Wide World of Arts

Velázquez looked down on his sitters

They thought to hold a contest for

The grandest forms of portraiture

To accommodate the talent-free

And cash in on celebrity.

So the call to paint was made,

A grateful nation’s light and shade

Was wielded and the packing crates

Swept in as if on roller skates.

 

The problem was, the open field

Like an open mind, often concealed

Hard work forsworn, the sweat that stings

And shows the empty state of things.