Array ( [sid] => 177706 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The gift of a present delight [time] => 2014-02-02 16:41:13 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Within all perception is doors to the imagination.
Like a gilded rose on the city streets.
Growing for attention.
Longing for heights unattainable for most common flowers.
Reaching for beauty in the cracked sidewalks of reality.

These doors, these walls are built on the passions of escaping the clutches of logic.
To break free of the classified, to go past what definition perceives.
Where logic threads our roads, fantasy is our silver lining.
Our flight from the mundane.
Our view past the city walls of straight fact of fiction.

Once we lose the magic we become the tools of the suppressed.
Systematically set to destroy the visions of others dreams.
We hunt the open minds, longing in conflict for forced opinions.
Bashing what one may think of world on which they live.
Only thinking on the paths that others should follow.

Is it the future to be void of wonder.
Walking down roads already set by others.
Creating goals designed by our peers standards.
Following false roads of gold, pretending them to be tangible.

Can we get past our stubborn points of view.
Only following textbook guidelines, forgetting that those words were written by others to classify the ordinary.
Tomorrow is only that, a word shared for better days.
While forgetting the magic of today.
The gift of a present delight. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 423 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lostrelic [notes] => Edited per request in Poem Edit and Deletion Requests Moderator_18 Feb 2, 2014 [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - The gift of a present delight


The gift of a present delight
Date: Sunday, 2nd February 2014 @ 04:41:13 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: lostrelic
Within all perception is doors to the imagination.
Like a gilded rose on the city streets.
Growing for attention.
Longing for heights unattainable for most common flowers.
Reaching for beauty in the cracked sidewalks of reality.

These doors, these walls are built on the passions of escaping the clutches of logic.
To break free of the classified, to go past what definition perceives.
Where logic threads our roads, fantasy is our silver lining.
Our flight from the mundane.
Our view past the city walls of straight fact of fiction.

Once we lose the magic we become the tools of the suppressed.
Systematically set to destroy the visions of others dreams.
We hunt the open minds, longing in conflict for forced opinions.
Bashing what one may think of world on which they live.
Only thinking on the paths that others should follow.

Is it the future to be void of wonder.
Walking down roads already set by others.
Creating goals designed by our peers standards.
Following false roads of gold, pretending them to be tangible.

Can we get past our stubborn points of view.
Only following textbook guidelines, forgetting that those words were written by others to classify the ordinary.
Tomorrow is only that, a word shared for better days.
While forgetting the magic of today.
The gift of a present delight.

This poem is Copyright © lostrelic


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