A poem by Beverly Stock.
Artistic barometer of a new democratic society
Social consciousness fuses with Folk art,
Celtic design and bits of Baroque
Anthesis with new industrial wealth.
No longer soaring rib-vault Gothic anatomy,
Art emerges graced with exuberant
Twists and meandering stem structures
Blossoms, only emerging buds.
Symbolizing purity and promise? Perhaps.
"Not art In the service of the people.
Art being done for its own sake."
Dissenters outraged by expressive style.
Casting furnaces melting iron into
Organic curves of lilies, swans and peacocks
Stylized art inspired by trade with the East,
Fueled by industrial prosperity.
The swirling plant-like Metro Gates
in Paris are witness to Art
"in the service of the people"
Sinuously curved iron inspiring travelers.
Beverly rarely writes in free verse. She promises not to try it too often.