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“The Painting”
He looked,
At the painting,
Trying to distinguish,
One type of,
Brush stroke,
From another,
Was it an early,
Impressionism piece,
Or from the end,
Of the English,
Romanticism period.
He spent an hour,
Analyzing each wisp,
Of paint,
Straining to see,
What it had,
That made it,
Worthy,
To hang among,
Those other great,
Masterpieces,
Surrounding it.
Just to the left,
Of it hung,
Examples of both,
Expressionism and Cubism,
And to its right,
A few in Abstraction,
And one he thinks,
Is by Tanguy,
From the school,
Of Surrealism.
But this one,
He just can’t,
Categorize,
And that bothers him.
Its information card,
Is missing,
Telling of the artist,
The period,
And what the painting,
Is trying to say,
Without the card,
He just can’t decide,
Whether he likes it,
Or not.
He takes a,
Few steps back,
Tries looking from,
A different angle,
But he still,
Just can’t decide.
He looks around,
For an attendant,
Someone,
Who can explain,
What it is,
He is missing,
But to no avail,
This wing,
Of the museum,
Is almost deserted,
Expect for a few,
Fellow patrons,
Who look more lost,
Than informed.
He finally,
Just gives up,
Walking away,
You can hear him,
Muttering,
“How am I”,
“Suppose to know”,
“If its art”,
“Without”,
“The little card?”
As he heads for,
The Renaissance wing,
Hoping,
All the paintings,
And their accompanying,
Cards,
Are accounted for…
Tom Allen…06-02-2017…
He looked,
At the painting,
Trying to distinguish,
One type of,
Brush stroke,
From another,
Was it an early,
Impressionism piece,
Or from the end,
Of the English,
Romanticism period.
He spent an hour,
Analyzing each wisp,
Of paint,
Straining to see,
What it had,
That made it,
Worthy,
To hang among,
Those other great,
Masterpieces,
Surrounding it.
Just to the left,
Of it hung,
Examples of both,
Expressionism and Cubism,
And to its right,
A few in Abstraction,
And one he thinks,
Is by Tanguy,
From the school,
Of Surrealism.
But this one,
He just can’t,
Categorize,
And that bothers him.
Its information card,
Is missing,
Telling of the artist,
The period,
And what the painting,
Is trying to say,
Without the card,
He just can’t decide,
Whether he likes it,
Or not.
He takes a,
Few steps back,
Tries looking from,
A different angle,
But he still,
Just can’t decide.
He looks around,
For an attendant,
Someone,
Who can explain,
What it is,
He is missing,
But to no avail,
This wing,
Of the museum,
Is almost deserted,
Expect for a few,
Fellow patrons,
Who look more lost,
Than informed.
He finally,
Just gives up,
Walking away,
You can hear him,
Muttering,
“How am I”,
“Suppose to know”,
“If its art”,
“Without”,
“The little card?”
As he heads for,
The Renaissance wing,
Hoping,
All the paintings,
And their accompanying,
Cards,
Are accounted for…
Tom Allen…06-02-2017…