The Greatest Poem in the World

Account of the writing and loss of a great poem.

I sat me down to write the greatest poem

The mind of man can furnish

For man is lost and only I could show him

In words so fine and burnished

The way to truth beyond his worldly learning

That he may follow if he be discerning.

 

And ev’ry word I wrote rang true as steel

They pulsed and glowed and breathed

They raised the veil that shields us from the real

The sword of truth unsheathed

That had lain in its scabbard since the garden

Of knowledge that’s forbidden without pardon.

 

Alas that such a work could so soon perish

Never read by mortal man

A poem such as this his soul would nourish;

He must get by as he can

Without it, for this work is unrecorded

The tale behind its loss is base and sordid:

 

It is a member of the canine species

Who is this story’s villain

My work he chewed and ravaged into pieces

He whom I had named “Dylan”

This once beloved pet grown such a traitor

I vowed to starve him of his dogfood later.

 

The poem had fled my mind without recall

But shadows of deep meaning

Remained within my mind and that was all,

A strange and nameless feeling.

Oh dog! Thou philistine to eat such wonders

Mankind is ever poorer for thy blunders.

Author's Note

The title doesn't refer to this poem itself. This poem isn't the best in the world. It's probably not even in the top ten.

Reviews

[Tony]

This is an excellent poem.
Dylan, you b*****d.

[Sweet_pale_cacophony]

I completely enjoyed reading this..great pace of words and i love the last two stanzas..a complete twist to what could have been a completely different subject...:)