Monday, October 10, 2005

Why I Am Not a Painter

Selected lines from:

Why I Am Not a Painter
By Frank O'Hara

But me? One day I am thinking of a color: orange.
I write a line about orange. Pretty soon it is a whole
page of words, not lines. Then another page. There
should be so much more, not of orange, of words,
of how terrible orange is and life. Days go by. It is
even in prose, I am a real poet. My poem is
finished and I haven't mentioned orange yet.
It's twelve poems, I call ORANGES. And one
day in a gallery I see Mike's painting, called SARDINES.


I love this poem because of its storylike nature. It is fairly easy to understand and the subject relates to us taking this class. Some of us are poets and the other are not. Not because one is less than the other but we each have our own talents. Mike, in this poem, is his friend the painter who unlike the speaker has that creative capability. But just like the speaker is able to take a vision and turn it into a work of art so is the painter with his paintings. Within the poem the poet is also trying to explain his process of writing. The poem itself is a simple yet put together well.

1 Comments:

Blogger Matt said...

I like the distinction between poets and painters. It is simple and understandable. But I agree, we all have our own talents, and just because a person is artistic, does not mean he/she can do all kinds of art equally well.

10:16 PM  

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