Originality what is thy face?
Hiding behind a mask, are you not but the same as all of us?
Striving in the play of life to be recognized and remembered
Putting on an act, to be something else
If too different, ridiculed and shunned
Too much the same, then ignored and forgotten
Ah, but this is a fine balancing act indeed
Let me take off the mask
Would I be accepted?
One could not look into the face of Medusa without turning to stone
Only by reflection can she be seen and defeated
Does man wish to become a god, but even then in human form?
Does not Odin himself go in disguise?
Is it our wish to become immortal?
To leave some part of us behind in the memories of time?
Are we not but passing sparks in Prometheus' fire?
Some great act to perform to be remembered
Oh but who to please?
Should, like Paris the baser desires be chosen, to steal what is not our own?
In our immediate need to please, do we not provoke a war beyond our scope?
Should we use deciet like Odysseus to obtain vicory and acceptance?
Or tis more noble to be true and rejected, awaiting approval by history?
No, the secret lies in Odysseus name “the son of pain”
It is out of our misery, the pain of rejection, that we are remembered
To be hung on a tree and pierced by a spear like Christ or Odin
Remembered as not only the superman but every man
The sacrifice of the common man
Ah, but too big a risk, I shudder
Safer to play the part and then be forgotten
-
Author:
sorenbarrett (
Offline) - Published: March 7th, 2023 06:21
- Comment from author about the poem: Odrorir is the cauldron from which mead is drunk producing poetry. Odin drank from it and gave 18 charms, the 18th charm never being revealed
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, Bella Shepard
Offline)
Comments5
Started life with a classical education,, Soren?
I'd vote to play the part to the best of my ability, maybe to mitigate the mess the world and it's stupidities is in right now, but to be remembered? Why? It won't mean at thing to the 'me' which doesn't exist any more.
So in substantial agreement here.....I think.......
I agree Dave but it seems that there are many that have this urge to be immortal or at least leave a Piece of themselves behind. No Dave, had a public education but decided that it lacked a little so have done some reading on my own.
(forgive me I could not resist
trying to offer a feeble poetic reply
to this, most resplendent poetic inquisition of our zest for legacy;
Brilliant!)
Penelope's bravery, belittled
to status of 'aged wife'
in Tennyson's, Ulysses
Her husband, chosen as poetic
legacy by a Homeric
antiquity, now deemed mythology
that forgotten biography
of Poetry's, Epic ancestry.
Aside, Socrates
with fervent French scholary, antics
reducing him to mere fantasy
While Yeats, sang of Byzantium
immortality, to overcome
old age's, inevitability...
Many dreaming of that
'great perhaps'
where we look upon breath
from beyond tendrils of hurt n ache
as stars
in our idyllic, posterity forms
is it folly?
or a design of Nature's intellect
where we dream fantastic
while experiencing a reality, frantic
chaotic
that deity universality, in all
that we see
maybe,
once we pass that 6ft divide
Time itself will deem us worthy
of our idolised fantasies
yet, more likely
we're merely, fooling ourselves
in trying to pilfer hope from death's
overwhelming, finality...
So true L.B. this is why I always look forward to your remarks. You have captured it so well the last two lines says it all. We flail like a drowning man in our fear of death but to no avail only preserving us an instant longer from the inevitable. I bow to your masterly knowledge and poetic charm to which I would like to consider myself a pupil. Thank you for the read
I think in the end it is only natural to wonder what, if any effect we've had on life. If we have truly lived every moment and given the best of who we are, we will be remembered by those who matter most. And if others remember us it will be for what we gave, perhaps unknowlingly. This is such a wonderful contemplation on the nature of being my friend.
Thank you so much Bella for the read and wonderful comments. Yes we all reflect, some more than others. This came to mind as I was reading about so many, in history, that have dedicated their lives to making their names last forever. As we know no ones name lasts forever.
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