omnia vincit...

Musings about poetry. It's not Baudelaire, but I'm somewhat happy with it.

Poetry gives men wings
like red bull but sustained
And with that risen power
brings them crashing to ground
For thus is Icarus oft abused
in the flights of men's egos
When they dare to dream
that words can meaning transcend
And bring to soaring flight
the commonness of their plight

But what is man that thus ascribed
should become like a god
And set forth word lacking deed
well-intended but quaking quill
Sculpting word into being
where word had not long been
Fix your mark O poets
for in striving many fail
Run through and pained
with those softly trammeled words