Sunday, March 25, 2012

Poet Novo by Bob Atkinson

Poet Novo (c)2012 Bob Atkinson
 fondly admired works of art
looked upon as astute
yet so far apart

from that which was taught
by those with degrees
in those schools of fine art
with tuition excessive

that which the poor
can find in their means
that which the sensible
can see as esteemed

that which creative artists
long to promote
that which they work hard on
until it is rote

something actualized
in their own wild style
not copied for concord
or subdued desires

as had been shown
to jump out of that box
of same old brush strokes
and simple hard knocks

those of Art Novo's crowd
let it always be known
where their hearts lie
what they love most

those original aspects
not newly minted clones
or painted abstractions
with well formed old bones

carry their own
banners to wave
strong with their hearts
upon life's page

begging for changes
in richness of Art
always looking for that
which is solid and smart

painting wild pictures
with passionate airs
good works of love
without baggage or cares

no formal format
or style to be shown
do they know it's not done?
just seek what's their own?

self taught manners
without master strokes
discovered themselves
new paths to go home

some have amassed
a following of lovers
grown by their style
those who've discovered

a beauty and a grace
of masterful works
brought to the public
by love and solid hard work

a presence
upon those artistic scenes
thought and dance
direct from their dreams

some people with letters
would demean these creations
some would find them revolting
clearly lacking and tasteless

I have joined
without thought to its meaning
with their group's folly
a simpleton's moonbeam

creating art of my own
silly loops disjointed
not caring at all about
constraints of protocol

pretty pictures of words
I thought quite good on my own
seems yet lacking what's needed
astute understanding by others

here with expressions
I coin myself
bringing the thoughts
direct from my belt

throwing ideas
upon blank white paper
without regard
for institution's favor

with letters and listings
with history and favorites
with quiet judgment
and hours of struggle

I find when I read
their quirky summations
I gag and I sneeze
at learned abominations

they write as if
they were the god true
demanding our loyalty
as if we were fools

I've researched their own
sad writings of note
books of some pages
as long as my notes

finding as always
their simpleton essays
of how “....the azure sky
hovered over the
deep blue sea's waves...”

accomplishment's tones
give favor to those
who give to their brothers
without large gagging tolls

decided my own way
will take me home
with smug satisfaction
if not with much gold

if all goes as it should
if dreams become real
my words remembered
in spite of artless zeal

efforts should leave
my name in footnotes
for thoughts that I had
as well as poems I wrote

to my learned friends
I'll beg their forgiveness
in short poems
with poetry endless

....tried it your way,
but my heart wasn't in it....
so followed my own path
though my words primitive”

Poetry Novo's the Craze
the words that give license
to a field dedicated
to furtherance of nonsense

well versed but tasteless
forms of word order
that said all I wanted
in noun and verb order

stutters and grunts
yells and squeals
furtive thoughts
and emotional feelings

an assessment debated
in my mind at this moment
can we kick off convention
but keep it well spoken?

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