Ars Gratia Artis


Ars Gratia Artis, 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 miasmaArs Gratia Artis, Ars Gratia Artis of some cosmic mindArs Gratia Artis, Ars Gratia Artis,
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!’

  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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