Best Museum Poems

ALONE AT THE HOLOCAUST MUSEUM

rose early in the morning,
indulged in a lovely quiche lorraine,
ventured out

                        alone.

silence has a sound of its own.

yes,...

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In the cold draft of an empty morning,
I sit widowed, engrossed in scattered thoughts,
confused by tawny tunes of ticking time,
knitting vague colors of changing seasons.

In silence, my name remains forgotten,
mere memory in an old museum.
But when I feel the golden rays of sun-
that drapes my...

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Is it the light
    that long    high fluorescence?
Or    is it the half-light?
Why am I so dizzy?

Or    was it the Sleeping Gypsy
    mounted just above descending stairs?
I'd seen the work in...

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In Iceland there’s a Willy museum
It’s not huge like an old Colosseum
Filled with all types of willies
It would give me the sillies
But people pay lots of Kroner to see um!

Inspired by a comment Tom Cunnigham made on my Aurora Borealis poem
The museum has many exhibits...

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I'd risen from my bed quite early, in the pale silent sunshine,
And I thought to have a day out, and not waste summer's prime.

The world still was sleeping, but the bluebirds sang a tune,
And blooms held onto dewdrops, until arrival of noonday swoon!

I relished a...

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The museum closed for ever,
and I was there
when they turned off the lights

They were turned off one by one...
At first the boardroom's
where Jacqui cried, I think

then the conference room
where they dismantled
all the plugs

then the rooms on all the floors,
and I could not stand it -
the...

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OH Dragon! OH Dragon! You flewn the coup! Where have, you gone? 
He watched ‘Night at the Museum’. Was that actually, so very wrong?
King Tut Exhibit’s in town; He should be in bed, not going there next. 
He’s on a crazy genealogy kick. Thinks he’s...

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Jones, Jones, where are your bones? 
I'd like to hear again your moans, your groans, 
underneath loathed graveyard stones, 
all with weird sepulchral tones, 
me and all my friends, the crones, 
wailing o'er the bones of Jones....

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I sank my fragile being in delights of dew 

Waltz on cheeks of people, through mosaic of eyes 

I also whispered HIM, when He tried to rain 

My secret bits of wishes... returning to the fields 

 

I dove into abyss so to revive with...

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A pair of shoes, all scuffed and worn,
A watch whose time is frozen,
A red bandana, all among
The objects that were chosen

And then encased so we could read
Their stories and remember
Exactly how things were
That awful morning that September.

Today, a dedication held,
With speeches and reflections,
Ensuring that we’d...

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The Greeter at a Museum
I am prepared to perform my mindless task 
when they open the doors at ten am 
and when the visitors enter I recall 
my preamble and it goes like this 
Good morning, folks where are you from
sorry no cokes or food...

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Lazy afternoons on easels
Maples giggle loud with sweetness
Blue and yellow mixed in grasses
Withered wrinkles sink in lilies

Joggers run in fear of dying
Secret trails end in abyss
As the sun stabs days in prisms
Bloody madness grabs the paintbrush

People old vanish from benches
Emptiness sits down by me
Artists mutilate...

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 A funny thing happened on the way to the Art Museum, 
I saw a seagull fly above a man wearing a soldier’s beret.
He landed on the arena of the respected Roman Colosseum,
pooped all over the beautiful markings, I knew not what to say. 
I...

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Magnetic attraction, enchanting dream of a lifetime -
	majestic pyramid attracts my eye, 
	mystique draws me in
	
O, your architecture! Pavilions, colonnades; art enclosing art,
	every square inch deliberately designed,
	ceilings pour forth scintillating splendor
	
Antiquities from Rome, Egypt, the Orient:
	trying to wrap my head around art
	created in Mesopotamia 6,000...

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Sometimes he feels like a museum on
a Monday - empty, desolate, withdrawn
from the celestial library where not 
yet written prose and poetry are stored.
A sleep-deprived, he walks around the rooms,
he curses rhymes and rhythms, he assumes
a pledge to give it up, to live a life
a...

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