I Do Not Know Tragedy

Birds sing so beautifully in my dreams,

yet, as the sun creeps into my window

I find that upon my wakening their tunes only screech

as the rivers of sunlight drown the night.

 

The light of night stars once poured on me like waterfalls

and as a child I believed them to be magical-

but I soon learned that there was an explanation for their glow

and now I know that they are only balls of heated gas

that are not meant to last an eternity.

 

There was a time when I saw weeds as flowers,

tiny little clusters that dressed the beds of soil

covering the bland brown ground to paint a portrait of perfection,

but then my mother told me what I could not see;

that these weeds I was meant to detest and lay to rest

so that flowers leaves could spread.

 

At a younger age the sea appeared to be endless,

unbound by lands fences that caged me in.

Upon the knowledge of the illusion I cried,

wondering why nature was so deceiving.

My grief fell from my eyes and into the tide

as I turned my back on the beautiful sight,

telling myself that the beauty was only a lie.

 

Then came the day when I felt old,

my age made me feel cold

because each passing season brought reason

that doubted my imagination,

my education crushed my dreams.

The world seemed dead and plain,

it was so boring to be sane.

But then my sadness drained from my strained veins

upon the realization that this life was my own.

 

I could think what I like about the stars in the night sky.

Weeds could be beautiful

despite being shadowed by perfectionist petals.

Birds sounded dead in the day-

but I had endless nights to dream of the lyrics

they would recite upon the coming of morning

(though only heard for a moment),

and the sea could be as free as it liked,

extending its tide even into the sky. 

Reviews

[Undying Glory]

this was really wonderful work, just great. this was so beautiful and good, and absolutely vivid. those first 3 stanzas were really picturesque and surreal, and the contrast with hard reality in the fourth made this one better in my opinion. that last stanza reminded me of that epic painting "Starry Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh. you've written brilliantly here, so keep it up!!!
i always share this quote, because it's so true!
"Every child is an artist. The problem is remaining an artist when we grow up." - Pablo Picasso
epic work!!

[MaryP]

Brilliant poem. Unfortunately it was very relevant for me; I'm reaching that stage in life when the world seems to lose its magic and your words captured the moment perfectly. But I think the poem does seem to have a subtle optimism- that we can find the magic, we just have to look harder for it as we get older.
Anyway, GREAT write, I really enjoyed it.

[KAREN]

Beautiful! Made me feel like a kid at first! You have a wonderful way with words.