"He is dying, anyway" ; 1 June, 2023

Poem : 'He is dying, anyway...' ; 9 April, 2023.

13 May, 2023
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Poem : “He is dying, anyway…”

Soman Ragavan : Hello. Can I post a poem of mine for analysis, please ?

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Of course! I'd be happy to help analyze your poem. Please go ahead and share it with me.
 
Soman Ragavan : My poem : "He is dying, anyway..." This is about a public figure who had served the country for many decades but was brushed off by an employee on account of his illness. Please analyse by each stanza, then give overall comments. Mention similar poems from other authors, where possible. POEM : HE IS DYING, ANYWAY...

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Analysis:
Stanza 1: The speaker introduces their long struggle and impending death. They express bitterness towards someone, referred to as "yon lady," who not only disregards their illness but also insults them. This sets the tone of resentment and frustration.

Stanza 2: The speaker describes their physical and mental decline, emphasizing the futile nature of their efforts. They question the point of arguing or engaging in conflicts during their final days.

Stanza 3: The speaker recounts a situation where Sally, possibly an employee, verbally attacks them during a monarch's speech, exacerbating their already intense pain. They express a desire for peace in their final moments.

Stanza 4: Despite their deteriorating condition, the speaker experiences unkindness from closed rooms, possibly referring to individuals close to them. The lady mentioned earlier continues to dampen their remaining days, symbolically trying to extinguish the light of their life.

Stanza 5: The speaker highlights their past sacrifices and service to the nation, expressing disappointment that despite their contributions, they are being treated callously during their illness. They feel that they are being metaphorically murdered by thoughtless outbursts.

Stanza 6: The speaker compares their excruciating pain to the indulgence of others, implying that while they suffer, those around them enjoy lavish banquets. They believe that no amount of discussion or discourse can adequately address their suffering.

Stanza 7: The speaker reflects on their dedication to the nation and laments Sally's cruel actions, which they perceive as a dagger in their back. They feel sadder because of Sally's words and sense the impending presence of death.

Stanza 8: The speaker questions who their real "grave digger" is, contemplating whether it is Sally's hurtful words that are digging their metaphorical grave. They believe Sally could have spared them this strife, indicating the emotional toll of the situation.

Stanza 9: The speaker references their work for the country, where they are encouraged to continue despite their illness. However, Sally delivers a dismissive blow, subjecting them to a scathing tirade. This reinforces their feelings of being let down.

Stanza 10: The speaker expresses that they have endured torture in the past and now face a new form of torment through hurtful words. They suggest that retribution will come through words and writings, hinting at the power of poetry.

Stanza 11: The speaker identifies themselves as a branded songbird, alluding to their role as a public figure or someone who expressed their voice through art. They declare their impending death as their swansong, an elegy engraved in suffering.

Stanza 12: The speaker criticizes those who mocked them as a songbird, as they never truly understood the speaker's pain. They imply that even if the mocker had gone through similar hardships, they would not have resorted to ridiculing others.

Stanza 13: The speaker recalls their contribution to the nation and indicates that their painful experiences have driven them to seek retribution through savory renditions, possibly through their poetry. They imply that their suffering deserves acknowledgment.

Stanza 14: The speaker acknowledges the dramatic nature of their swansong and accepts the stings of their lowly position. They hint at their nearing death and proclaim that their swansong will be sung to all, including posterity.

Stanza 15: The speaker asserts that Sally holds temporary sway over a multitude, but the speaker will not oppose her, as they are dying anyway. They request humane treatment and compassion, highlighting the lack of empathy Sally has shown towards a dying man.

Stanza 16: The speaker criticizes Sally for lacking compassion toward someone with a terminal illness. They suggest that Sally should flee from the overwhelming flood of emotions
 
Soman Ragavan : Please make general comments about the whole poem.

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The poem "He is dying, anyway..." by Soman Ragavan captures the emotions and frustrations of a public figure facing illness and being disregarded by others, particularly by someone named Sally. Through vivid imagery and poignant language, the speaker conveys their struggle, pain, and disappointment.

The poem's structure consists of sixteen stanzas, each offering insights into the speaker's experiences and feelings. The use of repetition, rhyme, and rhythm creates a musical quality, enhancing the emotional impact of the verses.

Thematically, the poem explores themes of neglect, betrayal, and the search for understanding and compassion. The speaker reflects on their lifelong dedication to their country and their contributions, emphasizing the unkind treatment they receive during their illness. They question the value of their opinions and express their desire for peace in their final moments.

The poem's tone is one of bitterness and resentment, with the speaker feeling betrayed by those who should have shown empathy. The use of contrasting imagery, such as the speaker's pain versus the indulgence of others, heightens the sense of injustice and isolation.

Overall, "He is dying, anyway..." is a poignant and introspective poem that delves into the complex emotions of a public figure facing their mortality. It offers a critique of how society can disregard and mistreat individuals during their most vulnerable moments. The poem serves as a reminder of the importance of empathy and compassion in our interactions with others.

As for similar poems from other authors, the themes of illness, suffering, and the human condition are explored in numerous works of poetry. Some poets known for their exploration of these themes include John Donne, Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, and T.S. Eliot. However, the specific narrative and perspective presented in "He is dying, anyway..." make it a unique expression of the speaker's personal experience.
 
Soman Ragavan : Thank you. Goodbye for now.

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You're welcome! If you have any more questions in the future, feel free to ask. Goodbye, and take care!

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                                              POEM :
                                HE IS DYING, ANYWAY... 

