Thread: Dali

The pulp pink giraffe head
sprouting out from a maiden’s shoulders
looks past me as if deep in contemplation
over the artistic merit of it’s own
existence. A child screams
in the next gallery while
a security guard tries not
to look interested at the tour
group surrounding a small famous
painting of some blocks, a clock,
and a fish. Someone mutters how
he really knew how to sell his
image but his words melt like
Camembert cheese in the sun
when I feel her hand close
around mine and hear her voice
tell me that this painting
would look cool as a tatto
but she doesn’t want it to
interfer with her Mondrian
one. Behind her I can see
a black & white charlatan
grin behind a waxed mustache
and I can feel the paper wrist
band pull the hairs on my arm.

Hi HinduCow28,

I think this could definitely go under poetic humour. It had me smiling in some places. The strangeness of it on the first read urged me to read it again, and when things fell into place it was quite satisfying. I'm still wondering about the paper wrist band - is it like the stamps they give you on entry in clubs, but a wristband for an art gallery? Forgive me if art galleries hand out wristbands and I'm not aware; you could say I'm not a frequent at many galleries (not that there are any near me).

I've noticed some of the rhyming, and I like how buried it is within the lines. Keep it that way, and I'd suggest toying with that, by adding some more half-rhymes, or even just some tactically used assonance.

A very nice, short poem, HinduCow.

thank you!
the paper wrist bands were these bands they gave out to mark who paid. It felt more like an amusement park than a museum and I was kinda upset about it. However, it did inspire this little poem.

Really enjoyed this, both for the glimpse it offered of the artist's work, and for the observational bits as well. One little thing that caught my eye was the spelling of Mondrian. Think you've got a transposition there.