Here hubris and humility come face-to-face
At a catercorner where the mirror and a window stand.
Whence should I turn
to the place where my warts be revealed?
Or to the other?
to gloat over another man’s sores.
The humility that is, seeks me.
Rebuffed though by the hubris I want.
The aliens’ chortle jar my ears.
Those who took our factory space.
This land is ours.
Every engine that sweetly purrs.
Cogs and wheels from our forefathers’ hands
when savage men were swept away.
A little about me and poetry
This poem is my submission to the School Poetry 100 Day Challenge hosted by @d-pend, whom I would like to thank for sponsoring this competition. He is indeed a godsend. Though a bit dubious, I would consider myself an intermediate writer of poetry. My first love is prose, so if you get a feel of something other than verse in my poetry that is why. I use poems to assist me when I have writer’s block. This strategy, however, seems to be morphing into something more serious. At least I think so.
Thanks for reading.