Is it a ranting tirade of anger
Exposing a jaundiced view
Of city streets
Mean people
Sorrowful expectations
Grasping for meaning?
Is it perspective
Viewed
Sideways
Askance
Off centered?
Is it a meter?
Is it a measuring glance?
Is it life captured?
Words
Having meaning
Attesting
To
Introspection
Saying
Agonizing
Realities
Translated
?
Beauty captured in a moment
Words defined as we foment
Concentrating on a comment
Politically trapped lament
Is it words expressing the emotion and perspective of the writer as a commentary rather than a poetical turn of phrase; expressing the joy, the angst, the fears, the wants, the desires, the observations, the impact made or received from a moment in time captured by a run-on sentence?
Art in word, what is this thing?
Art in word, making words sing?
To write, to capture?
To anger, to enrapture?
Is there any truth to let this ring?
What is this art we seek to say, to tell?
Is it the words, the rhyme, a say, meter?
Poet’s phrasing, t’capture thinking to sell?
Or t’hold a word distinct, per adventure?
What is this art, words seeking to express?
Logic n’anvil, hammer n’pen, striking?
What is this art, coined phrase in duress?
Metallic sheets, pages of blot shrinking?
What is art but perspective giv’n
Turns of phrases making others to think.
Choicer ‘xpressions, made among the living
To guide and show in pica form, not ink?
Alas, are we all fools yet once again?
An emperor’s tale, a’once naked yet sane.
What is art, the poet queried?
Of his definition, his mind wearied.
Reading too much in jumbled thought,
Rantings and ravings, his mind besought.
Callous and careless, words have been given,
As if by many words, exorcise, demons riven.
With no definition accepted, art dejected.
Gone are the masterworks once inflected.
Whither are they now, no forked paths to take.
No tales of kings, queens, princes, spears to shake.
Of millers and bakers, and odes to a louse, a duchess,
Of ravens and hearts and eyes, at least this much is?
Of politics and meanness, of anger and angst,
For what is considered art, I give thanks.
With meaning lost, expression disjointed,
I pray for the few, the gifted, the anointed.
Let words ring with sorrow and wit.
Let words ring with joy, tumultuous fit.
For what do I know, as I get older.
They quote oft, beauty, in the eye of the beholder.
I love the way this seemed to be poking fun at the worn out cliche' angst filled poems splashed in every pool found on the internet. I suppose anything created via imagination could be considered "art" by some, but if the poem doesn't breathe originality with a deep meaning I value to some degree ....I find myself not being interested in THAT art.
This was a great question to explore. I just had to read your response to it.
Love the way you rattled the run on.
Well-written - shows you know a thing or two about poetry.
Hi Doc..
You just don't skim the surface of anything, do you ? I really enjoyed this in depth, critical search of your soul. I'm sorry, but a cross in a toilet bowl is not art. Some believe that if it's different, it's art. I loved the way you covered all aspects of art. It seems people lack the courage to defy something as art, that they are just one set of eyes. This is a great piece. Is it art ? Why not ? It is a form of art, to me. Rain..
This is a very beautiful poem. This piece has a very nice flow, rythme, and ryhme. I love the theme. I enjoy art very much so. I hope to become an artist someday, hopefully. Or just a struggling poet who can't ryhme lol. Anyways, I loved this piece. So very true. You said it so well. Wonderfully written. Excellent work. Great Job! =]
I missed this - how did I miss this? Perhaps I did not yet know you in May.
I love the set up of this - how it starts out with short bursts of thought - and then broadens...art does that as well.
I love the way you take this from ryhme - to an almost unattached 'dictionary definition' of 'art.' Sometimes I catch myself when viewing something doing that same thing....Backing up and identifying - then going back to the feeling I get when viewing the work.
This is a great poem to feature for those of us here at the cafe...it speaks to us, who we are and what we do.
I love the way this seemed to be poking fun at the worn out cliche' angst filled poems splashed in every pool found on the internet. I suppose anything created via imagination could be considered "art" by some, but if the poem doesn't breathe originality with a deep meaning I value to some degree ....I find myself not being interested in THAT art.
This was a great question to explore. I just had to read your response to it.
Love the way you rattled the run on.
Well-written - shows you know a thing or two about poetry.
Even ugliness, raw ugliness can be art. But as you point out, I think it's everything and then some, as you say and as the well-known phrase goes about beauty being in the eye of the beholder. To me, I either like it and can empathize with it to some degree, or I don't and I feel nothing for it... indifference rather than hate, I guess. Yes, it's craft, but it's passion, and also... something intangible that can never be grasped. But that's the beauty to me. A few nits you might like to consider: I understand the use of apostrophes to smooth out the syllable count and meter, but in some places I'm not sure it works e.g. giv'n and 'xpression--why not just write it as it's normally spelt as I read it as it's supposed to be read already? Also, one line: "Is it the words, the rhyme, (a say), meter?" --Did you mean "sayings" here? Because (and I'm a grammar freak) it doesn't quite make sense to me as it is. Other than those little things, I think this flows well, and brings up some very interesting thoughts. J
Artist • Author • Poet • Preacher • Creative •
I am a thinker, ponderer, assayer of thoughts. I have had a penchant for writing since childhood. I prefer "Doc" as an hommag.. more..