greatness

A Poem by winter;lyra

dear poet,
dear philosofer,
dear schollar,
and he of the third domain
my quest for greatness ends
as soon as it begins
my land extends from south to north but rots in between
my stature
my statue
my kingdom
reigns itself along the centuries
and
it erects castles and crushes empires after my death

i am the written dream of a bed ridden king at the doors of his death
alas
i dare to say
if not too gray
that i may be the parody of death
the satire
of life
of a neverending virtual cycle of meaningless struggle
but poet, philosofer, schollar, and you of the third domain
what right do we, as immortal beings who transcend the laws of time if carefully tended to, have to complain
truth
reality
may become... minor... to he of the minor realm
for what will a groundstuck penguim reiterate his inability to fly?
for what?
when our penguim children may live in world where flying penguins may happen
if you flap your tiny wingies enough that is
oh but am i again out of place?
pardon my inadequacy, my sad lack of the understanding the
"Complex Human Condition"

© 2016 winter;lyra

My Review

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Reviews

Coyote Poetry

I liked the flow of thoughts and questions raised in the poem. The world seem to have went mad and I asked often. Where are the peace-keepers, poet and men of peace. I liked the complete poem. You made the reader think and ponder. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

Posted 7 Years Ago

Gee

Let me tell you this winter me ol' china, greatness is a burden few of us can ever manage. I have suffered the weight from an early age and am now more stooped than Mr Stoop from Stoophampton. Count yer blessings...

Posted 7 Years Ago

7 Years Ago

Aye I gave up on chasing greatness some time ago - little me actually dreamt of becoming the greates.. read more

7 Years Ago

I dreamt solely of people not mistaking English as my second language, anything after that was and i.. read more

Tony Jordan

"I am the written dream of the bed ridden king at the doors of his death..." - love this kind of phrasing - it's unforgettably lyrical, Winter.

And...I can't get the flying penguin out of my mind's eye now.

you write in calligraphy - huge sweeping loops and overall a very pleasing aesthetic. I like coming here to see the spectacle.
Keep writing friend.