Analysis of One Thousand On The Road



I watched one thousand people walk along a darkened road –
A road which, leading nowhere, passed nearby my poor abode.
All steady and without a sound they moved as by one mind.
I waited by my door to ask them what they thought to find.

The first came near enough to hear me shout aloud “hullo;
You know this path is endless and to nothing does it go,
And yet you walk it stubbornly as if an aim it hath.”
“It matters not,” he said to me; “at least it is a path.”

He never slowed his steady gait, still questions did I dare:
“But sir, what of these thousand souls who walk without a care?
They follow in your every step, why lead you them astray?”
“It matters not,” he said again; “for is it not a way?”

He kept his eyes unshifting on the path before his feet,
As if he feared to leave that comfort confine of the street.
I stepped aside to let him pass – I’d naught from him to gain –
Then focused on the dogged crowd that followed in his train.

The dismal one who came behind had eyes so full of tears
That as he turned to look at me I knew he’d wept for years.
I asked him why he trudged along so far without an aim;
He wiped his cheeks and answered me in words betraying shame:

“I was afraid to walk the road that long I yearned to try,
Till seeing how another man could walk it, so did I.
I made us two upon the road, a quest that promised fame.
Yet here I am, no glory gained, and still without a name.”

His weak resolve bewildered me and prompted me to ask:
“Why do you not, for glory sought, reverse your futile task?”
Now as he walked he wept again, and answered with a moan:
“It is my fear that keeps me here; I will not walk alone.”

I let him go his burdened way, since pity had I none.
In questioning one thousand souls, I hoped at least for one
To give me useful reasons why so many were inclined
To walk that useless road on end; could all of them be blind?

The third in line walked smugly with a self-important stride.
When asked the worth of walking, his response was one of pride.
“Behind me are one thousand men and ever there are more.
We men who walk before them are the men they must adore.”

The crowd went on – I questioned more to find their common goal.
One said: “I go because I must,” another: “tis a stroll.”
For some it was a merry march, for others ‘twas a chore,
But of some consequential end I could not gather more.

So wearied of my queries as I gave up hope at last,
I stopped and stood back helplessly as still they crowded past.
The column turned into a stream, the stream into a mob,
And filled the road like shadows with a weighty footfall throb.

In flocks of mindless hundreds drove the dreary rabble by,
Till counting, I did wonder that the end was nowhere nigh.
I’d quite astutely tallied up one thousand at the first,
But in the time I waited many thousands had traversed.

For countless days I waited for the multitude to pass,
Struck dumb in captivation at the mesmerizing mass.
I rubbed my eyes as I espied a void around the bend,
As all at once like fleeting clouds the crowd came to an end.

I stood in desolation in the vacant aftermath,
The object of my intrigue having gone along the path.
Unhappy with the empty silence ‘round my poor abode,
I walked to catch that aimless crowd upon this nameless road.


Scheme AABB CXDD EEFF GGHH XXII JJII KKLL MMBB NNOO CCOO PPQQ JJRR SSTT DDAA
Poetic Form Quatrain  (86%)
Metre 11110101010101 0111011111101 11000101111111 11011111111111 0111011111011 11111100110111 01111100111111 11011111111101 11011101110111 11111101110101 110011001111101 11011101111101 111111010111 11111111001101 11011111111111 1101011110011 01011101111111 11111111111111 11111101110111 11110101010101 11011101111111 11010101111111 11110101011101 11111101010101 11010101010111 11111101011101 11111101010101 11111111111101 11111101110111 01001101111111 11110101110001 11110111111111 01011101010101 11011101011111 01111101010111 11110111011101 01111101111101 11110111010101 11110101110101 1110101111101 11011101111111 11011100111101 01010101010101 010111101011 01110101010101 1101110101111 11010101110101 10011101010110 1101110101011 1101101001 1111111010101 11111101011111 110010001010 01011011010101 01010101011101 11111101011101
Closest metre Iambic heptameter
Characters 3,342
Words 702
Sentences 33
Stanzas 14
Stanza Lengths 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4, 4
Lines Amount 56
Letters per line (avg) 45
Words per line (avg) 11
Letters per stanza (avg) 179
Words per stanza (avg) 45
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Written on May 23, 2011

Submitted by JohnsMusings on June 11, 2022

Modified on May 02, 2023

3:30 min read
1,273

John M. Broadhead

John grew up in a rural area outside Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he was afforded endless room for his imagination to grow from an early age. Filmmaking was his first passion, a passion which led him to screenwriting and then to poetry and prose. His Bachelors degree is in English Literature, and he has written several feature length screenplays, two science fiction novels and a collection of poetry. He still lives in Albuquerque. Please follow me at www.johnmbroadhead.com for news about my upcoming novel release! more…

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