Ceci n’est pas une pipe
A poem is seldom about what it is about.
Art is lying plausibly and well.
Re-tuning nature’s resonance and light
through human eyes, we harmonise a theme.
Intent can drift: legerdemain could frame
facsimiles without embedding truth.
Inhabiting our world and words, with both
collected by the wild folk for the tame,
intoxication leaches as a seam
along the fault lines poems hold, or ought.
Lie well. They excavate for pearls. Lie well.
This was shortlisted in the Charles Causley Poetry Competition, January 2014.
I blogged about writing it here.