by John Watt |
Like a Seurat painting
I view my life up close
and see a million tiny colored dots:
driving to work
writing a poem
playing a game
singing a song
going to the park on a Sunday afternoon
You view these dots
from the proper distance,
blend them together
with kind, generous eyes
and you see art
(an ekphrasis poem after the pointillism painting "A Sunday Afternoon
on the Island of La Grande Jatte", by Georges Seurat, 1886)
by Joanna Daniel |
appreciation, art, music,
GIRL PLAYING LYRE - by Tadeusz Styka
I'm a sweet girl,
Playing my lyre,
Music does whirl,
Quenching heart fire,
Hair flying free,
Eyes lost in dream,
Lyre defines me,
Sad strains soft scream,
Song of the lyre
Calls out to you,
Hands do inspire
I look for you,
As hands thrum tune,
And implore you,
Hear my soul croon,
Lyre chords haunt you,
Fingers strum slow,
Love notes taunt you,
Air set aglow!
25th March 2023
by Michael Jordan |
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
by 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
by Raul Moreno |
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.
by John Watt |
art, depression, night, sky, stars,
Upwards you gazed, poignantly painting me
like no one had before, nor has done since.
Concentric white and yellow circles. Free
of any common bearing or pretense.
I'd seen idyllic villages before -
The steepled church in sacred echo of
the cypress, looking down in fond rapport,
as olive trees embrace the town with love.
But never have I seen hills so inflamed,
nor moon so agitated and insane,
nor indigo sky eddies so untamed;
grappling to find the answers to life's pain.
Vincent, you were art's unheralded prince,
Like no one was before, nor has been since.
(an ekphrasis of Vincent Van Gogh's "The Starry Night")
by Brian Strand |
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
by Brian Strand |
of love locked out
singleness of heart
in the truth
a gilded tapestry
image of woman
by Ashley Conte |
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
by Brian Strand |
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.
by Mark Toney |
art, love, pain, perspective,
At first glance ...
Amid turbulent strokes
and vivid hues,
eyes mesmerized by
maiden's molten-red mane—
Love and Pain
her lover's nape
in tender embrace,
Second glance ...
Gent's deathlike pallor
portrays a chilling
Is love really her goal, or
is she nosferatu feasting
on a submissive soul?
Dark eyes reflect the
lurking specter's desire—
by Elaine George |
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
by Iolanda Scripca |
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 …
by Brian Strand |
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
by Amy Green |
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.
by Sara Kendrick |
bird, farm, life,
The country road split the wheat field in half
A murder of crows seemed to prefer the right
Hope they leave some to winnow from the chaff
Crows seem but wavey lines against the night
A spectacular sight in the twilight
Fields of wheat in the final golden stage
Ready for the harvesters to earn their wage
Golden grains that hungry men have desired
This art lifts up some memories to engage
Remember the dirt road our love once required
Artful work: Crows In The Wheatfield by Vincent Van Gogh
Written: February 11, 2023
by Sara Kendrick |
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
by Margaret Okubo |
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.
by Benjamin Amsden |
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
by Jillian Veitenheimer |
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
by Niki Lekkas |
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.
by Charles Henderson |
Oh thou tattered robe.
Lying folded neatly by the cross.
Thou dost cry and yearn for loss
of thy master.
He is no more.
Immortalized, canonized in rapture.
Doves so love his likeness, the cold statue
calls and they answer.
Cooing and preening their feathers in vain contradiction
to his teachings.
Attaining solace by placing their nests
within the cold likeness of St. Francis.
As thou pass him to the rose garden,
before the chapel,
See him in thy minds eye.
Fleeing from temptation, ordering redemption,
cast himself, naked amongst the rose.
The martyrs blood flowing red, and warm,
which forever removed their thorn.
For Brian’s Ekphrasis contest
by Jeanette Jones |
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.
by Rick Parise |
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
by Sandra Hudson |
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!