Upon the Stage*

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

When people plant the rice in paddies, wade

With wider steps among the mud thick rows,

The men make wider strides as they evade

Too many footsteps in the field.  The toes

And soles squelch puny footprints in the earth.

The village head man treads a larger print

Perhaps but not much bigger.  It is not worth

Much more than smaller ones,  He leaves no hint

(Not really) of importance.  Then the flow

Of water widens them as time goes by.

This happens with our heroes whom we grow

To myth proportions.  Facts need not apply.

  Ten million of us come and go.  So what?

    We leave no mark that stays despite our strut.

*Hold in your mind while you read this sonnet that the character speaking those words in Shakespeare’s Macbeth was a liar, a murderer, a traitor—and a coward and ninny—when it came to dealing with his wife).  However, keep in mind that the man who wrote those words (AND 156 sonnets) was a giant among men in his own lifetime and grew to be totally gigantic in history so that he does not need to be mythologized).