Tag Archives: optimism

Messiahs of the Broken Birds

Posted in Poetry English by

“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

Love, Greed and the Elephants’ Graveyard

Posted in Short Stories English by

After a full day of rain in Africa, the sun goes down, hiding behind the majestic purple clouds. The clouds, in turn, gradually disperse to reveal a bluish-black and velvet night sky. It is adorned with small glittering sequins - stars both big and small and stars both near and far.

Whenever it rains in Africa and the night grows dark, the elders sit around the crackling fire, and the children and young people gather around. If the elders are kind and in a good mood, they tell stories of the days gone by and the days that are still far away in the future. Myth and history make love under the night sky, and stories are born - stories of magic and wisdom and stories of love and longing. On one such magical night, the story of the elephants’ graveyard breathed its first.

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Chronicles of a Pessimistic Optimist

Posted in Poetry English by
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Between hope and despair lies a grey hall filled with regret and guilt.

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I have always been a pessimist and also an optimist;

my life is a grey hall, filled with a rainbow mist

My past had been dark, and my future seemed so bright;

the night had been dead, but I said, long live the light

Yet my thoughts had been honest and so very true;

my mood had always been the darkest hue of blue

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I push open the window and scrutinize my past;

I recall everything clearly, the first and the last

I see so many butterflies riding the sunbeams;

some ugly and the others pretty - nightmares and dreams

The womb was very warm, and it was so secure;

but the shelter was a curse when the doom seemed sure

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My memories, when I open the old, musty book;

time had passed so fast, like a fast-flowing brook

Faces and images always passed by in a hurry;

my nostalgia was always chaos, even the chaos was blurry

Within this chaos, bitter conflict had always been a must;

all the treacheries of life and only a little bit of trust

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I have been the prophet of hope and a seer of visions;

but my regret is so bitter for all the bad decisions

The wounded birds, I always made them fly again;

but each time they left a parting gift - a cold pain

I cannot be a savior; it was just a false belief;

there was no pleasure in the pain, just cold, dark grief

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I treaded new paths, and also the dark forbidden places;

roaming in the spirit of adventure, leaving dark traces

Sin appeared to be the wisdom, and virtue seemed bland;

the sense of curiosity kept on burning and was so grand

Desire was the clear water, regret was the muddy silt;

but I always paid the price in the soiled coins of guilt

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Desires were sirens, they bewitched and seduced;

wishes were the flames, but to dust they were reduced

Hope always lived on, but she is a devious bitch;

and disappointment has been so abundant and rich

Wisdom came leisurely; it danced a slow waltz;

the pessimism was true; the optimism was always false

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Life is always a glass half-filled; it is quite right;

darkness always sighs with a promise so bright

Sorrows and joys in a long and tiring queue;

but more of the former than the latter, it’s also true

Within each light, resides a dark shadow;

perched on every tower of hope is a black crow