Jeff and Richard
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
When males are born, they have the chance to be
Men, toiling on a farm in sweat and muck,
Or fishing in the roiling waves the sea
Throws up to cause them misery, to chuck
Them into puking. Males are born in scores
Of billions—nothing happens. Then one comes
To change the world forever, flinging doors
So wide that ordinary fate succumbs.
Some men, a very few, go creeping through
The halls of palaces and bishops’ rooms.
A multi-billionaire takes in the view
From nearly outer space defying dooms
That other men endure as heroes, odds
Escaped. He thinks his armpits are as gods.
~ Phillip Whidden
