jackson pollock

You looked at the screen

Readjusted your eyes

Lens saturated with color

Notable artist splattered across the television

I mutter the notion

That it is full of commotion

And, rather deny, you simply smile

Glimmer of an aspiring artist

It is paint thrown against a canvas

I can’t pretend

That I would award the word “art”

Until a few months later

In my ignorance….

I find some bliss

That I should have an inevitable tryst

And, the community would call it abstract

And, I would beg differ

That is all up to the observer

Whether they should be open to something

Messier