Welcome to Day 4 of the November Open Write. If you have written with us before, welcome back. If you are joining us for the first time, you are in the kind, capable hands of today’s host, so just read the prompt below and then, when you are ready, write in the comment section below. We do ask that if you write, in the spirit of reciprocity, you respond to three or more writers. To learn more about the Open Write, click here.
Our Host
Katrina Morrison lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma and teaches tenth grade English in Skiatook, Oklahoma. During the confining days of the pandemic, she found respite and community Ethical ELA’s Verselove and continues to participate in the monthly Open Writes.
Inspiration
The worlds of art and poetry meet in the ekphrastic poem. Whether you are viewing an original work in a museum or viewing it virtually, describing it through poetry is the definition of ekphrastic poetry.
Process
Select a work of art. It might be a famous work only available to you online or on the pages of a coffee table book. It might be a local work of art or one hanging in your home. Perhaps, posted on your refrigerator is the work of a child or grandchild.
Focus on the artwork. Find details you may have missed in prior viewings. Using whatever poetic format you choose, describe the work.
A familiar ekphrastic poem is Mary Oliver’s Blue Horses.
Here is Victoria Chang’s description of Edward Hopper’s Hotel Room.
My husband and I were lucky enough to purchase a painting by Stephen Smith at Tulsa’s Mayfest a few years ago. In our old house, it was inconspicuous, hung high above our big screen TV. Now it is at eye level in our new home. It is amazing the difference a change in perspective can make. I am looking at it now as I compose my ekphrastic poem.
Katrina’s Poem
Still water reflects
Bare-boned birches.
A single limb reaches desperately
For a long slow slip.
A streak of beige
Banks left to right.
It separates/joins
Raging leaves
In shades of
Cinnamon and saffron and curry
To their twins below which
Still water reflects
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may choose to use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
My photo didn’t attach, trying again
I’m so late today (and just posted yesterday’s poem a few minutes ago ?)
HEART
Most precious gift
given from the heart.
Covid days,
stuck inside.
Birthday gifts
homemade.
Combined effort —
husband and child.
Daddy/daughter bonding time…
best gift
a mom
could ever
wish for!
For my birthday in 2020 (April) my daughter got creative since shopping wasn’t an option. I’ve gotten many homemade gifts, but this one was a little extra special — she and her dad teamed up.
Thank you, Katrina, for this prompt!
Took a few tries, but here is the art.
Jennifer,
Sweet ode to a heartfelt gift. Those are the best.
As for pictures not loading, my friends had to post mine for me.
Thank you for this fun prompt. I have been trying all day to decide what artwork to write about. It finally came to me as I went wash my face. My son’s.
Silvery moon shining brightly down from the corner like a child’s drawing of the sun
Through the blueish purple of a midnight sky
Landing upon the monochromatic browns of his perch
Bringing focus on the greens and reds of the tree frog
A photo of the mosaic
DeAnna couldn’t post her picture, so here it is.
Beautiful poem! Even before I saw the photo, I could picture that little frog and all of the colors. I love the inspiration for this piece and that it came to you while washing your face. Thank you
DeAnna,
I hadn’t seen this piece by your son, but I’m glad frogs finally made it into your poetry. I like all the colors you mention and paint a mental picture.
I’ve missed the community here!!! I’ve loved reading through the last couple of days of prompts, but haven’t had a chance to post. I’m joining in….late, but joining. 🙂
My husband and I just discovered an artist based out of Miami, so I used one of his pieces…
Kre8’s “Dapper Dan” (click here to see artwork)
Dapper Dan slowly
removes his hat to
finally share his
ideas, his
thoughts, his
wonderings, his
voice.
Green and turquoise
and yellow and orange and
pink and red and
blue and purple
splatter.
Each color representative of
the brilliance within,
the brilliance withheld.
Not sure if the Dapper Dan is a reference to Harlem’s Dapper Dan—the artwork fits!—but I love the correlation of the splatter to the brilliance within and the brilliance withheld.
Thank you, Katrina, for this invitation. I thought immediately of a painting I had hanging in my room as a child (it was in my mothers room when she was a child because the little girl looked like her). I was devastated when the picture moved to my sister’s room because the little girl “looked more like her.” In reality, she truly does. But I had already convinced myself otherwise.
Self Portrait?
Two round brown saucers
gaze longingly and presently
into my blue almonds.
Brown waves are carefully
pulled back into a bow.
I brush my chubby and clumsy
fingers through the disheveled
straw sprouting from my head.
This kitten, playful and pure and
white and fluffy, could just as easily
be mine. I stroke my ragged stuffed
bunny toy just to prove how
gentle and careful I am.
When I look at her I think
I see myself:
young and soft
innocent and lovable.
Brunette.
Perfect brown eyes.
Soft kitten.
I want to be her so bad.
She’s my
grandmother and my
mother. She’s my sister
and my cousin Sam.
My best friend and
a reminder of who
I will never be
because
through the glass protecting
the little girl, I see my own
reflection clearly for the first time:
growing older and bony to the touch
difficult to deal with and tough.
