Death: Fiction Or Reality

Death: Fiction Or Reality short poem

Photo by echiner1

Is it fiction or reality?
Called the end of life or is birth’s wife.

Death, is a dreadful reality,
But, why don’t we accept it wisely.
For fiction, it is the easiest way to frighten,
But about death, it does not make us enlighten.

Some say it is the end.
While for some, to a new body your soul is send.
To some, death pushes us towards oblivion.
For others, it guides us to the light from where the new journey begins.

No one lives forever,
Become death’s guest however.
It makes no difference to death,
That people hate to take their last breath

If I know all this, shouldn’t I accept death being brave enough?
But, I am not sure why I hate death.
Probably, like everybody else, I am also afraid to take my last breath.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Pallavi Mahajan

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
maintain the beauty of life that, we all are different and unique in our own way so, don't try to be anyone else...
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of

Death In Exile

Death In Exile short poem

He had pulled in many springs but failed to find a heaven. Asked not to look away. In absences he tried to enter the wounds again. An aboriginal pain flies over my shoulder. A spiritual failure of mankind? Counting unctuously

Death Of A Godman

Death Of A Godman short poem

I have agreed to cede an unwritten moon in a killing frenzy, for a chequered spirituality. Now visitation will start ravishing the light at dawn. The grievers will assemble for a final scoop of dust. Forgive my star, for a

Death And Vision

Death And Vision short poem

The doubters will cross the coals after the raid. Apology will not be in attendance. Sitting on the throne of cold blooded assassination, do you think justice demands the revenge? Whom you are killing, the body or the spirit? Heads

Life And Death

Life And Death short poem

O how I desire, the deluge {a severe flood} to scrub Aside all the black-hearted, and the tender-hearted would be full with warmth, so they won’t harden, but they will fall for the word hasn’t marked them, they will forget

Just A Myth Until She Became Reality

Just A Myth Until She Became Reality prose poem

She’s loved by many but walks alone. It’s not because she has no one to comfort her, or that she isolates herself from those surrounding her, but it’s because she’s all the strength and comfort she needs. While others find