Brian Taylor

(England)

Sic Transit Gloria Mundi


The splendour of a hundred kings
fades like the bloom on a butterfly’s wings.
The meanest flower that blows
goes the same way the forest goes.
All is consumed by worm or fire;
nothing needs building any higher.
The rattling of teeth within the jaw
mocks the tongue murmuring:
“Please, some more! ”

Submitted: Friday, February 14, 2014

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Poet's website: www.universaloctopus.com

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