Thursday, 2 July 2009

Poem: The Theory of Monet

I love art

That comes in all forms.

I could draw a decent stick man

Since the time I was born... five... twenty. (Hell, I still can't draw one.)


Because of my expertise

I really must say...

What the hell were people thinking...

Praising Monet?

I have seen his self portrait,

His cap and large ties,

But, I think something was missing

In front of his eyes...

I can see how it went

A day long, long ago...

Claude decided to paint

At the river that flowed...

He sat down on the bank

laid out things he had brought,

I forgot them again,

is what ran through his thoughts.

Back at home his father

Watches as time passes,

Why would Claude go paint

without taking his glasses?

He leaves the house

in such a hurry.

No wonder he comes home

with his paintings so blurry.

Claude, no one will buy it,

What will you do now?

I have been thinking father,

And I think I know how.

Marketing dad,

it will be a great hit!

An impressionist work

is what I'll call it!