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! ”
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Sic Transit Gloria Mundi by Brian Taylor )
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