On Words of a Poet
When i was young, my parents gave me this poem in a large poster that took up the side of my wall. I didn’t understand it and thought it was really …, weird. My surprise came where in my late forgetfulness of age when i found myself staring at the poem in my book of the 100 greatest poems and tearing up.
If – Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with wornout tools;If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run –
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!
The words that strike, hot as the cast of a newly forged sword can pierce the heart faster than the most blighted of lead encased copper jacket. I never did like the end, I believed it could have ended better. The poem also cannot be read out loud, it loses something immediately and completely. It however, is still perfection of purpose, which can only find one rival in my mind:
Invictus – William Ernest Henley. 1849–1903
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
I found Invictus by myself. It more than ends well, it should be read slowly and strongly and in my mind, it always ends with a fist in the sky; screamed at the top of the lungs in as much defiance as one can muster.
I don’t stare at these poems, nor do i have them hanging anywhere. I also do not have them memorized, and yet, now you know something more about me; and i share them with you.
OceansOfThought @ March 17, 2008
I agree, the first poem’s ending is kind of cheesy. The second is quite nice though, I’ve never read that one before. I do believe I’ll add it to my own small collection of poems.
One of my favorites is of course the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, I find my own life paralleling his, that of half-cursed soul that learns a lesson and feels the need to share one’s story with any who will listen. another favorite of mine is “SansAlbatross”, written by me (obviously) and posted in quarter bits on my site as the parts were completed. I’ll be posting it in it’s entirety later this spring when I resume writing along with the accompanying artwork; I’d like to invite you to read a little about me as well.
I would enjoy reading the finished poem, and thank you for your continued thoughtful insights and comments.