Fools (or few words on explaining poetry)

What poems are but things that sound pretty?
They let in few, escaping prying eyes.

For some they are descriptions,
what a pity!
For others -- nonsense;
as for me it's dice.

A handful of the day,
with dash of midnight movie
A touch of morning brownie and spice,
I throw in the cup with blinding fury
and hope of a win or knowledge of demise.

What follows is the play of other nature,
The audience presented with this blend,
Free to decide if lines contain adventure,
Love, boredom, the irony or "trend"

Reactions, quite remote in conception,
In turn come from the reader´s own game;
A handful of the day with dash of last reception
A touch of morning brownie and fame...

And this, what fools! we call communication!