A Poet Observing
A first draft poem on hypocrisy
Sometimes, as a poet, you come across something in the world that catches your eye, your ear, that makes you think deeper.
The way the light hits the diamond on the engagement ring just right and sends rainbows across the wall. The stutter-start of the accordion player faltering over the right song to play in the park. The mannerisms of the couple at the table next to you who are on a first date, newly introduced to the city.
For me, the details came together in the square this past weekend, settled onto a bench on the east side, basking in early evening sun. Forcing myself to free write about my surroundings — the trees, the cobblestones, the people, the signs.
And the hypocrisy1, the irony, the juxtaposition of what actions mean for different communities.
Cover photo: Marc Schulte via Unsplash
A future poem series on the hypocrisies of the world? Most definitely.
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