There is no adequate definition for art.
It doesn’t have to be pristine or smart.
It all depends on the eye of the beholder.
It could be a beanbag draped on a shoulder.

It might even be a square of blue ink,
Or a worn out dishtowel portrayed as a sink.
The form of art that I like the best
Is the kind that puts my mind to a test.

Let’s not forget that art can be written,
Set in ways, the heart to be smitten.
Poems and stories with words that describe
Life’s wonders and beauty as one can contrive.

A song and a dance bring joy to my heart,
And, for me, they’re my favorite form of art.
Whatever the mode, art starts from within,
An expression of ego, as a place to begin.