I was listening to a critic
just back from a museum visit.
Those paintings;
just solid colors
over the whole canvas.

So simple.
Boring, even.

He didn’t get it.
He didn’t feel
as the artist intended.

He criticized those painting
while lounging with me beside his pool
staring up at the clear blue sky.

He stopped his bitching
long enough to exclaim:

“God damn it!
What a beautiful day!
Just look at that sky!
Not a cloud in sight!”

I looked up
at monochromatic sky.

I looked at him—
at his giant grin.

He got it.
He was not bored
nor critical.

He felt exactly
as the painter intended.


3 thoughts on “Monochromatic

  1. Reblogged this on mikeswrites and commented:
    This is so true to all forms of art. Whether it is a painting or an article, am essay or a novel that you are trying tirelessly to get published. There will be criticism in your path, but make sure it has the impact that this poem does and it will go far.


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