Ode to Alexander

They say he cried, the great king, when
He marched upon his journey’s end.
To live but once, and yet to know
There’s so much further man could go.

I’m sure twas no one could console
That mighty, strong, and broken soul.
When worlds and worlds he gazed to see,
And knew at once what could not be.

If he’d fallen upon his sword,
Our mighty, strong, and broken lord,
Would any dare to give him blame?
To lay a curse upon his name?

Do we not walk beside him now?
Our dreams falling like leaves from boughs?
Is hope that’s crushed not hope that dies?
Should tears then come as a surprise?

I would weep as the man so great,
Knowing at last what was my fate.
Greatness wanes and heroes do cry.
Dreams fade when you open an eye.


I Travel Alone

I travel alone. I walk through the streets.
No man is my master, no one I meet.
My feet carry me through the cool night air,
With my companion who’s not really there.
How wondrous the nature, how blessed man,
That body and mind can walk hand in hand.

We walk through the town, my ally and I.
With each step I take I let my mind fly
To faraway places, faraway lands,
By oceans with beaches of pure white sands.
Never quite stranded, the two of us are,
A fanciful mind can take one quite far.

How sad it must be for beasts of the land
That they have no one to take by the hand.
Can man be alone with this wondrous prize?
Do other minds drift and take to the skies?
I can not perceive, and I may never
know if there’s others who are so clever.

But this I’m assured, no man walks alone.
No woman, or child, or babe leaves home
without one beside them all of their life.
To be there through good times, bad times, and strife.
How wondrous the nature, how blessed man,
That body and mind can walk hand in hand.



Ride on, ride on, majestic steed.
Greatest of all amongst your breed.
Woodman’s steed and child of lies,
Leading the hunt that never dies.

One wonders how you even run?
Thee brilliant beauty, noble dun.
Legions of legs propel you still,
You do avoid a hapless spill.

Oh horse of horses, colt divine,
Galloping on, god on your chine.
Much forgotten, fading away.
Few there are who want you to stay.

Stay for me Sleipner. Be my guide.
Bend low your back so I can ride.
Carry me Sleipner, lo I plead.
Let me be master and you steed.


Michael Rovner is a poet and musician living in Chicago.

Featured Image: Statue of Alexander the Great riding Bucephalus and carrying a winged statue of Nike (square of Alexander the Great) in Pella city. (Wikimedia Commons).

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