Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) love poems and/or love poems about Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis). Read, share, and enjoy these Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems or see our other Ekphrasis (Ecphrasis) Poems.
Poet Destroyer A
beautiful, desire, imagination, soulmate, visionary,
Frozen flames pressed
between each page;
suddenly, I felt each passing note.
The painting on the wall began to breathe
gently the same colors repeated life.
I was so close; I felt every vibration
and there underneath the gloom,
the roof let in the luminance of the moon.
A memory unfolded while I held your hand,
repainting our years, a devoted love
at the heart of everything. Steam is drawn
from our hands. The canvas,
the beautiful canvas, tied by solid green-gold.
Flames-brushed each wall as ageing you and I.
In perfect harmony. TOGETHER
Connie Marcum Wong
nature, new year,
New Year’s Eve
I need to feel the trade winds blow
To know they have my heart in tow,
Here in the twilight of this hour
I feel the grandeur of God’s power.
The Sun, a ball of golden fire
Rises with my heart’s desire
That this New Year will offer love
As Sol begins to rise above.
How wonderful, the winter sky—
With mist filled clouds that float on by.
Sweet birds of beauty on the wing,
Portends the gifts New Year will bring.
© Connie Marcum Wong
My Muse is the New Year
Contest: Ekphrasis 12 Line Max
Sponsored by Rick Parise
death, family, health, history, life, loss, lost love, love, natural disasters
I was as high as the eyes could see
A giant dark cloud of pure misery
I seemed to roll as one with the wind
A giant black wall that had no end
I stripped the land and left it bare
Of the lives I destroyed, I didn’t care
Those who stayed I covered in dust
As their children died I broke their trust
From my hell many families did flee
Left to wander homeless in misery
I changed the word these words are true
Black Sunday brought darkness on you
I didn't see any direct link but just goggle
pictures of the dust bowl and you will see
what i have written for Brian's Contest.
The Dust Bowl - Alexandre Hogue - 1937
If I knew Picasso,
I’d say Pablo come and see.
Bring your canvass here,
And capture this beauty.
I’d ask him as he painted,
The things he’s thinking of.
If painting brought him peace,
As he paints a painted love.
I‘d watch as he stroked,
The canvass from his soul.
It would leave me in awe,
If I knew Picasso.
art, lost love
Her innocence in daisy plaits ,displayed
Such naievty was so soon betrayed,
Touching romance' nettle brought much pain
When discarded,by his disdain,
Tears welled upon her pillow,
Forsaken love long wears the willow-
A broken heart,no words could save,
Death's red poppy,petals her grave.
Inspired by Ophelia by John Everett Millais
Her movements express a sadness
As she dances to lost love
The center-stage reeling of emotion
While the orchestra throbs on;
And the ballet maiden weaves a lift
Though no one sees hidden tears--
Except a performance for art's glory
Unaware that her eyes can't see
The audience's waved ovation.
Brian Strand Contest 247
Dec 12, 2016
art, love, people
the drama of
of silver and
I thought this might be an appropriate sequel to my poem and Christie's original inspiration.
There in the midst
Of those ashes I see
A flame of humanity
Burning so brightly
Fuelled by love
There on bended knee
Who risked his
Life to save
A dog and her
Is Knighted a Prince
With a grateful lick
For: Joyce Johnson’s contest - Doggy Gratitude
Inspired by the picture
Awarded: First Place
art, depression, life
Female lips that don’t belong on me
Can anybody sense those colors are not mine?
I cry in blue, red , yellow twirls
just mutilating body that doesn’t belong to Soul
Incarcerated in a breathing mask
I look at YOU begging to see ME
As pupils burst the deepest love
Eyelashes can not flutter free
So gracious Nymph approaching silent me
Those candid, open lips Do belong on you
I grab my hands protective of the unknown
I’m just a paper mache… melting in the rain …
art, people, , memorial,
A fantasist,alive upon canvas,surreal
and yet..so very real his love-for her-
not concealed.There..floating for all
to see..childlike, innocence his lady
in white,for us to wonder..and delight
Inspired by Chagall’s ‘Lady in White’
A kiss,Klimt’s symbol of love nouveau,
suggestive rather than descriptive,yet
of time immemorial.Love upon a cloud
of gold,lost in that moment where time
does not exist.One with the other,alone
and yet..desire..and need in love’s power
then to exist.
Inspired by Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’
Listen to me recite these ekphrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
Songlike, melodious was her voice
Awestruck was he with her gentle beauty
In her love alone he could rejoice
Forgetting about his gentleman's duty
Dramatic was the scene when her father
Swiftly appeared, vivid his displeasure
Brave young man who held it altogether
His strength of character one could treasure
Mother lovely gentle emissary
But father stands huge, angry protective
Will mom's love restrain the adversary
Will her people skills be most effective
Love will triumph, youth will win his gold prize
Father will give to him his daughter as bride
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Charles Haigh Wood
Written: August 31, 2013
art, devotion, , cute,
The Sleep of Endymion
Endymion, a simple title I must impose upon
He, son of Zeus, fell in love with Huntress Diana
Goddess of the Moon, nightly she swooned
about him and bathed him in her light,
She went to Zeus, asking for his immortality- her plight
And thus Zeus granted her wish- for Diana to
adore Endymion every eve, he will be in eternal sleep.
His beauty, this simple shepherd, mythic
Diana's love- nightly shone from Olympus.
