A Criticism of Critics Once inside a gallery dreary

While I pondered deep in theory

With a friend about a painting on the wall.

While I sat there neatly chatting

Suddenly there came a tapping

As some one was gently rapping, rapping on my shoulder blade.

Tis a critic, I feared

And sure enough there he stood

With a beret and a mustache beard.

“What do you see in this paining here,”

Said the critic to my ear

“Of flashing colors and spots of red and gold.”

As I looked at the painting I thought, he needs a spanking

For all I saw was colors and nothing more.

“What do you think is its meaning?”

Said the critic closer leaning

I replied “Expression and nothing more.”

“Come, come there must be more

A meaning a core, a reason for its creation.

“There is no deeper meaning.”

I said to the critic who was leaning, leaning on my shoulder blade.

“Come it must have a lesson.”

I said “Its nothing but art expression

Leave it at that and nothing more.” – John Barley