Ashoka- Samrat, Fierce, Ahimsak

Well, here, Varun presents to you a poem which is a complete mixer of old nd new english with a blend of Indian culture. Ashoka- he was mightiest of all, was potrait of every possible human qualities- he had rage and with it, he had peace within him. I thereby, highlight three of his mighty qualities- Samrat, Fierce & Ahimsak, something that all of us possess. It's my longest trial in poetry yet and I found that history is pretty interesting.
So GUYS, are you ready for WAR & PEACE ?

Canst any human durst,
Tarry against my mighty worst,
None knows from whence,
Nor shalt, my conquering essence,
Nary henceforth dost,
Quest my empire at any cost,
I left the history to trow,
Whither go my power's bow,
Am the cause of,
Dipavansa and Mahavansa all above,
Bindusara's son, the world has known,
Brighter than sun, I have shone,
Winds chant my name,
Oceans rise on my fame,
Hath thou never listened,
In my name birds tweeted.

"Oh Mighty Chakravati King!
Fullsome kingdom, will become with a mere thing,"
Ye not did wit,
Naught in the world. I can't make it,
Spell thy wish,
I can even make lion a cold fish,
"Oh Lord! Kalinga remains unrivalled,
Even once Ye didn't hailed,"
Pudh! this fact to be considered,
Sure, I will make Kalinga trembled,
"The city's full of pride prestige and legacy,
Exception to all, it's Rajdharma, only democracy,"
Wax the kingdom, under my charm,
Overmany swords will become rocker arm,
Bones broken, blood will be seized,
And Kalinga will be freezed.

Towards the east we will proceed,
Crush each mortal as a weed,
Time and tide wait for none,
But they do for me, I'm pre-won,
In twelve days we'll move, I announce,
On to the victory, we renounce,
On the rise of the sun, they took on,
After dozen days of rock on,
Swords- all thirsty for blood,
Bows and shields all new as a bud,
Trumpets blew, soldiers roared,
In a haste, hundred miles they soared,
All horses grimmed with a smile,
Elephants stood proud all on a while,
"And here comes King, son of Bindusara,
All set with us to conquer Kalinga."

Midst of storm, deadly winds blew,
Standing in grounds of Kalinga, was mightiest crew,
Rose high in air- Ashoka with his horse,
Set to create feeling of torture and remorse,
Arrows mer arrows, swords met swords,
'I'll kill thou', were the only words,
Warriors on foe side,
Seemed to be a bit bright,
But with swords in hand held tight,
Ashoka shaved off each pride,
As a storm blast he moved,
Shouting and cutting, with all this he grooved,
For a hundred cries, he was the reason,
He created a new bloody season,
His arrows crossed each heart and nerve,
Moved straight he, without even a curve,

"Surrender we, to thee, you our Lord!
But please forgive our lives in name of God,
O Mighty! your power has made us tremble,
Leave the blood game, please be humble,
At ye mercy now we lie,
Thy anger we couldn't defy,
King of Kings, the son of Bindusara,
To thou, here we surrender our Kalinga,"
Thou see, before your eyes, I did,
In a heavy rage, millions are killed,
This was just a drop of shower from my monsoon,
After a million kills, I spare, you as a boon,
All's land filled with rotten muscles of dead bodies,
And oceans coloured red with floating bodies,
Am now the tremendous king of Kalinga,
I, I am the super Chakravati Ashoka."

Now since all's over,all's mine,
Take my charioteer through, redeem my shine,
Move me through my new kingsdom,
All people will see the new king handsome,
And then moved his charioteer,
With blood-studded hands, slowly he steer,
But alas! Half of the kingdom was crushed,
All bodies blood brushed,
Was this all power and mighty courage can ought,
For a moment Ashoka thought,
The half dead tearless grandma,
And a naked boy crying for amma,
And an old man with burned eyeballs,
With a billion unheard calls,
All quivered, shivered and tremble,
Here and there, hither and thither, all hurled.

Am I lost or have I won,
Incognito mystery, knows none,
Does the victory gain cry,
Am I so bad that even defeat feels shy,
I may rejoice at the victory,
Or that clebration is contradictory,
Years ago, I was a mere boy,
Playing in mother's lap, all sorts of toy,
And now I'm a thriller,
Of others' mother killer,
Years ago, I was somebody's son,
And now I killed so many fathers, leaved none,
Does the wind really praises,
Or abuses me, behind my faces,
Dost the birds that fly above,
Me, do they really love?

Does my expansion of land,
Let my love and heart expand,
Dost my swords which are red,
Ever think of those who are dead,
No! my mind can't help me,
My deeds are sin after all, I see,
But wait! Is this the same mighty Ashoka?
Or it's weraker- after taking Kalinga?
No, I can't be weak,
My repute, my peace, I will seek,
If I did wrong,
I'll remove all wrong, easy like a song,
I'll show path of humanity,
Follow peace till eternity,
And now this son of Bindusara,
Will be a peace-flu, a follower of Buddha.

-Vaibhav Varun