Poems On Death Quotes

“In the end — or maybe even at the start — we all share one truth: death.
It doesn’t matter how rich you are.
How kind. How broken. How brilliant.
Death is the one door we all walk through.

You can’t hide from it.
You can’t bargain with it.
And you can’t bring anything with you when you go —
except your legacy.

So what will yours be?
When your time here is over,
When the dust settles,
And the world keeps spinning without you —
What will they remember?

Not the things you owned.
Not the titles.
Not the followers.

But the way you made people feel.
The courage you showed.
The love you gave.
The cycle you chose to break.
The healing you sparked.

So ask yourself —
What’s the one thing you want to be remembered for after death?
And then live every day like that answer matters.”
― Marion Bekoe

“To be hanged

He was in his cell,
Wondering about heaven and hell,

Because he was the one due to be hanged,
And throughout the night by old demons he was flanked and fanged,

He remembered everything, his every act,
That had turned him into the man whose conscience was never intact,

A victim of many vagaries and a flippant attitude,
Always surrounded by them in multitude,

But tonight, his last night, when he could dream, when he could imagine,
Think of a new hope maybe; and think of a new short battle that he could still win,

Because tomorrow by the afternoon he shall be dangling on the noose,
Which is already beginning to form a grip around his neck, though loose,

He imagined and conversed with his own mind,
And there he picked moments of happiness, whichever he could find,

And waited for the sun’s rays to enter his dark cell,
Where desires, wishes and hopes died and fell,

In their midst he held on to few moments of happiness, just a few,
To help him walk upto the noose and invent a form courage, totally new,

The sun’s rays gradually gathered in his dark cell and brightened it slowly,
As he looked at the walls hopelessly, but thoughtfully,

He looked perturbed but not demented or lost,
He knew it was the end of everything, his walk upto the gallows to be his steps last,

But he appeared to struggle with the invisible frost,
That had frozen his feelings and cast him in an emotional world where he was lost,

He was despondent, yes he was, you can say that,
But the man in him had not died yet, he had not allowed that,

So he walked with careful but slow steps towards the final knot that would seal everything for him,
And push him into the world where there will be nothing and noone except him,

For that is the tragedy of dying, you die alone, with no one but you,
But he had held on to his moments of happiness, as he approached the hangman, he asked him to do what he ought to do,

The look between the two, the one dying and the one to end life forever, was strange,
It was like a rose looking at its own scent, but looking at it, it felt it belonged to a different range,

Of emotions, of senses, of feelings, of every thought, and as the he let go of his moments of happiness,
The hangman covered his face and hanged him for the sake of justice, and then entered the moment of emotional stillness,

For he had executed a man whose body dangled on the rope,
A sight with which the hangman could not cope,

He turned his face around and then forced himself to be the hangman he is always meant to be,
Whereas the man who was just now hanged remained hanging forever in his memories, there now forever to be,

And in the dark cell where the sun’s rays still try to find him,
The man hangs on like the strange scent of the rose, in faint smells of the corners less bright and more dim!”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“The silent yard

It was a place that filled hearts with feelings of repentance,
And many hearts it filled with feelings of joy without any pretense,

Because here at this place, there were no boundations of precepts,
Everything vanished, all dogmas, all stigmas; and all conventional concepts,

Here nobody uttered words callously to sound glib,
Here it did not matter if one was or was not created from someone’s rib,

Because in this place everything seemed retrogressive,
Yet it was the only way life could stay progressive,

It was the graveyard where the dead were buried,
A place where time never rushes, because here I have never felt gusts of wind that hurried,

A place of complete silence with omnipresent surrealness,
That reminds you of those whom you loved or knew, and now they rest in time’s stillness,

Here every human feeling lies condensed in every grave,
Because they accommodate the loving, the diabolic, the sinners, the good, the bad, the dastards and the brave,

So, whenever I walk past any grave I silently summon all human feelings,
And I feel their every sentiment, their joys, their pains, their happiness and their grievings,

Today the graveyard looked at me from one grave that looked old,
Perhaps it belonged to someone who once felt all these feelings and now he rests in the time’s pause, a perpetual hold,

Maybe I will never know him, but only through the epitaph carved on the graveyard stone,
So I pray for his departed soul and I wish him company of good souls in that dark world where even Gods can feel alone!

So rest in peace now, and know the new forever,
There where time ends to begin anew and becomes yours in ways newer!”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“Rae’s thoughts and hope

He preached, he prayed, in a place, in a congregation,
He possessed an extraordinary imagination,

A charm that mesmerised all, made him a believable preacher,
But after prayers, the preacher never returned and so did not the holy teacher,

Because what he appeared in these holy sessions was a false projection of him,
Behind his conscience and veil of charm was hidden an abominable world grim,

Like in all of us, he too was a host to a resident beast,
Who regularly on his fancies and endless wishes did feast,

He had resolved to taming the congregation than the beast he was regularly feeding,
Within him evil was constantly breeding,

As the congregation left and he eased his hands held in prayer,
He frantically shook them to get rid of the evil layer,

That he recognised but never wanted to let go,
Maybe that is why the priest that stood here was forsaken by his priestly conscience long ago,

