Where It All Went Wrong

All gathered to behold the first flourish of his wings,
As he stood on the fringes, a mere boy of three,
Amid goodbyes and nervous smiles, and frenzied activity,
For, before him towered the revered Theatre of Dreams!

So began School, in all its wondrous awe, amid faces and dreams anew,
Among rhymes and numbers, some smiling strangers; Mondays and exam blues,
And fears that flickered, tears that blossomed, into carefree, exuberant laughter,
With friends, and games, it was his second Home, the perfect runaway shelter.

Here he built, his very own Camelot, across once foreign frontiers,
And the quests went on, as did the pranks and laughs, for several dreamy years,
And while the world'd snooze to Night's sweet tunes, he'd tiptoe into the starlight,
And the Gods swooned, while the Moon blushed, as the poet sang to his heart's delight.

But the familiar smiles, then dwindled amid, glaring, grimacing professors,
Tomes thrown at him, soulles formulae, and piles of worthless papers,
So his head hung low, and his shoulders slumped, under the incessant onslaught,
As they stifled the poet, and his words ran dry, amind dreary, scattered thoughts.

He'd stay up till hours, abandoned, alone, ink smeared all over his pale face,
His eyes bleary, his fingers numb, as he'd mug up ponderous pages,
Of cavalry attacks, and valiant martyrs, wars and bloodlusty crusades,
Who pulled the strings, how they'd won in all, and hollow, exalted facades.

While they'd dream of a prodigy, in the limelight, rattling the world off its feet,
Of a groundbreaking scientist, moulding young minds, cementing his glorious legacy,
So they disposed of his novels, every verse and every scribble, ignoring his desperate cries,
They slaughtered his dreams, as he played his final verses, and the poet in him died.

The nights felt cold, he'd spend sleepless hours, mourning his lost identity,
Clawing the thin ice, squirming for respite, haunted by an inflamed insecurity,
His grades took the blow, as he struggled to fit in, amid the curses and the jeers,
So they enrolled him for tuitions, every other evening, lest he fail to catch up with his peers.

The laughs now sobered, while the pranks mellowed, into reserved exchanges with strangers,
A lone escapist, captured and chained, among aspiring engineers and doctors,
Battered and bruised, he'd lunge in circles, down viscous well trodden streets,
To finally bury his battle-weary bones, stenching of futility, of defeat.

In chambers, that bleed suicidal tears, within polished, saffron walls,
In this godforsaken hole, he now calls Home, in gloomy, foreign halls,
Amid million dollar books, and problem solving strategies, whimpers a homesick teen,
Shoved among rats, he must outrun; all cogs in a Commercial Machine.

Now seventeen, he confronts the fringes, amid shattered Utopian Walls,
His tear stained eyes, search the wilderness, veiled by the looming nightfall,
Memories flare, as he whispers farewell, to the Home where he once belonged,
As he prepares to plunge, into the vast uncertainty, wondering where it all went wrong...

Reviews

[barleygirl]

You have a big fan in Esther becuz she's read-requested me on several of your poems. This one is a great story with depth & smoldering intensity. It's a commentary on how school can extinguish the flame of creativity as it trains students to become good at taking tests. Your way of saying this is a little long & drawn out, not direct, but still a powerful message. I love the way you show how excited the kid is, starting school at first. I also love the ending, which gives off a relatable feeling of not knowing what to do next in life (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[PurpleMuse]

Here he built, his very own Camelot, across once foreign frontiers,
And the quests went on, as did the pranks and laughs, for several dreamy years,
And while the world'd snooze to Night's sweet tunes, he'd tiptoe into the starlight,
And the Gods swooned, while the Moon blushed, as the poet sang to his heart's delight.

That's so beautiful.

[Onlyme]

Great poem that was engrossing from start till end. Great images, nice insights and entertaining on top.

[Kate]

Beautifully written poem, well done.