Topsy-Turvy Poem by John Agandin

It is a topsy-turvy world this
For not the doers that count
Not the men in the arena
Not those faces marred by dust and blood
Not those who walk the path and stumble
Not those who dare the mighty things
Who win the glorious triumphs checked by failure
Not those who spend themselves in worthy causes
Not those who strive valiantly and err
Not those who lie sleepless so we sleep
Not those whose silent sacrifices keep us
Not those who starve to fill us up
Not those who die that we might live
No, the credit belongs not to them
Honour belongs not to whom it is due!


It certainly belongs not to the shoulder shrugs
Those feeble souls that recoil at life
Poor spirits who neither suffer nor enjoy
Cynical in thought and speech
Benjamin the donkey pales in comparison
Who see, hear, and knows but speaks not
When the elephant treads the tale of the mouse.
Who dwell in the grey twilight of tranquillity
Who, fearing the critics, knows but doethnot
Timid souls that know neither victory nor defeat
For they quit long before they try
They die long before their mortality ends
And are cremated before they are interred.


It is a topsy-turvy world this
Here, the glory belongs to the critics
The clanging cymbals and empty barrels
Who point out ways they care not to tread
Who show us how the doers stumble
Who reveal the frailties of the darers
The experts who have never tried
Whose wagging tongues beguile us daily
Whose words freeze the marrow in our bones
Who make their living from pointing fingers
Stopping the trains in their tracks
And quieting the birds in mid-song
They stand impenitent in undignified glory.
It is a topsy-turvy world this!