Pop Art

We had a really talented artist on board who who gave us presentations on Cuba, music and art genres. Robin Ross has led a colourful life starting on pirate radio and ending with hanging out with urban Street artists all over the world.  The talk that led to this poem was about pop art, a genre I hadn't previously thought much of. 


A crowd of white folding chairs line up on the dance floor
Waiting in front of a giant cartoon face shouting "Listen up!"
The screen comes alive: real life writ large,
Found, altered images, screen printed,
The same image, slightly different each time,
Marilyn's multicoloured magnificence,
Each repetition a revelation.
Images reduced to dots Wham! Bam!
Popular culture, collaged kitsch,
Juxtaposed with irony, political statements
So detailed, so simple, so clever,
Each a jab, a right hook against convention,
A rewrite of accepted pop culture. 
You had me at the soup cans. 

© Copyright 2023. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Directions

Day 30:  write a poem in the form of a series of directions describing how a person should get to a particular place. It could be a real place, like your local park, or an imaginary or unreal place.  There's an old joke about someone asking directions,  and being told "I wouldn't start from here." But that's the only place you can start, whether it's a real journey,  or your journey through life.    To get to where you want to be Start from where you are.  Take the first step,  then - most important - Keep going in your chosen direction.  Take along your close companions If you're worried they'll be left behind;  Trust you will meet new friends In unexpected places. You may get lost along the way,  Blundering your way back on track After several false starts Before you find your destination.  You may choose to stop, distracted By the bright lights of interesting diversions. Take time to decide if you need to back track Or if th...
Read more

A Life Lived Well

Another friend has passed away, and will be dearly missed. Yesterday our book group honoured her memory by attending her funeral,  and spending time back at her house amongst her family and friends.  I always find it odd that we find out more about a person's life after they've died than is ever shared while we think we know them.  Our quiet friend, of firm opinions softly spoken, Will never again welcome us into her home,  To discuss her choice of book, relish her homemade cakes, To admire her eclectic collection of postcards on the loo wall, To envy her stream-fed pond, her rambling cottage garden.  Instead, her family warmly welcomes us in, The house humming with tales from those who knew her well,  Who somehow know us: our names, reputations, book choices, Our faces smiling out from frames set among family photos; All of us sharing stories of her love of nature, books, travels, All of us honouring this steadfast, self-effacing woman, Between us cherishi...
Read more

The unhappy bride

Inspiration from unexpected sources - The Unhappy Bride You can often be inspired by seeing something unexpected,  out of the norm. In this case it was a series of photographs taken of a woman wearing a bridal gown standing outside a locked church, walking by a river,  and finally wallowing in the mud,  ruining her dress.  It made me wonder about her back story, and i came up with this poem,  written in a ballad form reminiscent of the days when I used to go to a folk club.  The ballad form is written in verses of 4 lines,  with 8 syllables in lines 1 and 3, 7 syllables in lines 2 and 4, and a rhyme scheme of abab. The girl is young,  she meets a man Who tells her that he loves her They meet at night,  whene'er they can He soon becomes her lover. Oh sailor boy,  stay by my side Don't leave me here to moulder Please say that I can be your bride Before the moon gets older. The man agrees,  to keep her sweet, Meaning jus...
Read more