The Sleep of Endymion immortalized by a painter
Sits in the Louvre, for all to view
Anne Louis Girodet de Roussy-Trioson
Executed perfection in 1791-
The Maiden Moon and her lover
Forever as one.
I am the dawning man
The waking limb
An unbowed willow
You are the dusken girl
The tangled sheet
A dewed down meadow
We are sown seeds
Folded into the earth
Whose roots weave
And cannot be unpicked
We are green leaves
Laced with silk
In whose curl
We are a chrysalis!
Love seen in a Rorschach!
A dog eared page of poetry
That is sealed with glue
Rooted to the Earth
Your stare unmoving
Infatuated with mirrored beauty
That ignores your worship
Cursed to your destined place
Paralyzed by desire
Loneliness engulfs the heart
Punishment for those you broke
Sculptured resemblance alongside
A hand gripping your psyche
Dissolving similar to your physique
Fractured egg ventilates your ego
There a flower blooms
Lesson imparted by the gods
Conceited are not blessed with love
Thus the metamorphosis of Narcissus
Poem based of painting by
Metamorphosis of Narcissus (1937). Salvador Dalí
confusion, lost love
We drive and we sit and we think-talk
The wind blows words out of our mouths before we can
And through our satanic smoke rings
A small section of the Athenian catastrophe.
Unfolding with the falsely spreading lights…
You roll the windows up
And the top down
And we cloud gaze..
Out cocoon of heat is a shelter
From everything we are,
And everything we are scared to be...
Only a short while now.
Our cigarettes will run out,
And we will too
Eyelash wishes won’t save anything now…
You’ll never understand
Naïve little boy.
art, native americanhair,
‘his hair flows like a river’,
Is the painting that catches my eye.
The color scheme you used;
The makeshift frames you apply.
The complimentary colors used,
Gives quite a unique touch.
But there’s something deeper,
About this painting I love so much.
When I read at your books,
And your poetry’s first drafts.
It’s exactly what I needed,
To help me with my craft.
You’re my fellow genius, mentor,
Muse, and visual arts giver.
And the wonderful painter of,
‘his hair flows like a river’.
He looks into her eyes
Twinkling stars above him
lift him upon a cloud
Tiny buds open up
to taste the breath of life
Milk and honey sugar and spice
Light, tender, fluttering
Love imprisons a little heart
as mommy's kiss lingers on his lips.
"Give Mommy Some Sugar."
Painting by Tom McKinny.
art, hope, love, passion
Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer 1
Generous expanses of gold and silver
thy lady ''Adele'' sing your song of a fleeting love
ornate thy garb of eligence worn in a celestial dream
eyes of thy suspect float thy gown searching in disarray
overlapping hands guard a heart of unknowing passion
a calm hope bleeds a woman of intrigue and of lust....
A Painting by Gustav Klimt
appreciation, beautiful, rose, solitude, uplifting,
HIDDEN AMONG THE ROSES
by Jeanette Jones based on Portrait No 10,
Thistle in a Field, by Fidelia Bridges 1875
HIDDEN AMONG THE ROSES
This field full of roses,
what a vision.
Rows of primary and secondary
colors, streaming, at least a mile.
Among them the solitary thistle.
Beauty is the rose,
its spikes as the thistle,
that bows to hands that caress
it with love, along the way.
In this field of thorny ones,
though never chosen,
it receives a lot of love.
Charming in contentment
is the thistle among the roses.
Peter Lewis Holmes
Moto Guzzi outside the Tate
Oh glistening awesome motor stallion
your dovetailed bars, the windscreen’s sheen
you are indeed a work of art
each time I mount your leather saddle
your growling maelstrom comes to meet
your parody of love and travel
lest not to trust the judge’s gavel
thus speed the seed the heavens open
red as lust and sunshine clear
shine the night the organ’s treble
ring the changes speedy devil
stills God’s palate, rest the roar
Reason A. Poteet
What is this meeting of the minds?
Our callow Sarah’s been seduced.
Love must triumph
an heir in fact is introduced.
What is this meeting of the minds
while Sarah sits in shame?
It is not love!
I will not risk this life with him.
What is this meeting of the minds?
So wait I must.
And wait I will,
in time, perhaps, love will become.
Love Will Triumph
a painting by Charles Haigh Wood
A Strand of Aphoristic Brian
Brian Strand has no business, “knowing he”.
Writing Ekphrasis flowing poetry
His poetry is hypothetical
Professor of all things theatrical
Perfectionist, of succinct brevity
An archer with an eagle’s clarity
Economical adjectives spin, leaked
As he re-cycles gerunds as we speak.
Brian Strand is a living breathing abstract waiting to self express
We love you Brian!
She hides in the shadows of euphony
as the final door is locked
her desperate dream yearns forward
as repetitive steps fade in distant light
Breathless, finally alone-
her clothes drop upon the marble floor
with eyes of felicity
she dances endless within Monet's garden..
Verse / Ekphrasis
art, lost love, people
Passion buried like a stone
When Alma left Oskar alone;
Their anagram she was to unpick
Leaving him bereft,lovesick..alack
His studio & life,painted..black on black
*anagram of their Christian names & title to Oskar's famous poem he dedicated to his love
adventure, daughter, dedication, education, faith, family, children, happiness, imagination, inspirational, introspection, life, love, passion, people, philosophy, uplifting, visionary
mind body soul
from her small