Great warrior that he was, conquered lands
He feared nothing, bravest of them all
Be it mountains, seas or hot desert sands
On the forefront of battles, always on call
Restless spirit that he was, roamed the world
Nothing held him long or tied him down
Conventions were not for him, neither a mold
No wishes for laurels or any kind of crown
But woe betide what went so very wrong
What made him so ill, confining him to bed?
He was in sanatorium, with dose so strong
As he couldn’t eat, with pipes he was being fed
Soon he passed away with no one there
For one so bold and courageous, was it fair?
Another sonnet----Shakespearean one!