SEMANTICS…

 

The four o’clock poem

Has struck again

When once the words

Poured out during

My morning shower

They now prod me awake

After a restless, useless sleep

And here I am

Tapping away

Peering in dismay

At the pre-dawn computer screen

Overly-bright

Wrecking my sight

Of not only the words

But also what I need to say

 

Does a confessional poet always confess the truth

Or is there a bit of fiction

In everyone’s life

Something we don’t even recognize

Because our reality

Is different from everyone else’s

Is fiction allowed

Or can we create instead of recording

The truth

As the universe knows it

As others think they know it

 

Writing is a philosophical dilemma

And although millions of literature majors

Write countless papers

About the poet’s symbolism

What do they really know

About the poet’s blah, blah show

Most importantly

What does the poet really know

Semantics…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: amirite.com

 

 

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