Success

Personal virtue stated as truth. AABB rhyme scheme, written in Iambic Pentameter.

Success

Success. The mere word I find disgusting,

Almost as empty as ‘tis condemning.

Provoking images of massive wealth,

Of a good job, nice car, and of good health.

But what of those who live in poverty?

Due to no fault of their own, certainly.

Or those who only want a simpler life?

One without the agony, pain, and strife.

Does an empty wallet, home, or garage,

Have to lead to some filthy, gross mirage,

Of a homeless man in a cardboard box?

Why must we think “Oh, having money rocks”?

Why can’t we grasp the concept that, maybe,

There is more to success than just money?

Such as fam’ly, acquaintances, or friends?

Vaults of mem’ries that seem to have no ends?

And what of friendship, its bond eternal?

All its feelings, inner and external?

To many, they don’t mean a goddamned thing,

When compared to a shining, golden ring.

I find the idea preposterous,

That one can claim to be and live prosp’rous,

When every night he lays ‘wake in bed,

Nearing forty-five, and still never wed.

Without any children to bear his name;

With wealth being his only call to fame.

In his garage, a shiny new red car,

In which he drives ev’ry night to the bar.

Where he raises glass and yells “Drinks on me!”

Then his “friends” give toast with their martini,

Down the drink, and ask for another two,

The reply: “Hell yeah, I always come through!”

Then ev’ry friend will leave, drunk off their mind.

And once more, at the bar’s close, he will find,

A revolutionary conclusion:

His “success” had been but an illusion.

Kicked out, he stumbles into his Lambo,

Trying an’thing to drown out his sorrow.

Swerving, vodka in hand, going one-ten,

He struggles to make it home once again.

Tears blend with liquor, running down his face.

His sole thought becomes finishing the race.

The tree comes up so fast, missed between drinks.

And his whole life flashes in just two blinks.

His thoughts drift to his former wife, Luanne.

He wonders if she’ll even give a damn.

And then he thinks of the son he left, Bill.

Wonders if he will come to read his will.

Then all the thoughts come crashing to an end,

As his very final breath he does spend.

And all that he wondered, all of his fears,

Come to be true; no-one shed any tears.

The names are fake, but the story is real;

When wealth is held as one’s only ideal,

And believed to be the key to success,

Well, then I hope that in peace they may rest.

Author's Note

Please give general feedback, and tell me what you think. Be honest!

Reviews

[Heather]

Ballsy move to go with iambic pentameter, especially to do with the different stresses that have to be on certain words. I haven't checked every single line, but it seems to fit, I can't see anything out of place. Even though you used a specific form, this poem doesn't seem forced, which is good aha. That last stanza is a great ending point, extremely powerful. I found this to be a good read, you should be proud, using a specific form can be hard, but you did it, and well. :)

[Crozby]

Thank you much! It was my first time writing in iambic pentameter outside of school, so I wasn't watching the syllable stresses too much. I really appreciate your feedback! It means a lot.

[Heather]

Yeah, it's a tricky one! You are welcome :)

[Great Aunt Astri]

I think this poem is well done. Rhymes are unstilted and meter seems to flow more or less as it should, and the message is very commendable. However, I think it could all be said with a few less verses, perhaps? But, nicely done.

[ROXANE DORSEY]

thank you for sharing your piece. i enjoyed reading it.

[Crozby]

Thank you for the read, I'm glad you enjoyed.

[Kailani]

This really highlights the unfortunate shallow view that society has towards success, like it has to fit into a certain mold of expectations and those who don't meet the standards are just pushed aside and disregarded. This poem is super polished and vivid, it sums up the idea really well with accurate points.

[Norah]

Your creativity amazes me. I am not sure on the meaning although I have tried

[Crozby]

"When wealth is held as one’s only ideal,
And believed to be the key to success,
Well, then I hope that in peace they may rest."

I believe that wealth, more particularly materialism, kills the wielder; inside, if not out. Thank you for the kind words and the read!

Peace,
Crozby

[London]

I literally am in awe. This is art and it packs a hard punch, it delivers a message which definitely needs to be brought up. This is Literally so cool I can't write anything with this kind of message.

[Cœur]

I'm going to get to the point, the way you wrote was beautiful. I enjoyed the poem itself and the words, but the style was beyond it. It was maybe a little long to get your point across, but you had my attention nevertheless.

[Crozby]

Thank you, and I agree. This was one of, if not my, first major piece, and I strived for a bit too much. Thank you for the kind words.

[Suhd]

Powerful. Sad. Great effort in binding it so well!

[Kloe]

This poem brings me to tears every time, and you have so much potential. The way you write is amazing and I hope you never stop!

[Sebastian Romero]

I am no expert in this type of poetry, where there are such rules as syllables and rhymes. I don't read a lot of that kind of poetry, I'll be honest. Usually, the rhymes distract me from the message, but what I have to say and applaud you for it, is that that doesn't happen here. Here, you read the poem as if it were a normal poem, and the rhyme and the syllables gives rhythm and a sort of ethereal aesthetic or feel to it, so thank you for this! It changed the way I'll read that type of poetry from now on :)

[Crozby]

Thank you very much, and I'm glad I can help! While rhyming poetry can be sloppy, it can also create for a very smooth, and almost suspenseful read. I'm happy to have opened your mind to another genre of beauty.