That is really a good poem; you can see the idea, the figures of speech and the beautiful rhyme, although wishing to have wings is an old idea and a cliché, you made it in a beautiful and new way, nice poem.
I find this quite entertaining. So much thought in so few words. The ending stanza presents an interesting conclusion: though humans don't have wings, human eyes are the wings which fly us to the distant stars.
Hm. I thought I understood the poem until I reread the description and the comments left before I arrived.
So, in my confused way, I understand that humans dream of flying (as I do often), and we want the living things that do fly to give us their abilities, or show us how they do it so we may imitate them...
so, as stupid and arrogant humans, we kill the bugs to study them and dissect the information out of them; perhaps from their very molecules.
Molecules that strongly resemble the molecules that make up the rest of the universe that may or may not be able to fly.
We're all stardust, after all.
We just aren't all able to fly.
An interesting read that I enjoyed aside from any personal confusion.
Thanks for sharing, Lloyd.
You have tried to sustain a consistent metre and a consistent rhyme scheme. To do so you have resorted to altering the expected word order to force the rhyming word into the final position.
This conscious attention to poetics is admirable, but you shouldn't be happy until you've achieved a more perfect result than this.
For example that word "strain" sitting in isolation without a predicate such as "to take flight" sounds a bit odd, like trying to pass an uncomfortable motion.
The end of the second verse breaks down entirely because "let me take hold into the stars of night" doesn't make much sense. All it does is rhyme and it even contradicts the sentiment of the previous two lines where you are happy to take your revenge on the flies by impaling them. It is a non sequitur however to assume that their death will empower you to flight.
My advice is to regard the above as a first effort, a rough draft and to go back to the drawing board and represent your poem when it has grown to something a little more impressive.
Nevertheless, in my book, you score good points for not writing about yourself and for playing around with the poetics.
Weird! And then I read the description, "not really what you think" and was completely thrown off from my first conclusion that this is obviously about man's desire to leave the ground and fly like insects and in that desire man rages against that which he cannot be and destroys. Soooo....since description points to first instincts as being wrong, I am at a loss! Except the last line points to something altogether different for me, than what the body of the poem is. The 'stars' come out of nowhere it seems. I feel like I'm rambling and have said nothing productive. Is this a riddle?! And if so, the answer please?