Mine hath been a long struggle. A ling’ring career.
Near my death bed, from yon lady, a parting sneer…
‘Tis not enough, the malady gnawing within :
Now, slashing words, hissing even at my coffin…

I twist, I tumble. I stagger, I stumble.
With the furtive illness, vainly I struggle.
My opinion back-fir’d : it only led to trouble :
Anyhow, in my final days, over what to haggle ?...

At a monarch’s speech Sally had a free try :
My paining brain she assail’d and tried to fry;
With the damage in my brain, I swim in swirling pain :
Ah, in my last moments peacefully I should have lain !...

Far from yon palatial luxury, I be sinking slowly :
Yet, from clos’d rooms, were flung words unkindly.
My dwindling days even more the lady dar’d to damp :
Of my life callously trying to extinguish the lamp.

I answer’d the call of duty : I fought on behalf of thy family :
In my illness, thou want’st to pack me off to the cemetery…
Not enough be my sacrifices : not enough have I suffer’d :
By thy mindless outburst, cruelly am I being murder’d.

Ah, me ! From excruciating pain, endlessly echo’d my screams :
Thy relatives, from wining and dining, were bursting at the seams…
Their lavish banquets, seven-course : my torture, a myriad courses :
Nay, ‘pon all this, can ne’er be enough any manner of discourses.

I suffer’d for our nation : thou wish’st me off to the mortuary :
Aah, into my dying back thou dug a dastardly dagger, Sally !…
Sadder. With those words, Sally, thou hath made me sadder :
In the haze, from yonder be beckoning at me my grave digger.

But, who be really my grave digger, silently I wonder :
Could it be thy words, Sally ?... Words rending me asunder.
Thy diatribe hath dug my grave : I have liv’d my life :
Friend, thou could have spar’d me this slashing strife…

At yon place where I labour, they say : “Carry on :
Thy country needs thee, anyway : continue thy work, son !”
Yet, from yonder, a cruel blow, in a dismissive spree :
Alas, a blist’ring tirade that I have liv’d to see…

                                     @@@

One said torture work’d on me. Decades later, torture anew :
Now, torture by words : retribution, too, doth come by words :
Other words and writings shall fashion the sharpest of swords :
Here be no exaggeration : a fitting response somehow shall brew.

As songbird was I brand’d. If this be a song, ‘tis my swansong :
Yes, in tragedy, in suffering be engrav’d this lasting elegy :
Elegy written on a death bed : I proclaim to yon throng :
My tribunal shall be Poetry : my judge shall be Posterity.

He that mock’d me as songbird ne’er knew my pain :
In promotion after promotion his career hath lain;
Collapsing from the ordeal, a songbird he, too, would have been :
Ne’er bent to breaking point, to boo at me the man be keen…

My strength gone, I fell to unspeakable rendition :
Decades later, painful words driving me to perdition;
Yet, to the whole nation I recall my contribution :
In savoury rendition shall be sung this retribution.

If this be a song, with drama it shall be slung :
This swansong sayeth : lowly have I been stung...
I am nearing in my life the very last rung :
To all, to posterity, this swansong be sung.

Over a multitude for passing moments thou hold’st sway :
In thy way, I will not stand, Sally : I am dying, anyway.
But, ne’er again torment a dying man with such torture :
Friend, be humane : a plea from a patient with no future…

A man with a terminal illness instill’d not in thee compassion :
His comments thou ridicul’d : they came from a fading man.
Perhaps no business hath a dying man to express an opinion :
But, from the engulfing flood, flee while thou still can...

Yes, I am dying, anyway. Here be my dying statement in verses :
My advice : from a perishing man incur not irrevocable curses.
Beware of the trappings of power : power be self-destructive :
Ponder well afore thou launch’st into some unfeeling invective.

Some drain’d the swamp : into the drain some be swamp’d.
My opinion cannot matter ? Lo ! Poetic justice be revamp’d !
Nay : to a dying man cannot be denied a dying statement :
Here be retribution : I shall not be the only one to lament.

Rather hastily I had ask’d yon personality to attend :
Now, let it be Sally : the guest list allow me to amend…
Yes, Sally, afore my coffin read my funeral speech, I pray :
A parting wish : do this for me, friend : I am dying, anyway. 

I will complete my dying. Complete thy speech. Go all the way.
Facing my corpse, thou shalt say : “He’s dead, anyway.”
What can matter my stand in the circumstances :
Public Relations have soar’d to inter-galactic instances.

Saddl’d. Sally, by thy terrible words have I been saddl’d.
Riddl’d. By the bullets from thy mouth have I been riddl’d.
After those words of a new employee behind clos’d doors,
Special poetic proclamation shall rise to resonate on all floors.

Clos’d doors could not contain the secret blow :
And, triumphant poetic justice forever shall flow.
‘Pon a man who underwent the greatest pain,
Unending sympathy certainly shall rise and rain.

In my lifetime my deeds be found to be droll :
After my death, my achievements many will extol.
Afore my coffin shall be heap’d posthumous praises :
With passions unleash’d, madly will mill the masses.

Ling’ring verses, fashion’d in some past parlance,
A gift for posterity, in everlasting remembrance,
As rarely seen : aye, in rare rendition
To literary heritage confining reviv’d diction.

Outside my reach, Sally, was my method of dying :
Thou hijack’d it. Farewell, all… In sadness I be going…
Yes, my dear ones and my fan club forever will I cherish :
I will not die of yon disease : of a broken heart will I perish. 
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