left
And there isn’t a cure
For the loved ones, bereft.
Death may sometimes arrive
Just the way you’d expect,
But for those who survive,
There’s a real disconnect
From the world that they knew
Where their loved one drew breath
To what they can’t get through,
Which is deal with a death.
It has always been so
And it always will be.
When the time comes to go,
There’s no bargain or plea
That can change the harsh fact
Of a person’s demise
Nor step in to distract
From what hope now denies.
The final threshold.
Death gives a sign,
uncertainty and unanswered questions.
A strong and sturdy bridge,
that many have walked across.
Listening in the emptiness,
a harp without strings.
Emotionally imperfect.
Words fail,
thoughts and feelings dominate the room.
~ without need for description
You have struggled for so long.
Accepting does not refer giving up.
The thing I never said
meant nothing,
Words cannot change the course of life.
A night without a facade,
reflecting your truth and sagacity.
You do not need to prepare.
Follow the light in soothing peace,
with unconditional acceptance.
My Soul is Tired
Sometimes the darkness can swallow you whole to where there's no end in sight. The soul struggles and fights praying to be guided to what's right, but the darkness over comes and the soul becomes numb to all the pain and suffering you've witnessed throughout your life. Your soul reads like a novel every page engraved of your struggles. You often re-read those pages to make sense of it all praying the ending will bring fire to your soul. The pain, the suffering, the good and bad had penetrated your soul by all you've had. Your soul can only observe so much suffering before tiredness sets in and there is no light only darkness within. The soul must sleep and write the end of the novel of your life from beginning to end.
The last shavings.
Wood from his guitar.
And whatever else was in his treasure trove.
He used to be selfless.
He said that was trite as a favorite pit stop.
That stop sign is gone, now what?
Crushed up his favorite guitar.
His skateboard too.
Huh.
Right after the tombstone went up.
The crowd left.
Hmm.
When you get buried, they write stuff down.
Like good stuff.
He wasn’t sure he liked words.
Did he just play guitar and skateboard?
That stuff got splattered anyway.
The eulogies were trite as a guy spitting on the ground.
His best friend called him a rebel.
Maybe in death or life, but it left a prickly feeling in the ground.
Temptation.
The crowd left.
So he couldn’t play his ghost guitar after all.
For you are nevermore.
Your eyes' last light
never illumined mine.
Death prompted us
to be hasty -
curbed childhood,
sped me past stop signals,
headlong onto adult carousels.
But we must agree over how these hours are
moving against our wills.
I've remained still until here,
grasping a rumpled-up grocer's receipt
with this budget-buy pen,
confident of words
I have space to admit now
and bury in poetry's
kinetic cemetery.
I'm sure I loved
your faulty teeth's scattered English,
its determined guidance.
I wished my life
had been adequate
to cover your shortfall
as you had covered mine
back when I was all but novelty.
The grass is so green,
so very very green,
the trees with the shadows
are glowing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
those mountains so high,
so very very high,
the glaciers as they flow
are singing.
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the Sun and the moon,
night morning and noon,
with the beautiful stars
are shining
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
memories and thoughts,
of love and sweethearts,
the many in my life,
I would be missing,
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
the rights and wrongs,
learnt through prayers and songs,
that many after me
will still be learning,
……
today is the day,
my very last day,
soon I will be going.
Easy Street
What would you rather Easy Street, or Blessing Boulevard,
Before you answer be vey careful, for choosing the right one may be hard.
One is a way, wide, broad, and shady, the other straight and narrow by far.
Down the one least popular, one will scarcely make it, the righteous, is who they are.
Rapid and rushing, merrily, merrily we go, like countless little fishies going one way,
Everybody’s doing it, just follow the leader, the Easy Street travelers will say.
The other way requires, that those who will travel, will by faith, and their faith to renew.
Like with “The Eye of a Needle,” a rich man and his camel, must kneel and burrow through.
The way of the Christ, is through the gate called Straight, and few there be that find it,
The way of the world is down Easy Street, a death contract to those who will sign it.
You shall receive, a crown of glory, eternal life, the Blessing Boulevard way.
The pleasure and sins, of the Easy Street life, have the wages of sin to pay.
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