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

[Hayley]

Well, of course you pulled me in with the first stanza, as I cannot resist the image of blood and winter with flowers (my favorite). The second stanza explores the coming and going of life, so pure at the beginning without knowledge, but with knowledge comes the "endless fight." There is no rebirth like the first.
As a commoner, a general person, a life seems so expendable. I get that from the fourth stanza, and when you say "In death there were no songs to let me go, No grand gathering of mourners." The bitterness shows its face at the end line, tying in perfectly with the opening stanza.
"Each of you still lives within my heart
I know I won't remain in your minds"
A strong statement in itself. The juxtaposition of the heart and the mind, carefully chosen words.
The blood signifies, to me, the purging of the soul, the mind with the realization.
For some reason the famous Shakespearean line "To be or not to be, that is the question" comes to mind. Phenomenal work!

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

I seriously like your style. It's exceptionally well fitted in the tradition of existential angst.

[Tim Lion]

We're just passing through this life, aren't we?

But I believe our souls are sedimentary beings; tiny living pieces of everything we've sensed, and everyone we've known stick to us like barnacles.

This poem has now become a lovely little piece of what I am.

Thanks.

t

[Emily B]

there are folks who come and go, they make poems, fashion them out of clay, and pass them off for something more

and then there are the poets, who breathe the words, who voice the soul

looking forward to reading more of you

[lei]

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

... deep verse..

[AmandaN]

I love the way you use words here,subtle but powerfully so. Particularly like verses 3 and 4. Thanks.

[..]

Quite an intriguing write, time goes on without us. We must set our sails and see what comes. Dreams are wonderful, but reality is much sweeter, and harder to strive for. I love the pondering notions within your intriguing write.