So after every prayer, the preacher never returned, just a man with the beast did,
And then behind the morbidity of thoughts and endless fantasies this man hid,

To feed the beast in million ways,
In those vacant hours of nights and endless days,

Because after the prayers the preacher never returned, only his beast affiliated part faced everyone,
As he fed himself on diabolic thoughts and vile imaginations of always someone, a new one,

And this is how the preacher lived until his last day,
He was still the same and he had decided not to change anyway,

And when Lucifer claimed his soul, he was confused too,
Because the beast in him was there so was the preacher too,

It was difficult to tell them apart,
And neither of them alone wanted to depart,

They had fused into one and Lucifer gave them a puzzled look,
Then he looked inside himself and he was completely shaken, and the ground under his feet shook,

The beast had already claimed his soul unaware that he is the God of Hell, the creator of all abomination,
So he cast the beast back into the preacher and now they live in this immortal curse of incarceration,

Where the preacher feels imprisoned by the beast and beast feels imprisoned by the preacher,
Because after knowing the soul of Lucifer the beast had become lot meaner,

Thus began the preacher’s never ending curse,
He does not die, although he longs for it and keeps staring at the hearse,

Because Lucifer did not want a greater God in his own kingdom,
Now preacher is victim of his own knowledge of evil and his wretched wisdom,

The congregation is free, because they have learned to establish direct communion with the God,
And now they never deal with a preacher who always after prayers acted diabolically and in ways odd.”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“Rae’s thoughts and hope

He preached, he prayed, in a place, in a congregation,
He possessed an extraordinary imagination,

A charm that mesmerised all, made him a believable preacher,
But after prayers, the preacher never returned and so did not the holy teacher,

Because what he appeared in these holy sessions was a false projection of him,
Behind his conscience and veil of charm was hidden an abominable world grim,

Like in all of us, he too was a host to a resident beast,
Who regularly on his fancies and endless wishes did feast,

He had resolved to taming the congregation and not the beast he was constantly feeding,
Within him, with a renewed virility, new forms of evil were breeding,

As the congregation left and he eased his hands held in prayer,
He frantically shook them to get rid of the evil layer,

That he recognised but never wanted to let go,
Maybe that is why the priest that stood here was forsaken by his priestly conscience long ago,

So after every prayer, the preacher never returned, just a man with the beast did,
And then behind the morbidity of thoughts and endless fantasies this man hid,

To feed the beast in million ways,
In those vacant hours of nights and endless days,

Because after the prayers the preacher never returned, only his beast affiliated part faced everyone,
As he fed himself on diabolic thoughts and vile imaginations of always someone, a new one,

And this is how the preacher lived until his last day,
He was still the same and he had decided not to change anyway,

And when Lucifer claimed his soul, he was confused too,
Because the beast in him was there so was the preacher too,

It was difficult to tell them apart,
And neither of them alone wanted to depart,

They had fused into one and Lucifer gave them a puzzled look,
Then he looked inside himself and he was completely shaken, and the ground under his feet shook,

The beast had already claimed his soul unaware that he is the God of Hell, the creator of all abomination,
So he cast the beast back into the preacher and now they live in this immortal curse of incarceration,

Where the preacher feels imprisoned by the beast and beast feels imprisoned by the preacher,
Because after knowing the soul of Lucifer the beast had become lot meaner,

Thus began the preacher’s never ending curse,
He does not die, although he longs for it and keeps staring at the hearse,

Because Lucifer did not want a greater God in his own kingdom,
Now preacher is the victim of his own knowledge of evil and his wretched wisdom,

The congregation is free, because they have learned to establish direct communion with the God,
And now they don’t have to deal with the preacher who always after prayers acted diabolically and in ways odd.”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!

“Vacant yet hopeful

The windows are closed,
The room is lit with sunshine and many wishes proposed and unproposed,

There in the vacant room where no one lives,
You can feel something that mind denies and only the heart believes,

Something unseen that sweeps across the walls,
Walls from where the sunlight night’s shadows uninstalls,

Shadows that do not leave the room and occupy dark corners of this vacant room,
Almost like the dark irony of the shadow cast by the most beautiful flower in bloom,

And as the sun is forced to retire by the advancing darkness,
The shadows rise and hang on the walls with a defiant steadiness,

Then they begin to crawl to and fro, here and there, until they are everywhere,
And the vacant room is now occupied by its resident darkness that springs from somewhere,

Maybe it is just an imagination, because nights are dark and days are either bright or sunny,
There could be reasons many, and explanations as many,

So, I decide to occupy the vacant room and challenge its shadows,
There in the shadows, I found trapped moments of time, that the room from somewhere borrows,

From past, from moments that long ago ceased to exist,
So, I opened the windows and the shadows fell, and they no longer did about anything insist,

Because the touch of sunlight had allowed the hope to enter,
And now, the once dark room, the room of sorrows, is the hope’s main center,

Where I often enter to think of her, and my past,
And now instead of dark shadows, her beautiful reflection on all walls I have cast,

So, if you happen to visit the room, and you see her staring at you from every wall,
It is a fused reflection of our love, all our feelings; and an open display of our romantic ball.”
― Javid Ahmad Tak, They Loved in 2075!