I am blonde.
I have almond shaped, blue eyes.
I play with flat, hand-me-down toys.
I climb down
from the chair
so won’t stare
any longer.
Oh, the powerful shift in your poem. This is beautiful!
Rachelle,
This is such a poignant piece. That transition from seeing what we want to see to what we really are–beautiful. What a cute picture!
Rachelle
Wonderful poems. I can feel the longing to be the girl in the picture. However I can hear the truth and understand of the real you.
Thank you for sharing.
Rachelle, this was really beautiful and touching.
Thank you for the prompt today Katrina. This is something I wouldn’t mind trying with my students. This is the last painting I discussed with my students. I actually did a Halloween activity surrounding it. Your line,
“A single limb reaches desperately
For a long slow slip.” captivates me. Its like a mischievous little finger reaching for that blob of icing neglected by the knife of a parent who wants their child to sleep swiftly tonight. I decided to put a twist on this prompt, so here we go.
The Starry Night, turn it upside down.
See the long wispy hair, stringy and brown
Yellow drops of lit candle
floating on the wavy water.
Wind blows thoughts across
green algae as glimmers
of hopes and dreams
fish by to make believe homes.
A Van Gogh vision enhanced by mental instability
or mental clarity confused?
I was waiting for someone to write about this painting, and you did it, Jessica! Love descriptive imagery of “long wispy hair” and “Yellow drops of lit candle.” Beautiful!
Thank you Leilya. If I hadn’t covered it in class, it would’ve never made the cut!
Jessica, thank you for this! I’ve never looked at Starry Night upside down before! You described it perfectly!
Thank you Scott! I needed a different view…
I love how you took control of our perception of this piece by turning it upside down and then asking the tough questions. You help me to see this piece in a new light.
Thank you Rachelle! That’s the angle I was going for. I kinda needed to do this for myself.
I was thinking the same; I’d love to try this with students.
Love what you’ve done – why have I never turned Starry Night upside down??
Yes Britt, I just wanted to see what I could see from a different viewpoint and it definitely changes the perspective. Thank you!
This was my brother’s final drawing.
? ? ? ?
Unfinished Drawing
by Mo Daley 11/22/22
What is this creature?
A horse?
A unicorn?
A giraffe?
A bird?
A dragon?
Why the apple tree?
Why the mountains?
What were you thinking?
I have so many questions
that you can never answer
I miss you so much
Mo, I am sorry for your loss! You are so right: we have so many questions to people we love, who left us too early. This picture is a reminder of how special your brother was.
Peace and hugs.
Yes, so many questions, but I love the details and how the colors pop! Just came by to show some love. Hugs Mo.
So many questions…
Mo, I’m so sorry. Your ending is full of such loss: “I have so many questions / that you can never answer / I miss you so much.” Thank you for sharing this with us.
Katrina,
Thank you for this prompt today and your poem. I love this image “In shades of/
Cinnamon and saffron and curry”
For my poem I decided to use an image “Land of Plenty” that I shared with my students on Monday as an observational activity.
Woodcut in black
Leaves & stems
Thick & sturdy
Dwarfed by aluminum, cooper & steel
Looming gargantuan gods of progress
A graphite sky
promises a tempest &
quenching drink for arid land
Eyes leer among the cornstalks — do you see them?
Sharp points of barbed wire
tangle in colorless corn
wrap around bent wooden posts
Keep in
Keep out
Barefoot, a family wanders
Looking back
Looking forward
Keep moving
There’s everything
There’s nothing
for you here in the “Land of Plenty”
Wow Tammi, this is beautiful! And yes I see the eyes! Those leering eyes of hate and disdain. These lines, “There’s everything
There’s nothing” is a harsh reminder of this “Land of Plenty” if you meet certain criteria. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks Katrina for the opportunity to create this ekphrastic poem about this model gifted to me. It is very special, I took this (shadowy) photograph of it. It is leans in my front room.
Shapely she appears
her metal frame leaning
beaming with an aura
quite indescribable
Eyes shut, pouted red lips
circular bangle earrings
her metal frame leaning
on nothing but her pride
Her metal afro elegantly coiffed
with tiny florets perfectly arranged
a serene look that you’ll admire
and a single golden bangle to
match her earrings
It makes you wonder
who she is
where she is headed to
what she will wear
her metal frame leaning.
I love the rhythm of this poem, the repetitive lines and the subject. Good job!
Juliette, this is a beautiful model and an exceptional poem. “Eyes shut, pouted red lips
circular bangle earrings
her metal frame leaning
on nothing but her pride” Nothing but her pride, that’s a strong support, the backbone of a woman. Thank you for sharing.
From “unphotographed” yesterday to ekphrastic poetry today, you verse lovers are so sophisticated in your task choices. Thank you for the challenge, Katrina! I loved your mentor poem, especially these lines: “A single limb reaches desperately//For a long slow slip.”
There are so many beautiful and thoughtful poems today; I enjoyed reading every single one.
Here is my humble attempt for today. I attached the image below.
Lost Dream
Another heartbreak,
Another lost dream,
Agonizingly painful,
Brings your head down and
Seems like an end of the world.
