To the Poem

To the umpteen lives lived in quiet desperation.
To the days seized at the behest of unknown poets.
To the Captains in our lives.
To the emphatic poems they inspire.

O Captain! my Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            This arm beneath your head;
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
                         Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!
                            But I, with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

___

On a related note.

Comic originally published on medium.com

RIP

Dear Readers,

It is with deep regret (and unbridled glee) that we announce the demise of our beloved (and wretched) friend, Lal S. He passed away (finally) last night. The hullabaloo was too much for him. It took its evil toll on his troubled (and diabolic) mind. We have been told that he died (or more fortunately not) in peace.

We all knew him as an irritating (and preposterous) character. Yet he, somehow, always managed not get on anyone's nerves. He was kind (and wise) enough not to intrude on anyone else's privacy. Always (quitet rightly so) minding his own business, he somehow became everyone's dear (antagonist). Even his enemies befriended him.

We hope that his mortal (and mortified) soul will finally find its rightful place in heaven (or hell). Please pay your condolences (and greetings) so that his soul might rest in peace.

Amen

Regards,
By Whatever Name You Know Me

~~~~

A concerned friend was kind enough to respond to the sad news. Quoting.

Dear Friend,

It is with a saddened heart and watery eyes that I receive this piece of news from you. The preposterousness of our modern times seems to have taken away our biggest inspiration and hope.

Just yesterday, Lal had remarked that he regarded restlessness as his forte. It is only heart-breaking to think that neither his soul, nor his body will ever be restless again. In other words, we shall never see Lal in his element again.

May his soul rest in peace. Amen.

Regards,
Anonymous

PS The name has not been mentioned in order to protect the anonymity of the concerned author.