Will poems to my dull senses rise,
In plainer garb, or apt disguise?
Can turn of phrase else serve an end,
To vanquish foes or win a friend?
What ardor gains a rhyme’s release,
To grant me treasured moment’s peace?
So is it merely hubris’ child,
That lets me dream I’m Oscar Wilde!
2nd Place, Best Poetic Form, Poet Destroyer A