Mortal among the Immortals
I am a mortal; but a speck in the analog of time;
seeking to join immortals of poetry and rhyme.
They used well chosen words; to elicit untold fame
stringing them together; to leave a lasting name.
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Browning, Poe; and Milton, none of their work lost
nor Tennyson, and Dickinson; Wordworth or Frost.
Such great writer’s one and all; read with much envy;
I cannot possess their genius; it simply isn’t in me.
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I long to write such works of art; and timeless pieces;
leaving words behind when read; inspiration increases.
Bryron and Thoreau I bow to your impressive verses;
Even though on this day; my heart within me curses.
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I will continue my prose and verse; although it is in vain;
I shall never be immortal; among the unknown I remain.
I’m standing in the shadow of the immortal poet‘s light;
My works not as read as theirs; but continuing to write.
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