I submitted this poem awhile ago for consideration in a poetry magazine. It was denied. I have submitted several now, and although none have been accepted, I will try again! I believe the magazine favors free verse poetry. This poem is not free verse poetry. It is called Everyman.
I once heard someone sigh
That you shouldn’t waste your time
That a pallor weighs the idle
Down with languid lack of rhyme
This speaker must have known
What men of burden do
That the urgent call of days
Blurs once vivid dreams
Out of real and rounded view
Fits us into hollowed shells
Of every tree
On every hill
In every wintry clime
I heard a man once stress
That extremes will shorten lives
That four disharmonious humors
Breed a man with stingy drives
This medic must have felt
What practice leads men to
That a need to breach frontiers
Stirs once tepid streams
Into rivers surging new
Thrusts us out of swallowed hells
From bended knee
From broken will
Where precious little thrives
I heard a scholar teach
That this life is fleeting waste
That entropy will cool all heat
Aspiration, love, and taste
This teacher can’t have seen
What angels know is true
That this dance of chemistry
Sews one's rended seams
As a manufactured clue
Draws us far and from ourselves
On bended knee
For broken will
So none are left erased.
I once heard someone sigh
That you shouldn’t waste your time
That a pallor weighs the idle
Down with languid lack of rhyme
This speaker must have known
What men of burden do
That the urgent call of days
Blurs once vivid dreams
Out of real and rounded view
Fits us into hollowed shells
Of every tree
On every hill
In every wintry clime
I heard a man once stress
That extremes will shorten lives
That four disharmonious humors
Breed a man with stingy drives
This medic must have felt
What practice leads men to
That a need to breach frontiers
Stirs once tepid streams
Into rivers surging new
Thrusts us out of swallowed hells
From bended knee
From broken will
Where precious little thrives
I heard a scholar teach
That this life is fleeting waste
That entropy will cool all heat
Aspiration, love, and taste
This teacher can’t have seen
What angels know is true
That this dance of chemistry
Sews one's rended seams
As a manufactured clue
Draws us far and from ourselves
On bended knee
For broken will
So none are left erased.
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