Sic transit gloria hominis

Sic transit gloria hominis

A Poem by Beccy

I  wrote this in the mind's eye
whilst driving in my car,
so small beneath the paling sun
that seemed so very far;
and as the wheels kept spinning
from beginning, to the now,
I thought about and pondered 
both of the why and how.

That life is mostly mystery,
like why a wave seeks out the shore?
Instinctive knows it's resting place,
never thinks to ask for more.
How each and every species,
save us, knows naught of greed
and thus remain contented,
eschewing pointless need;
whilst we, though clever breathing
slip diminished through each day,
offering no angles to the wind,
mere liquid cast as clay.

For we are of suits and citadels,
clothed mostly in disguise,
whereas all others know this earth,
share its secrets without guise;
and never crave the spotlight,
false fortune, praise or fame,
or leave a disenchanted scar
to show the way they came.

And when the snow has covered,
fresh things will sniff the air,
new buds will bloom, mountains 
will rise and chart each day's affair;
whilst in the furthest reaches
we still seek the dark unknown,
but only by our little death
can it be ever shown. 

© 2019 Beccy


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I dont know how interesting this world would be without the human insight. Every other insight in this world is one of a primitive mind. I love nature, but see it through the eyes of a man, one who has to fight to maintain his existence. I get to write about it, love it, or destroy it. Those are our options.
For some odd reason we were given the chance to transcend, whether that decision was made by God, the universe, or the flying spaghetti monster in the sky, no one knows why. Surely a rat, when given the spark of intelligence, would surely act the same as we mud bags. But. But, we are capable of such beauty, such pain, such triumph, it is a prison of our own making. There is a way out, though most are content in the zoo. I get that. The question that bothers me the most is the one where we force our will on others to maintain some type of kind future utopia. If there is nothing after one slits their wrist, then maybe we are the catalyst for the destruction of this reality as the universe intended. The butt of the joke.

Sorry beccy, went on a tangent. Your fine verse does that to me sometimes.



Posted 3 Weeks Ago


Some very unique lines here, and a powerful message for the reader to contemplate.

Your poetry is a pleasure to read Beccy; subtle, but never obscure just for the arty crafty sake of it.

T.

Posted 1 Month Ago


Classical style Beccy which is closest to my heart. Your words, eloquent and carefully chosen flow like a stream and your rhyme so natural. Yes our species has much to answer for. We are the destroyers of the natural world. We are shameful in our approach. Your lines leave me with a sad taste in my mouth, that we are waking up too late to what we have done. Lovely work. Always such a pleasure to read you. You hit the spot every time.

Chris

Posted 1 Month Ago


You are waxing philosophical. So much truth and power in your words. Has a classic feel to it and that gave it another dimension. Man needs to wake up and smell the roses. I hope humanity won't nuke each other in the future when tempted.

Posted 1 Month Ago


Everything in nature is recycled, the animal kingdom is one of survival and I suppose resurrection of the species. How man fits in is quite a mystery, we abuse the land for greed, certainly take up too much room in it. We bury people and leave them for hundreds of years taking up precious land that nature could surely do better with. That was a party political broadcast on behalf of the Paul party.

Posted 1 Month Ago


Beccy

1 Month Ago

Let me know when; assuming you shuffle first, and are able to communicate across the void, and I'll .. read more
Paul Bell

1 Month Ago

Just putting myself in the blue bin for recycling.
You just pop along in your bin lorry. lol
I love the way this builds and moves out from the personal scene and thought to the grander scheme of things. It feels classical in that way, like the narrative follows a road and that road becomes ever more winding the further it stretches. The wisdom here is damning, but we need to feel that damning so that we feel moved to do more than stand on the side of the road and watch the wreck unfold. Waiting for the trained professionals to take care of the damage done.

Your observation that 'we are suits and citadels, / clothed mostly in disguise' is a line I will carry with me. It's so accurate and revealing, but also makes me think of how this might be remedied. That disguise is ingrained in human culture and necessitated by all of the other odd structures we have built in to our societies. Honesty and an open-eyed glare would be good for us to embrace.

This is excellent work, Beccy.

Posted 1 Month Ago


beautifully written and unique.

Posted 1 Month Ago


This is a very profound and thought provoking piece of writing Beccy. However I may avoid your stretch of road when your minds eye is composing the next one! Just joking. I believe your subject is the main focus of my own writing apart from some light relief of the sheep and cows nonsense. Our place on this earth is fragile and we are currently poised on the tightrope gazing down into the abyss. You have many superb images here such as 'suits and citadels.'
We need more of this!
All the best.
Alan


Posted 1 Month Ago



as far as poems go, this has got the bloomin lot... beautiful and clever say's I.... and tis still pouring outside..

Posted 1 Month Ago


An interesting take on man versus other species here. A good point is made. The less sophisticated beings live their lives simply, unquestioningly, while man's big brain keeps trying to find out everything, not always to the betterment of life. We may be too smart for our own, or the earth's, good.

Posted 1 Month Ago



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Added on October 13, 2019
Last Updated on October 13, 2019

Author

Beccy
Beccy

Northampton, Northamptonshire, United Kingdom



About
I'm forty two, single and have a lovely thirteen year old son called Charlie. I've been writing poetry and short stories since I can remember. I have always been an assiduous reader of poetry and real.. more..

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