/lit/ - Literature

ON AMANDA GORMAN'S CRAPPY VERSE

The cycles of the day shall soon be spent.
Force that pleasures rise will seek its fall.
Muses know which poets they will send
past the veil of ages' grand appall.

Detritus that builds in other names
will be revealed when such names waste away
as tawdry ashen towers once in fame
will find the world devalues as an aim.

The general to chest with medals pinned
shall sleep with slave within the threshing mill;
the scholar sat at desk with book and pen
will find his knowledge wanting as blood spills;

the sentimental hawker of bad verse,
bearer of the largest beating heart,
with lips clipped narrow in a tightened purse
as hearts alone do not enlighten art

shall grow with wonder, as the decades grow,
at how the world's swift sweep delivers sting:
the bee that wanders flowers curves the foe
where wasp and worm will root the venom in;

and those that merely stand aside and know
will shake their heads and say: "It must be so."

what's your favorite poetry?