A Beautiful Disaster
I press the button and renew
The page with someone's masterpiece.
I see a so-called review
Of letters less than letters missed.
The comment's author claims to be
A bard, a critic and a muse.
This three-in-one, or none-in-three
Can't get the core of someone's views,
Of thoughts in their poetic flight.
Yes, it is hard - they tend to flee,
But it's the artist's one true might
To see what other eyes can't see,
And poets for a day or two,
Who shape a random phrase by chance,
Who haven't proved a sentence true,
Just have no right to set demands
For those who ponder, dare and speak,
Who search, discover and create.
Their fame is yet to reach its peak,
And as for you, it's way too late.