• The critic

    by  • July 2, 2011 • Poetry • 5 Comments

    Silence, please
    The critic
    Has spoken
    Your art
    Is simply:
    Broken!

    He will
    Dissect your work
    With a knife
    And a fork
    After a minute
    He would say
    You should flip it
    The Other Way!

    Your lines
    Lead me nowhere,
    On the canvas
    Your colors
    Carry no stamina
    Have no flair
    Forget the style
    You need a compass!

    And the brush strokes
    Oh…
    The brush strokes
    So…So flakey
    Foolishly,
    He comments:
    “Tune it down,
    You need
    Solid Foundation!”
    Sheepishly
    You ask:
    “How do I
    Add Cement
    To a Carnation?”

    Little that he knows,
    Where
    The brush
    Takes you
    How
    The passions grow
    Why
    The vibes of life
    Never
    Dim down
    Never
    Beat slow

    © 2011, M Z. All rights reserved.

    About

    Blogger, writer, dappling in poetry and freelancing in Web and Graphic Design.

    http://www.liferiddles.net/

    5 Responses to The critic

    1. July 2, 2011 at 2:39 pm

      Ah critics, well we all have them. And yet art is so subjective, whether it is painting or writing. The brush strokes do not matter in the how and why. It is the message, the perception, the truth to any individual who beholds. This wonderful poem, for example, gives us a magnificent view of critics and how irrelevant they are.

      Excellent poem, He Said!

      • He Said
        July 4, 2011 at 12:06 pm

        Thank you Cher, we need them…we do not need them 🙂

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