Monday, October 3, 2016

Rob Schackne #96 - Fake, The Original

Fake, The Original

A glut of forged paintings 
Duped experts adding value
Originals tired of being one-offs
The autumn field looked so strong

Favourites given strange odds 
Rounding the turn very quiet
Punters tear up their forms
No one buys back the farm
With imaginary winnings
The canned music in the streets
The sunset reproduced on the news
This poem is already written
In a hundred identical roses
This conversation has a used air
Sorry the subject is second-hand
Clearly I failed in originality
I only paint what I see, my dear
Just come to me now and tell me
Everything good will be copied.


  1. stimulating ... it gives me to think and even meditate .... (as I guess the conclusions are second-hand ... so what!) :)

  2. Ha. Thank you both, Lizz and Béatrice. Glad that this poem could give anyone pause for thought. Ideas seem to chase each other around a race track like the horses in a poem. Usually the winner, the final outcome, is narrowed down, predicted...subject always of course to the limitations of what else is around. In the arts it sometimes seems a bit like this too. But you're right, Béatrice...if it's the only game in town! :)


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