Tag Archives: symbolic poetry

The Eternal Hitchhiker

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A cosmic fable of kindness, exhaustion, and the price of wandering.

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to reach some peaceful planet,

away from the chaos and the raging wars

But each time he hitches a ride,

he pays a certain heavy price

He pays it with a piece of his heart,

each time, sadly, an odd roll of the dice

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to find light, joy, and happiness,

within the darkness that kills and scars

But each time he hitches a ride,

he realizes what has always been clear

He can give happiness - anytime to anyone,

but to be unhappy forever is his only fear

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People call him the eternal hitchhiker;

he hitchhikes rides on the shooting stars

Hoping to finally rest and laugh aloud,

amongst the butterflies and a million flowers

But each time he hitches a ride,

his dreams are burnt and turn into cinders

It’s time to stop hitching rides forever;

it’s time to finally sleep in the eternal winters

The Last Song

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When the last song is sung, nothing is denied—not love, not guilt, not longing.

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us forget all and everything, the good and the dire

Let the high flames defrost our frozen souls,

all the cold voids within and all the black holes

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Come let us search for and grab our broken violins;

let us sing songs, and remember and repent our sins

Let the warmth of our company mend our broken hearts,

all the joys and regrets - together and in parts

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Come let us lament, the fading memory of old love;

let us caress our nostalgia - the delicate, grey dove

Let the stories we tell mark our long and sad past,

let them cherish our tears, which dried up so fast

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Come let us remember innocence, which was lost forever;

let us applaud corruption, the seduction was so very clever

Let us rethink all our deeds, so lofty and so dark,

let us not pass a harsh judgment, with a red mark

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Come let us sit by this brightly burning fire;

let us blow it anew, the flames loftier and higher

Let us say farewell to everything, ambition, and desire;

warmly welcoming the end, the savior, and the pyre

The Anatomy of Longing

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What if longing wasn’t a feeling—but a creature, a curse, and a companion?

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Longing is an ache - a deep pulsating ache,

relief is an effort, which the ache cruelly cripples

Throwing a single stone and troubling a silent lake,

creating countless circles - outspreading ripples

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Longing walks a road - a long and lonely road,

sighing with each indulgence, so delicious is the sin

Tired and exhausted, longing bears its heavy load,

pleasure is the gain, a new loss with every new win

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Longing is the steel - the cold and heavy steel,

it is shackled to my feet, my bloody, blistered feet

Birthing countless agonies, the wounds that never heal,

I am addicted to its taste; the poison is so sweet

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Longing is a fragrance - an old, faded fragrance,

it’s embedded in my soul, my oh so tired soul

It rides the autumn wind, a bold and cruel flagrance,

engraved are the words, regrets on a scroll

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Longing is a swan - a floating black swan,

it sings a lullaby, a soft and sad lullaby

It is here for a minute, and then it is gone,

haunted is the tone, its verses all wry

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Longing is the darkness - a fearsome looming darkness,

it heralds the final doom, the black and grey doom

It really is a curse, so vivid in its starkness,

fear fills the sky, and hope cannot bloom

The Clown who Fell in Love and lost his Laughter

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mo_clown_1_by_imustbedead_d7mutyg-fullview

He made the world laugh—until love took his laughter away.

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Let me tell you all a short and sad story,

a story so hilarious, yet so painful and gory

Let me tell you about a simple and good clown,

who just performed, and wasn’t interested in glory

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He worked in a famous and grand circus,

so grand, it made all a little bit nervous

The circus encompassed all entertainment,

having just one rhyme, and one single purpose

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The famed circus was just focused on fun,

ignoring all sadness, it was so fixated on pun

It abhorred all darkness in favor of bright light,

it chose to ignore the night; it worshipped the sun

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The clown was so happy, but only on the outside,

his eyes told the cruel truth, while his smile only lied

Riding the high waves of senseless mirth and joy,

his sadness was a hidden and silently breathing tide

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Masking his sadness with a smile so open and bright,

was something he had learnt just like a true knight

Being unhappy inside, yet always beaming with joy,

was an art he had practiced hard, each day and each night

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His act drew huge crowds, and it made people laugh,

being fired from a cannon, his act was only a gaffe

He flew across the pavilion, landing safely on a net,

the kind cannon, thankfully, did not cut him in half

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One day, while the clown was performing his act,

he saw a lovely vision, no dream but a glaring fact

She was an acrobat who swam gracefully in the air,

her magical eyes avoiding his, making no contact

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The clown grabbed his chest, lowering his guard,

about to explode, his heart throbbing so very hard

Unbeknownst to his senses, he had fallen in love,

but it wasn’t beautiful, the reality was all scarred

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He watched the girl for long, savoring her image,

vision overwhelmed, his senses taxing his courage

What to do and how to do? He thought so hard,

his sanity in wild chaos, all thoughts in scrimmage

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So many days had passed, she occupied his mind,

so many nights had passed, his fate was all signed

His heart was wrecked forever; there wasn’t a way,

love is neither a salvation nor is it always kind

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Then one fateful day, the clown decided to act,

approaching the girl bravely, he forgot all tact

‘I love you’ - he just blurted out the three words,

like he was just finishing the draft of a pact

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She looked at him for long and then laughed out loud,

‘I waited for love so long and ignored the whole crowd’

She looked at him with distaste and said the cruel words,

‘look how God punishes me for being so damn proud’

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‘A clown, He sends me?’ She looked up at the sky,

‘A clown, He sends me!’ She then started to cry

‘Why am I so unfortunate?’ She questioned herself;

‘Why a clown was to love me?’ She regretted with a sigh

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‘I love you and want to make you happy,’ he said;

‘I love you and want to save you from pain and dread

Don’t doubt my words, my love, for they are all true

I will serve and love you till I stop living, and fall dead’

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‘You will never stay by my side; I banish you forever ‘

She said after a while, in a steady voice, no single tremor

‘I cannot bear your ugly presence, I do not want you here,

‘I can never love you back - you may cry, or you may act clever’

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The clown just bent his head; he could not see a way,

but something just broke inside him that fateful day

The clown lost all his laughter; he lost all his smiles,

his face was still painted, the reds hiding the grey

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He started dying inside on that day and thereafter,

being neither ever wanted nor much sought after

And on his gravestone it is written, as I have heard,

‘Here lies the clown who fell in love and lost his laughter’

The Autumn Outside, and the Autumn Within

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A season that never ends.

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Outside, autumn reigns with colors of gold and rust,

walking in fancy colors, is really a sad, old whore

Within, the autumn stays forever, heaps of ash and dust,

it was born when I was born, will die when I’m no more

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Outside, there is a verdict, a cruel and harsh judgment,

unsolicited and uninvited, yet delivered firmly in the face

Within, there exists failure, dark, rotten, and repugnant,

it was born when I was born, will die when I quit the race

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Outside, there is refusal, a hard and cold rejection,

imparted cruelly, yet justified and utterly sensible

Within, there exists misery, a bitter and dark dejection,

it was born when I was born, will die as I am dispensable

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Outside, there is warmth, an almost useless affection,

a product of reciprocity, mere courtesy, and manners

Within, there is love - a brightly burning perfection,

it was born when I was born, will die with lowered banners

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Outside, there is sadness, and within it is always blue,

in perfect harmony, the weeping violin and the crying cello

Outside, the autumn reigns, and within, there is an autumn too,

were there when I was born, will fade as the ink turns yellow