Marmite People
The art of the critic, WHY? Not knowing will guess, At what lies behind, The image when the, Artist knows not either.
Was it by Elephant, monkey, An insane, a joker’s mind? Who given paint, crayon, Or charcoal daubed or, Tried to clarify, The blank sheet of Life.
Surely Picasso laughed, When folk bought, Into daubs on envelopes, Napkins or scraps worth, K’s, Unimaginable; does he still giggle?
Those who scratch or draw, May cringe or bleed at, Such miss-placed scribbling s,
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
