O’ my heart, become stone
Introduction: This piece is about the current scenario in our society where people have lost their respect and their sympathy for their fellow beings. But the poet refuses to believe in these changes because his mindset is still attuned to the times when, people cared for each other. So he is a bit of anachronic of sorts. This poem is about the internal struggle of the man who is trying to make his heart, become akin to the new situation.
O’ my heart, become stone,
Why grieve over the impossible.
Times have long changed,
And now, so should you.
Our people have gone mad,
But please don’t cry.
For the sky is darkest,
Just before the dawn.
Why do you care?
If you find no helping hand.
Nor a pleasing word,
For I say again, the times have changed.
When madness scores over reason,
The result is there to see,
For when thoughts belie action,
The man is lost at sea.
The only thing left,
Is to cry and bemoan.
When no man wants to atone,
O’ my heart, become stone.
POST SCRIPT: This time, I have tried something new for my blog for we all know that variety is the spice of life. Don’t know what you will call it, but I call it PROSE POETRY. The classical poets might be turning in their graves, but am ready to take brickbats as well as accolades (if any).
Introduction: This piece is about the current scenario in our society where people have lost their respect and their sympathy for their fellow beings. But the poet refuses to believe in these changes because his mindset is still attuned to the times when, people cared for each other. So he is a bit of anachronic of sorts. This poem is about the internal struggle of the man who is trying to make his heart, become akin to the new situation.
O’ my heart, become stone,
Why grieve over the impossible.
Times have long changed,
And now, so should you.
Our people have gone mad,
But please don’t cry.
For the sky is darkest,
Just before the dawn.
Why do you care?
If you find no helping hand.
Nor a pleasing word,
For I say again, the times have changed.
When madness scores over reason,
The result is there to see,
For when thoughts belie action,
The man is lost at sea.
The only thing left,
Is to cry and bemoan.
When no man wants to atone,
O’ my heart, become stone.
POST SCRIPT: This time, I have tried something new for my blog for we all know that variety is the spice of life. Don’t know what you will call it, but I call it PROSE POETRY. The classical poets might be turning in their graves, but am ready to take brickbats as well as accolades (if any).
