Guest poem submitted by Mukund Rangamani:
(Poem #458) The Chariot
Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible. The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.
This is one of the few poems which has imho done justice to the concept of Death. The poem itself is pretty simple, but the imagery conjured is quite nice. I especially like the rather abrupt way in which the poem begins, rather beautifully capturing the phase transition which seperates death from life. The rest deals with the passage of time after death in a manner that seems to immortalise the theme. Mukund.