Turn to Stone by Michael Anderson
A child peers deep through the sky.
A twinkle gleams across his eye.
Dire ambition lost in a stare-
Where even imagination wouldn't dare.
A world, his own to perceive,
Suddenly seems more than just make believe;
Or trees or flowers, sands and stars,
Colors and shapes, or candy bars.
Realization, the first fatal step persists,
Acknowledgment that life, itself, exists.
Luring us to explore, senses fulfill,
Till we derive at thoughts and hope and will.
Refuting a world where we could safely dwell,
Watching it slowly fade under this spell.
In the ashes of sleep, a glowing ember,
Till it's just a dream we don't remember.
Passion calls for the sacrifice,
Innocence is the going price.
Knowledge, the fruit curiosity gains.
Reality is all that remains.
Emotions arise in spiritual bemuse-
Of Antiquity and her outdated views.
For the spirit of life with youth is bold.
You just never see it until you're old.
Candor, the last hope of paradox,
Tightens the chains and clasps the locks-
Which bind us into this realm of life,
Imprisoning the soul in shackles of strife.
With anguish and pain, heartache and remorse.
Disease and death to follow in due course.
Where a daydreaming child is certainly prone-
To blink his eyes and simply turn to stone.
A twinkle gleams across his eye.
Dire ambition lost in a stare-
Where even imagination wouldn't dare.
A world, his own to perceive,
Suddenly seems more than just make believe;
Or trees or flowers, sands and stars,
Colors and shapes, or candy bars.
Realization, the first fatal step persists,
Acknowledgment that life, itself, exists.
Luring us to explore, senses fulfill,
Till we derive at thoughts and hope and will.
Refuting a world where we could safely dwell,
Watching it slowly fade under this spell.
In the ashes of sleep, a glowing ember,
Till it's just a dream we don't remember.
Passion calls for the sacrifice,
Innocence is the going price.
Knowledge, the fruit curiosity gains.
Reality is all that remains.
Emotions arise in spiritual bemuse-
Of Antiquity and her outdated views.
For the spirit of life with youth is bold.
You just never see it until you're old.
Candor, the last hope of paradox,
Tightens the chains and clasps the locks-
Which bind us into this realm of life,
Imprisoning the soul in shackles of strife.
With anguish and pain, heartache and remorse.
Disease and death to follow in due course.
Where a daydreaming child is certainly prone-
To blink his eyes and simply turn to stone.
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Rating: N/A |
I was walking by a school playground when I stopped to write this piece. I was taken aback by children at play who had no idea unemployment was up, no idea the country was about to go to war, and no concept of the cold realities that lie ahead in their very near future. I felt many emotions witnessing them at play, most of all envy.
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The poem has real meaning. The way it is written is excellent! - Ally |
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Your writing is some of the best I have had the pleasure of reading. Testimo - Cat |
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I really like this poem, because of the fact that I so much identify with it. I've come to realized that life ain't what I thought it was a few years ago. As the days go by, I become more certain of it, and I also envy children's innocence, for they don't know what's really waiting for them in the other side of life. - Viarda |
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I really like this poem! It made me think! You can't say that about many poems. - Andrea |
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this is a good poem, you really wrote it from the heart. - Rayshonia |
