No Sense Of Proportion Poem by Delilah Miller
No Sense Of Proportion
My art teacher skirts around me,
makes a Jimi Hendrix joke
and keeps his eyes down.
The paintings of red women,
he doesn't get.
The sketches of thin gray legs
above bulbous purple bodies,
he doesn't like.
My art teacher repeats himself,
makes the same jokes,
perhaps painting the same canvases.
He thinks I love drawing
because I'm devoted to distortion.
I paint what I see.
Truth is
he shouldn't have put me in Painting;
I've got no sense of proportion.
Interesting story, but the writing is too prosaic, although I suppose you could say it's a prose poem.
and so the truth is distorted...it is the artist who has been chosen to see beyond reality to the spirit, for better or worse...and the truth is what we see...Coach
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 11:14:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I said, 'too prosaic', but I didn't say I didn't like it. BUT - I would have liked it more if it were less prosaic.