03-12-2013, 12:01 AM
Brand new at this, first poem! Don't mind honest, harsh criticism!
Steadfast pioneer, where now do you journey?
On this wandering path worn by souls and by scars;
You’ve given it all for the splendor of glory
Promised to those who strive for the stars.
Seeking the trophy, the idolized prize,
With athlete’s prowess, determined and focused.
Through the sweat and the toil, you raise jaded eyes
Olympiad gold taunts you to defeat every opponent.
Now seizing the chance which whispers of wealth—
The manager who sacrificed all to stand unhindered on top.
Forsaking even brothers with cunning and stealth—
The contest for riches leaving no room to stop.
Championed achiever, now all earth can be won.
At last, says the world, you have truly succeeded.
The masses will envy the task that you’ve done.
But is it as sweet as you had hoped it tasted?
The laborer, the dreamer, those searching for a thrill
For fleeting triumphs and the meaningless title.
Rivers all flow to a sea which never gets filled
While fickle wind blows in a halfhearted cycle.
Steadfast pioneer, was the prize worth the journey?
On that wandering path worn by souls and by scars;
Finally, you may bask in the frivolous sun’s glory
But the morning made your winnings fade like the stars.
Steadfast pioneer, where now do you journey?
On this wandering path worn by souls and by scars;
You’ve given it all for the splendor of glory
Promised to those who strive for the stars.
Seeking the trophy, the idolized prize,
With athlete’s prowess, determined and focused.
Through the sweat and the toil, you raise jaded eyes
Olympiad gold taunts you to defeat every opponent.
Now seizing the chance which whispers of wealth—
The manager who sacrificed all to stand unhindered on top.
Forsaking even brothers with cunning and stealth—
The contest for riches leaving no room to stop.
Championed achiever, now all earth can be won.
At last, says the world, you have truly succeeded.
The masses will envy the task that you’ve done.
But is it as sweet as you had hoped it tasted?
The laborer, the dreamer, those searching for a thrill
For fleeting triumphs and the meaningless title.
Rivers all flow to a sea which never gets filled
While fickle wind blows in a halfhearted cycle.
Steadfast pioneer, was the prize worth the journey?
On that wandering path worn by souls and by scars;
Finally, you may bask in the frivolous sun’s glory
But the morning made your winnings fade like the stars.