Dissatisfied Art Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Splurting colors into the universe on modes of different
instruments, never weighing certain consequences that
will one day be returned in kind.

Occasionally, stranding replicas of dissatisfied art into
atmospheres of no return.

Outlasting contempt of critical people, the outlook of
popularity will strike a chord in several minds which think
alike, and a new form - a new expression of art will be
born of a novel idea.

Never again will it be seen in sullen years of remorse
brought on by age.