When Greatness Never Comes
From childhood I dreamt
of doing wondrous things,
stringing together an
unending, unbreakable
necklace of words, gold-
toned sounds feeding
meaning to my readers,
like food to the famished.
I grew bolder: I would create
word-mountains in the reader's
mind, words that would never die,
but those words were all stillborn.
Years, decades went by.
I grew fat and happy with
wife and family and friends.
Finally, with defiance at the
caprice called Fate, who parcels
out talent by her whim alone,
I said, "So be it! I'll never touch
Shakespeare's toe, nor ruffle
Dickens' collar-- I'll never even
get to tickle silly Ezra Pound."
I'm anonymous, and so too
are you, most likely....
And that is all right, because
as a young man, you see,
my soul came to me-- oh yes,
my soul came quietly to me,
and whispered, I exist forever,
without a start, without an end,
a mockery of time.Then it teased,
"Now fit THAT into your mind,
into your body ever so brief,
just a breath of flesh really."
Things that come,
come in their own way.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
