"Immobilized, limbs, heads in chains,
since childhood locked in mortal pains,
eyes gaze upon a wall enthralled,
while soul and mind remain controlled.
Behind their backs a fire burns
and puppeteers walk in turns,
they carry plants and other things;
some speak or sing, pulling the strings.
The shapes cast shadows on the wall,
the captives watch the shadows crawl,
they hear the echo, not the sound--
that's all they're given underground.
Since none can make a move or turn
this is the only way they learn,
trying to give a shape a name
which looks to us a painful game."
Is all this just a story, bleak,
designed by minds vile and unique?
In caves like this mankind's confined,
volition's weak, souls rotting blind,
where puppeteers walk in turn
and make us all believe we learn.
A contest entry
- TEN THOUSAND POINTS OF RHYME (Now 20,000+) Part 8 Sad/Nostalgia by cricketjeff.
1500 points, ended January 24, 2008, 51 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Thank you for your entry in our contest, it was very dark and a pleasure to read.
Please consider putting entries in our future contests, we would be pleased to consider them.
Sue and Jeff
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Thank you very much indeed! I don't usually rhyme my poems, but when I do I try to do it properly.
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hehe amen - wish my grade 5 science teacher could read this..
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Thank you, dear; in fact this is my poetic version of Plato's Allegory of the Cave.
Take care!
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