It seems I've missed a couple of these out. So here's one I wrote a couple of months ago. The doodle is of a couple of people in an art gallery. It inspired, if that's the best word, a series of short poems - nursery rhymes really - about various modern artists.
Exhibition
Tracy Emin sewed a tent
With every lover's name.
I'm not suspicious minded but
When it went up in flame
I couldn't help but wonder which
Of them should take the blame.
Rachel Whiteread had a house.
She turned it inside out
By filling up with concrete mix -
A prize winner no doubt,
That had the added benifit
Of keeping burglars out.
Paintings made with added dung -
The work of Chris Ofilli,
And some among the critics yawned
Proclaiming it too silly.
But they will burn like billy-o
If the weather should turn chilly.
Damien Hurst displayed a cow
He'd cut up with a knife
And in the world of art today
That kind of thing is rife.
It would have been a better trick
To bring it back to life.
Mark Wallinger, he walked around
A gallery at night.
To make sure he was seen there
He turned on every light
And dressed up as a bear.
Some said, "That bloke's not right."
Martin Creed turned off the lights
And then he turned them on.
Then off, then on, then off, then on.
Some said it was a con.
And when he left them on, at last,
His audience was gone.
William Labov, RIP.
7 hours ago
2 comments:
Something about the meter leaves me wanting another two lines at the end. The fourth one is my favorite.
It's all a bit of an in-joke. People not familiar with the pantheon of Turner Prize winners probably won't understand any of the jokes anyway.
The metre is of course similar to that used by Lewis Carroll in The Mad Gardener's Song (http://www.bachlund.org/The_Mad_Gardener%27s_Song.htm) which begins
He thought he saw an Elephant
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
'At length I realize,' he said,
'The bitterness of Life!'
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