The Pessimist Talking

The Pessimist Talking

Still you’d say, death would not have been better
than this life of looking the other way,
of silent compromise with the devil
and perchance even worse! “But tomorrow…”
Yes, what this afternoon was yesterday;
that is how tomorrows will ever be
a past hope, an illusion in the end!

       

Still you’d root for friends over solitude,
as if our company and partners say
more of us than what we are underneath
and perchance even lie! “But a real friend…”
A wolf, hidden behind the face of man;
that is how all friends will turn out to be,
a promise, that was shattered in the end!

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A Dove’s Coo

A Dove’s Coo

A grey dove sat atop an olive tree,
its wings dull and brown from the toiling flight;
five thousand miles of ocean waves and seas!
A few missing feathers on each, it hoped
would grow again to fill the gaping holes;
thankfully it was just the raging wind!

       

“Where is she? Where is she?”, panting it cooed,
in a voice both sharp and melancholic,
intrusive yet hauntingly beautiful.
‘I have come from far away, where the sun
used to shine less cruelly in days bygone
and the rivers too were panoramic.’

      

‘Now it is as barren as I am without her’,
the grey dove thought, ‘but my coos are not spreading far!’

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Farewell!

Farewell!

Fare thee well my good friends, I pray to God,
may your futures be as bright as the sun!
I have always loved the moon’s eclipses
way too much to pine for the heaven’s warmth!

       

Fly hard, climbing higher and higher still
my dear friends until the wax in your wings
starts to melt and we shall meet again, you and me!
I was Daedalus in my previous wanderings.

      

Farewell my young friends, claim the future as your own!
Remember, you can only reap what you have sown!
Fare thee well my sweet friends, now with a heavy heart
and may be a half-shed drop of tear let me part!

    

I came with Autumn and by Summer I was gone!
For a stay so brief, my friends, who would ever mourn!

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A String of Escapades

A String of Escapades

So my love, do I walk away all defeated and resigned?
I could blame it all on my fate
but knowing I too ought to have a hand
in making life a string of escapades,
think I better keep these thoughts to myself!
   

I missed talking to you about my indecisiveness,
though I know, now is not the time or place
for such petty feelings, it is your time to grow
and be the Summer of abundance for the world;
the final days of Fall is on the previous page!
   

Is it I whose power lets my fingers fly on the board?
Is it I who makes my neurons construe
sensory stimuli the way they do?
I wish all these were dreams I’m having in my grave!

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One Day I’ll Write A Poem

One Day I’ll Write A Poem

One day I’ll write a poem for sure,
a real poem that will take its readers down the rabbit hole,
to the place with no illusion
as the definition of sanity, set and observed
by an overwhelming majority,
no one knows whether wittingly or not!
    

One day I’ll write a poem for sure,
one whose melody will resonate with the vibration
made by the beating of its readers’ hearts
and in tune too with the frequency of their thoughts!
    

All I have and will have written until that piece,
are my humble tries to compose it,
though failing over and over again.
I hope you are keeping your fingers crossed!

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