Sunday, March 21, 2010

World Poetry Day



There is a certain sadness I feel in seeing an empty playground. It seems to have become a vestige of a bygone era...

Summer is upon us and the school year is about to end and yet I don't see very many children filling the outdoors with their contagious giggles and laughter. Gadgets, high-tech toys and computer games seem to have truly redefined the way children play. I have nothing against keeping up with the times but the old-fashioned part of me still believes strongly in the most elementary forms of play.

Ahh, such is life. No one can stop the hands of time. All we can do is hope for the best and pray for the rest.

As we celebrate World Poetry Day, I dedicate the poem below to children all over the globe. May you all grow in love and peace and see the goodness in this world that the Almighty Father has created.

For Play's Sake
© 2010 Julie Ann Caringal

Squeak, squeal goes the swing
in the heat of the early afternoon sun.
The playground was nursing a broken wing
for it was deserted, empty, and without any fun.

The wind tried its best to be of help
by blowing some life to the merry-go-round.
It went spinning and turning in circles for a while
but the movement was slow and without a sound.

The slide also felt down and disappointed
with the lack of adrenaline rush and thrill,
while the monkey bars wept and cried
for existing as an unconquered metal hill.

The see-saw bobbed up and down
as if saying, "How do you do?"
to the men and women, once children,
who came for their final adieu.

Live and let live -
savor your youth.
Don't remember and regret
what time and tide will not soothe.

Hide and seek, take a peek,
and true treasure you shall find.
For this haven holds for you
a happiness that is one-of-a-kind.

4 comments:

  1. Hey! I found a poem that I wrote when I was in eighth grade. It has a similar contemplative nature, albeit a little more juvenile. :)

    The Oak Tree
    by David M.

    One day, I walked through a barren field
    Kites were being flown, fishing poles reeled

    Children were swimming in the elegant lake
    Elders gathering leaves with rake

    One morn those who dwelled by the plain had a fair
    A tree was planted in the range so bare

    Children in that tree would climb
    Parents marvel at the branches sublime

    Boards being hammered, with clamp and nail
    Branches careened by an autumn gale

    Lovers carving initials in heart
    A picture a display of caring in art

    Children on tires from branches swinging
    Couples just married hearing wedding bells ringing

    Stars twinkling with light so dim
    Children camping upon a limb

    Then one day the tree grew no more
    It fell like a ladder on a hardwood floor

    I walked again through the same open field
    The tree was gone and never to be healed

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi, David!

    Thanks for sharing your own poem. :) It's a good one. We all start somewhere, do we not?

    ReplyDelete
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    ReplyDelete
  4. Hello there, Lydia! Thank you for your kind words. I'll definitely check out the website you recommended. Have a good one!

    ReplyDelete


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