Conclusion

 There is nothing in me great -
like Bonaparte's horse and shoe;
I am meant to bear the weight
of those who think and dare and do.
There is nothing in me great.   The outcome's clear now
as I wait, anticipating death and date;
I stand before the truth and bow -
acknowledge what I know too late.
There is nothing in me great.  

One poor poet's life, undone;
a few poor poems for you to rate;
where I see genius, you see none,
and you are not the only one.
There is nothing in me great.

J.D.Heskin

If you have any comments on this poem, J.D.Heskin would be pleased to hear from you.