Spitting blood

I was spitting blood
In reality and dream alike
Through the bitter winds of winter
And when flowers opened their buds

Likewise was I empty-handed
When I entered the world unclothed
And I left it barefooted
Caught up in endless fight

What then was all this for?
On reflection I do not know
My place is not reserved
For those who heed a higher law

I never fathered a nation
Nor was I a bringer of peace
I never gave over life and love
To be an instrument of some greater hand

Glory to me was a fashion I could wear
Never did I hide on saying so
In death there were no songs to let me go
No grand gathering of mourners

Deep within life's unsolved mystery
Each of you still lives within my heart
I know I won’t remain in your minds

Reviews

[Allie]

This was very brilliantly worded, it left a clear message but with the mystery of a good writer being able to say a lot while saying little. My only criticism is that the end dropped off, I felt like there should be one more line.

[Sleeping Maiden]

Wow.. this is amazing! It's very thought-proking..
Brilliant style of writing!
Great job! =)

[Rhonda]

Great piece! I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. The juxtaposition of winter/spring, and a godliness/sinner mentality really tied this all together for me.

Cheers!

[Cathy Wattam]

I really like this Mark. Very thought-provoking. I love a poem that speaks to me and this does just that. Great write!

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

quite brilliant I love this! To me it had an old style to it and great wisdom from an old soul. Nice flow nice 4 line stanzas great depth just wow

100/100

[Wicked Jester]

very interesting,

Nice use of metaphors throughout.

I was expecting more violence, must be the title. lol

[J]

i've found your writing to reach a depth skillfully couched in metaphor that often troubles the mind and challenges one's imagination.

this piece speaks to me of war, and perhaps a bit political in the most subtle of terms, but truly an actualization of the way of the world. it feels melancholic, but also accepting, which [to me] is surprising -- the level of maturity displayed. but if indeed this concerns the scars left by war, then i am not surprised after all.

[Mockingbird]

i like how the narrator is content to have no attachments or recognition. just stating facts in poetic form. the end is tragic, though...perhaps regret at not having left any mark. excellent poem.