Ars Gratia Artis

2

ars-gratia-artis

Off to the museum of art we go,
with she in front, and me in tow.
Absorb some culture! See the show!

She stands before some framed mish-mash,
that seems to me a plate of hash.
“Look closely at this painting dear,
do you find deep meaning here?”

I stand and gaze professorial style,
with stifled laughter, stifled smile.
I poke my finger in the air,
with a critical look, and a critical flair.
“It’s the product of a master’s hand,
primordial dawn, in a primordial land.

The miasma of some cosmic mind,
chaos complete, yet well defined.
The music of a soul in pain,
yet a symphony of sweet refrain.
A vision of the astral maw,
or perhaps he simply couldn’t draw!’

2 Comments
  1. Joyce says

    Another poem that reads like song. Love your whimsy.

    1. Anonymous says

      Thanks very much Joyce. I’m grateful. I apologize for the late thank you.

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