at the art gallery

the exhibition came and parted: objects,

of sort, that were on shelves with pompous care

cozened to engage the spurious prospects

the visitors would direct in a flare

when dreadful art their interest impair.

the walls are empty now; the white again

refills the space that is once more left bare

for the next pretence of talent in vain

will be clumped to prate poor insights with gain.

this pristine plastering lacks in the main tone

that was of expectations, when the pain,

of dyeing the room to host a pale moan, 

was excused by hopes that lastingly shone

till th' exhibits have, with light, dimmed their throne.

Reviews

[Robert Haigh]

I love visiting art galleries. One man's art is another man's piece of junk. We all have our own preferences, and our own ides of what constitutes a real work of art.

[AnonHimMoose]

i think you have just proved my point by trying to go against it