You Make Them Make Sense…Or not…

people hotel bar drinks
Photo by Stokpic on Pexels.com

Some have said,
“He’s a current event poet,”
I guess meaning
My writing is about what’s happening now.

Okay.

Topical, that’s what it is
Hitting on the highs and lows
Of life in a routine, searching,
Trying to find if there is meaning.

True.

So these things happen,
I write about them,
Maybe changing details,
Maybe creating better versions of a day.

Absolutely.

Yet none of it is true,
Not the absurdities,
Not the bawdiness,
Not the lies.

Maybe.

Perhaps there were pigs and gunny sacks,
There could have been equine prancing,
Would growlers even have a place on the same day
As fashion conversations between aging men bellied up to the sty.

Huh?

Random thoughts inspired by concrete days
Make the miserable bearable through
Inspired laughter about the ridiculousness
Of the lives we lead.

Say, again?

Look, stuff happens,
It gets illuminated here,
It gets amplified there,
If it really ever happens.

You’re losing me…

No, find your meaning in poetry,
The poet says something only known to the medium,
The reader determines what the poem means
Through interpretation and reflection.

Ah…

Yes, the stories of a day
Can tell a bunch about us individually,
How we see the world,
How we lived our experiences.

Makes sense…

So go figure out why your boss is not at the game,
Throw batting practice on an off day,
Wash down drool with snooty beer, and find
The perfect inspirations to describe manicured lawns.

I will.

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