Glued on Food

The Clean Platter

Some singers sing of ladies' eyes,
and some of ladies' lips,
Refined ones praise their ladylike ways,
and course ones hymn their hips.
The Oxford Book of English Verse
is lush with lyrics tender;
A poet, I guess, is more or less
preoccupied with gender.
Yet I, though custom call me crude
prefer to sing in praise of food...

...Some painters paint the sapphire skies
and some the gathering storm.
Others portray young lambs at play
but most, the female form.
"Twas trite in that primeval dawn
When painting got its start,
That a lady with her garments on
Is Life, but is she Art?"'
By undraped nymphs
I am not wooed;
I'd rather painters painted food.
Food,
Just food,
Just any old kind of food...

...Never mind what kind of food.
When I ponder my mind
I consistently find
It is glued
on food.

(-Ogden Nash)

(practicing exercises and using an image I painted from Anne Abgott's book on watercolors: "Daring Color'