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Hubris
A man who thought he would fly,
got too close to the sun,
set the ancient example
that’s told to everyone.
A ship that they claimed never
would sink beneath the waves,
until a looming iceberg
sent folks to frozen graves.
A man who thought his troopers
could whip all Indians,
died at the Little Bighorn,
one man could not kill ten.
A candidate the news thought
impossible to beat,
oh, the moans we hear the night
she met a sound defeat.
A Soviet hockey team
that hadn’t lost before,
feared not, ’till our college kids
went ahead in the score.
A president who proclaimed
that now the Earth would heal,
instead turned to race-baiting,
a messiah not real.
A general who ordered
the charge at Gettysburg,
hundreds dead striking up hill...
should have heard Longstreet’s words.
A writer who thinks that his
poem might just be great,
but the autorank declares
that he just doesn’t rate.
Northing ventured, nothing gained;
it’s a good sentiment…
but how do we duck hubris,
yet keep our confidence?
Where’s the line?
Copyright ©
David Welch
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