Analysis of One Day, Some day.

ONE DAY, SOME DAY.

One day, Someday
When the pest will become a prey
And the hunter be hunted for.
Lonely dwelling, expecting the clarion call.
This Sounding day, will it be a Sunday?

One day, some day
When the first will be the last
Both the great and the small
Lining  and sleeping alike
For each coming from the womb
Shall not escape going to the tomb
This Mourning day, will it be a Monday?

One day, some day
When mother will answer not her children
And father shall no longer show care
Not because she doesn’t want to
But her eyes can no longer see through
What her sons are going through
Not because he also wish not to
For his ears can no longer hear
The cry of his dear daughters when they suffer
This Trying day, will it be a Tuesday?

One day, Some day
When beauty will fade away
Agility and strength to no avail
A wife on her two soft pillows
Around  the neck bellow
Will her hubby  place his head at night anymore.
A husband with his bold and wide chest
His baby will no longer bide rest.
For he now has a new pillow bellow the ground
Where he permanently has to place his bound head day and night.
And she now has a new resting place
Bolder and wider, where to rest day and night
This Weeping day, will it be a Wednesday?

One day, Some day
When the ear shall hear no sound
The organ of sight shall sight no site
Even at the site of light,  the night cite
The sweet taste of honey,
The tongue shall no longer tell
The pungent odour, the nose will not perceive  
The fragrance pleasantness it will not smell
The organ of touch will feel no grief
Nor will it enjoy the pain
Neither will a pleasant touch be its gain.
This Terrifying day, will it be a Thursday?

One day, Some day
When the feet will fail to tread upon the ground W'en the body like a crop be planted underground
Then an orator or a speaker shall make no sound
Plate of rice will pass unarmed,
Tubers of yam not stabbed
For a foodie will lose his appetite
And the craving of a drunkard will cease
This Frightening day, will it be a Friday?

One day,  Some day
This last day, not of the week
But of both strong and weak
When we will all be put to rest
When our deeds be put to test
When it is time,  either we want or not
When it doesn’t matter what we gather
Altogether, one after the other we will all surrender.
This Sobbing day, Will it be a Saturday?

All this I do not really  know
And I won't pretend to know
But this I know, that one day
We will all be put to rest
And someday shall we all pass away.

.  One Day, Some day.

One day, Someday
When the pest will become a prey
And the hunter be hunted for.
Lonely dwelling, expecting the clarion call.
This Sounding day, will it be a Sunday?

One day, some day
When the first will be the last
Both the great and the small
Lining  and sleeping alike
For each coming from the womb
Shall not escape going to the tomb
This Mourning day, will it be a Monday?

One day, some day
When mother will answer not her children
And father shall no longer show care
Not because she doesn’t want to
But her eyes can no longer see through
What her sons are going through
Not because he also wish not to
For his ears can no longer hear
The cry of his dear daughters when they suffer
This Trying day, will it be a Tuesday?

One day, Some day
When beauty will fade away
Agility and strength to no avail
A wife on her two soft pillows
Around  the neck bellow
Will her hubby  place his head at night anymore.
A husband with his bold and wide chest
His baby will no longer bide rest.
For he now has a new pillow bellow the ground
Where he permanently has to place his bound head day and night.
And she now has a new resting place
Bolder and wider, where to rest day and night
This Weeping day, will it be a Wednesday?

One day, Some day
When the ear shall hear no sound
The organ of sight shall sight no site
Even at the site of light,  the night cite
The sweet taste of honey,
The tongue shall no longer tell
The pungent odour, the nose will not perceive
The fragrance pleasantness it will not smell
The organ of touch will feel no grief
Nor will it enjoy the pain
Neither will a pleasant touch be its gain.
This Terrifying day, will it be a Thursday?

One day, Some day
When the feet will fail to tread upon the ground W'en the body like a crop be planted underground
Then an orator or a speaker shall make no sound
Plate of rice will pass unarmed,
Tubers of yam not stabbed
For a foodie will lose his appetite
And the craving of a drunkard will cease
This Frightening day, will it be a Friday?

One day,  Some day
This last day, not of the week
But of both strong and weak
When we will all be put to rest
When our deeds be put to test
When it is time,  either we want or not
When it doesn’t matter what we gather
Altogether, one after the other we will all surrender.
This Sobbing day, Will it be a Saturday?

All this I do not really  know
And I won't pretend to know
But this I know, that one day
We will all be put to rest
And someday shall we all pass away.

.   One Day, Some day.

One day, Someday
When the pest will become a prey
And the hunter be hunted for.
Lonely dwelling, expecting the clarion call.
This Sounding day, will it be a Sunday?

One day, some day
When the first will be the last
Both the great and the small
Lining  and sleeping alike
For each coming from the womb
Shall not escape going to the tomb
This Mourning day, will it be a Monday?

One day, some day
When mother will answer not her children
And father shall no longer show care
Not because she doesn’t want to
But her eyes can no longer see through
What her sons are going through
Not because he also wish not to
For his ears can no longer hear
The cry of his dear daughters when they suffer
This Trying day, will it be a Tuesday?

One day, Some day
When beauty will fade away
Agility and strength to no avail
A wife on her two soft pillows
Around  the neck bellow
Will her hubby  place his head at night anymore.
A husband with his bold and wide chest
His baby will no longer bide rest.
For he now has a new pillow bellow the ground
Where he permanently has to place his bound head day and night.
And she now has a new resting place
Bolder and wider, where to rest day and night
This Weeping day, will it be a Wednesday?

One day, Some day
When the ear shall hear no sound
The organ of sight shall sight no site
Even at the site of light,  the night cite
The sweet taste of honey,
The tongue shall no longer tell
The pungent odour, the nose will not perceive  
The fragrance pleasantness it will not smell
The organ of touch will feel no grief
Nor will it enjoy the pain
Neither will a pleasant touch be its gain.
This Terrifying day, will it be a Thursday?

One day, Some day
When the feet will fail to tread upon the ground W'en the body like a crop be planted underground
Then an orator or a speaker shall make no sound
Plate of rice will pass unarmed,
Tubers of yam not stabbed
For a foodie will lose his appetite
And the craving of a drunkard will cease
This Frightening day, will it be a Friday?

One day,  Some day
This last day, not of the week
But of both strong and weak
When we will all be put to rest
When our deeds be put to test
When it is time,  either we want or not
When it doesn’t matter what we gather
Altogether, one after the other we will all surrender.
This Sobbing day, Will it be a Saturday?

All this I do not really  know
And I won't pretend to know
But this I know, that one day
We will all be put to rest
And someday shall we all pass away.

©️ The Pioneer Poet