My poems have been described as travel
poetry, an implied criticism, yet one which I can appreciate. After all, first there was Homer . . .
Personally, I had enjoyed the label
'narrative poems' until I
in a critique of paintings by Jack Vettriano. (I have long admired his paintings for their sense of humour and audacious
cheek, as well as skill of execution.)
he had difficulty in finding a gallery which would exhibit his
work. Vettriano's paintings have been dismissed,
by some, as being just cartoons (say now, Breugel),
as humorous and satirical (something wrong with that?),
or soft porn
(really, Rubens?); too popular by far (
tut tut, Mozart, Handel
and Beethoven?), and as photo-realism (well, Vermeer, it takes considerable technique to realise that).
Yet, by those not of the establishment art world, Vettriano is generally
considered a sublime
impressionist, an evocative impressionist.
Evocative Impressionism also
best describes most of my poems. Otherwise, they could, of course, be
variously, as: Travel or
Road poems; humorous and satirical; realistic, porn, biographical,
nostalgic, and, worse yet, all of the above.
Evocative impressionist will do.
Listen to the poem