Details

'To write a formal poem', we're told,
'measures must be taken,
to unfold a certain flair, or spark,
for information, for description.'
What comes to mind within this rule, here can be displayed,
made, to be benign or cruel, escape or emulation.

The businessman gave a confident smirk,
his work strife with fine print,
importance- be it hidden clause,
broken laws, loopholes, misprints.
The make and break, bust or boom,
of contracts can be played with,
'Information, description, they're both found,
within the grey walls of my firm's compound.'

The linguist, with a scholarly gaze,
chuckled and announced,
Where exactly information within English could be found,
The meanings, definitions, and beauty is behind,
how words and language can be manipulated and rhymed,
lurking, the wonderful, complex functions,
junctions between words, conjoining humans,
a line below a word that you already know,
confirming the difference in bourgault and bourdeau.

The scientist pushed his glasses up his nose,
slid graph paper to the side,
began a short monologue, on where his details reside.
'Science is fundamental pointlessness, without
the information to provide,
hundreds of key, precision points of information,
AMPA glutamine receptors,to zymolycide,
to form conclusions, deconstruct delusions, to reveal what nature hides.

The classicist replaced his marker,
to story of Icarus, his failure to fly,
realising that this group's stone ball was back-rolling down the hill,
and recalled the myths and legends of the amphilogiai;
Specific to create bridges, to solve debates, contention,
prevention of a world rife with war, holding eros above
agape, corruption of the peitho, the rise of the apate,
'Words should be about the love, all humanity, under one array'

The artist in the corner, finished a doodle in his page,
sat forward in his chair, his hair forming a greased
pack of short, straight, spiked lines, grey with age,
he spoke, thinking he had wisdom that would never cease.
"Details, in this world, fleeting as they are,
can be found in the medium, only known as art,
Not through facts, figures, numbers, words, listed on a sheet,
It's in an artist's tiny, speckled flecks of emotion, snow and sleet"

The teacher stopped them with a wave of hand, his head shaking slightly,
"You're all getting the right idea, but with the wrong application,
Any poetry you write will be read by possibly, the nation!
Rationally, you have to think, they can't all agree with you,
and as such, you have to bring across your details with patience,
all of yours, all of theirs, they're all correct interpretations.

'To write a formal poem', we're told,
'measures must be taken
to unfold a certain flair or spark,
for information, for description.'
What comes to mind within this rule, here can be displayed,
made to be benign or cruel, escape or emulation.

The businessman would give a confident smirk,
his work strife with fine print,
importance- be it hidden clause,
broken laws, loopholes, misprints.
The make and break, bust or boom,
of contracts can be played with,
'Information, description, can both be found,
within the grey walls of my firm's compound.'

The linguist, with a scholarly gaze,
chuckled and announced,
Where exactly information within English could be found,
The meanings, definitions, and beauty is behind,
how words and the function of language can be manipulated and rhymed,
how, lurking, the wonderful, complex functions,
junctions between words, conjoining humans,
a line below a word that you already know,
confirming the difference in bourgault and bourdeau.

The scientist huffed and dropped his pen,
slid his paper to the side,
began a short monologue, on where his details reside.
'Science is fundamental pointlessness, without
the information to provide,
key, precision points and facts on,
AMPA glutamine receptors to zymolycide,
this is all to form conclusions, deconstruct delusions,
to reveal secrets, make intrusions,
on what nature's processes hide.

The classicist replaced his marker,
to Sisyphus' chronic deceit,
realising that gravity, the group's stone ball would defeat,
and so recalled the tales of the Greek mythological elite.
Specific to create bridges, to solve debates, contention,
prevention of a world rife with war, holding eros above
true love, agápe, corruption of the peithos, the rise of the apate,
regarding the other untruths with nothing short of heartache.
"For me, you see, details are in the accuracy,
such as Odysseus' arrow passing through 12 axe heads laterally,
before co-llaterally becoming all that his wife's suitors were seeking to be"


The artist in the corner finished a doodle in his page,
sat forward in his chair, his hair forming a greased
pack of short, straight, spiked lines, grey with age,
he spoke, believing he held a wisdom that would never cease.
"Details, in this world, fleeting as they are,
can be found in the medium, that can be only known as art,
Not through facts, fine print, words or a weapon's glint in bloodlust,
You may search for it, in an artist's tiny, speckled flecks of emotion,
if you must." Yet he was careful to avoid the details of "artist",
and what he meant by it, so that they wouldn't glean the notion,
of what the man had thought when he had proven he was smartest;
that only ambiguity could reconcile what details had set in motion.