Tag Archives: metaphorical poetry

Messiahs of the Broken Birds

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“They called them messiahs of the broken birds—healers who could mend any wounded soul except their own.” A deeply touching poem about the unsung heroes who dedicate their lives to healing others—the counselors, caregivers, and compassionate souls who mend broken spirits only to face the inevitable loneliness when those they’ve helped move on.

Some said they came down from the grey hills,

with kind and smiling eyes and no other skills

Others called them children of the silent lake,

with a goodness so genuine and not at all fake

They nursed the ugly wounds and gaping holes,

their whispers, brought back to life, dead souls

Maybe there was old magic, lining their words,

they were truly the messiahs of the broken birds

They were no shamans, no charm but simple love,

broken themselves, more than a wounded dove

They shared with us only one common bond,

they cared for us with love and even beyond

No other mantra, hope was their one message,

optimism, the only ticket, to secure the passage

Life, as they saw, was unending ups and downs,

kindness, the only way to tread the grounds

They were prophets indeed, but prophets of loss,

their heart were all soft, covered in green moss

Their legacy was loneliness, night and day,

for in the end, their birds always flew away

The Door that Opens with Patience

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Introduction

A profound allegorical poem exploring the transformative power of patience through the metaphor of a mystical, unreachable door adorned with precious gems and ancient symbols. This inspirational verse contrasts the failures of those who approach life’s greatest challenges with force, courage, or status against the quiet triumph of one who possesses patience as their only weapon.

There once was a door, beautiful and old,

of mahogany, silver, glittering gems, and gold

Out of reach forever, for both,

the most courageous and the very bold

Carved delicately, with all the symbols so mystic,

spinning and telling tales, both lively and tragic

Within that door, throbbed a warm heart,

but cold to touch, it was just magic

So many approached this formidable door,

the king and the beggar, the priest and the whore

So many returned from the cruel threshold,

walking on trembling feet, crawling on the floor

They came back with heavy hearts and sad eyes,

broken egos, burdened souls, and anguished cries

Lost forever within their dark regret,

they came back without gains, without a prize

Then came the one, a true soul and heart,

he was no warrior, patience, his only art

He was the one who dared to knock,

the door finally opened, not fully but in part  

For finding the door, he feels so proud,

and knocking on it, he smiled and bowed

So lucky that the door chose to open,

but the quest remains, he secretly avowed

He may be called in or he may be told to wait,

either way for him, it would be great

He has the requisite patience; he has what it takes,

accepted or rejected, it will be him and his fate

Beyond the Edge of Storm

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Introduction

A powerful metaphorical poem that maps the spiritual journey from isolation and struggle toward enlightenment and self-understanding. Through vivid imagery of storms, hidden doors, and eternal knowledge, this inspirational verse explores the transformative path beyond life’s difficulties. The poem presents a progressive journey through four stages: confronting loneliness, facing life’s storms, seeking hidden wisdom, and ultimately finding pure understanding and self-realization.

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In the present, in this very instance;

a white shell of sad and lonely existence

Within this very shell, your soul is alive;

sticking to life with strength and persistence

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Beyond your hearing, beyond your sight;

there is a storm waiting – it’s flashes so bright

Within that storm, a quest is hidden;

a journey demanding true strength and might

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Beyond that storm, beyond its great shadow;

there is a silent door in the high wall of woe

Behind that door, there is eternal knowledge;

a moth worshipping fire, dancing to and fro

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Beyond that knowledge, beyond its very lure;

lies the true understanding, white and pure

Within that understanding, within its warm glow;

you will find yourself, it’s wisdom for sure

The King Who Wears a Crown of Frost

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Introduction

A haunting contemplative poem exploring the universal human experience of loss and its profound impact on our existence. Through vivid imagery of a mythical King who rules over all lost things from his frost-crowned throne, this introspective piece examines how loss shapes identity and the hidden wisdom that emerges from pain. The poem delves into existential questions about where lost loves, dreams, and parts of ourselves go, creating a powerful metaphor of an island kingdom built from collective human grief. A thought-provoking exploration of sorrow’s transformative power and the bitter fruit of understanding that grows from life’s inevitable losses.

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So many things are lost, almost every day;

a child may lose a toy, or an adult, his heart

We may misplace ourselves if we go astray;

if our choices in love are not very smart

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We lose what we love, what we hold dear;

we lose what we hate, what we so despise

No criteria - we may lose a smile or a tear;

we may lose our madness or what makes us wise

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We lose so much; our lives are tainted by loss;

wretched beings with their backs all stooped

We lose so much, we are defined by our loss;

garlands of failure, our tragedies all looped

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Where do all these lost things go, once gone?

This is the very thought that makes me curious

Do they cease to exist beyond their last dawn?

Do they become shadows, silent yet furious?

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Perhaps there is a dark island, far, far away;

filled with deep sorrow, it is eternally cursed

A sea of knowledge, all silent and grey;

pulsing with regret, an unquenched thirst

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On that island, there is a colossal hall of grief;

therein weeps a King, wearing his crown of frost

His legacy is so vast, and yet he fears no thief;

his, is the treasure of all that has ever been lost

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He laments not the loss, yet his tears are true;

he mourns the tragedy of loss, dying in vain

Loss is a tree that bears fruit, if only we knew;

the fruit of wisdom, rotten and bitter with pain