Cry, dear child, it’s okay,
Tomorrow’s another day!
Let this soil, the mountains,
And relentless air of never-ending
Recharge your wounded soul,
Gently offering faith and hope.
Leilya, beautiful words of hope! Love the apostrophizing to the phot’s subject and the hopeful exclamation mark in your second stanza. Thank you for sharing this lovely piece.
Leilya, now that I have met you, I feel a deeper connection to your poem. Your compassion and kindness prevail! I love how tender your words are and how softly they land in my heart.
Beautiful reassuring words:
?
Leilya,
“Let this soil, the mountains,/And relentless air of never-ending/
Recharge your wounded soul” — love these lines. They convey comfort and hope. Beautiful poem!
Leilya, I remember you from YA LIT summit this past summer. I almost stopped reading the poems until my eyes caught yours. I had a lost dream moment today and these lines gave me hope, “Cry, dear child, it’s okay,
Tomorrow’s another day!” I will let my own surroundings give me the strength and peace to lift my head up and move on. Thank you for sharing.
How nice to reconnect in this space, Jessica! I am glad you find hope in my poetry lines. I, too, had a tough day today, and I think my mind chose this image subconsciously to remind me that tomorrow will be a better day.
Oh, Leilya, that second stanza is just gorgeous! I was enjoying the first one too; with the image, it is perfect. But then that second stanza, of “cry, dear child…” wow! It’s a scene-stopper. It sounds like providential advice, a gift from the heavens.
I was led here by @dogtrax, my friend Kevin Hodgson who generously (as ever) wrote a poem sparked by an ink drawing I did of the Kelvingrove in Glasgow, Scotland). I had never heard of the term «ekphrastic poetry » so I guess I have been writing in this form for ages.
The poem below comes from my blog touches of sense…
Engraving a rose
I paused, grief pitched.
It was leaking, ground up.
It was decaying, sky down.
Its canvas was crumpled.
Its fly sheet was fraying.
Its frame was haggard.
All shrieked of decomposition.
I salvaged a bag of pegs.
The A’s, I kept, as keep-sakes
I took four photos.
Its was an unwilling engraving.
It, however, had already become something else.
engraving.
A rose.
What a beautifully mysterious engraving. I love your description of the decay, the discovery and metamorphsis.
Thank you. I was marked by that image. I found it strangely disturbing it recalls for me skin and bones. A parent, a corpse.
I loved the process as grief finds resolution in transformation.
A rose in another form.
Simon — I love the way your poem conveys the process of creating art from something that is damaged. I especially loved these lines: “It was decaying, sky down” and “All shrieked of decomposition”
Thanks for that remark.
It cuts to the heart of my matter.
I suppose having been damaged, I need to art to heal.
Simon, welcome! Your artwork is beautiful, as is your writing. I love the ground up, sky down, frame, fly sheet, canvas, whole-being imaging of the engraving. Every particle of it is known.
thank you for your welcome.
quite honestly I haven’t really figured out where we are here.
wherever i am i appreciate the company. ?
I love the pairs of lines that you use and the parallel construction and the super descriptive verbs!
Thank you.
I don’t honestly know how I write this stuff.
It just flows out any old or perhaps new…
How?
?
Dunno.
Katrina, what a beautiful prompt — and a beautiful poem! What a picture you painted. Thank you. And Denise Krebs, if you see this — you talked me into another Emily poem, so thank you, too!
Look! Hera is a tiny dancer
Whirling, twirling peony prancer
Caught, there, in a moment’s time
To inspire future rhyme
Look how lovingly she clasps
Well eluding future’s grasp
Cares and worries have to wait
As round the grounds she trips and prates
Dressed in pink once (now in grey)
She knows nothing of the day
That sadness grips this frilly form
That small pink tutu once adorned.
No more of that, though – let’s, for now
Encourage her to take a bow
To dream of friends and family – flowers –
Rainbow days and superpowers –
And shield from this cheery sprite
A grey and pond’rous second sight
And leave her to her day of peace
Where sun and good times never cease.
P.S. It wouldn’t let me attach my adorable photo to accompany this, and I’m not sure why.
🙁
Got it, I think. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1gLajL9r8uA5NrT4Ihh0A81yhOV5JkZPczpJIbxSSO6o/edit?usp=sharing
Also the first line should read “Here”. XD
Oh, your little dancer is adorable, and the poem attracts me from the first lines:
“Look! Here is a tiny dancer
Whirling, twirling peony prancer.”
You painted a perfect picture of the little girl, Wendy! Thank you.
Wendy — There’s so much joy and hope in this poem. The images were beautiful. I especially loved these lines: “To dream of friends and family — flowers / Rainbow days and superpowers”. Emily is absolutely adorable!
I also had trouble attaching my image for some reason.
Wendy, I feel the NOW strongly in this poem – – celebrate the day, and let the future emerge. What a great message for all of us! Your tiny dancer is precious.
Oh, Wendy! Hooray! I’m so glad I came back to be able to love this second poem in your Emily series. So much to love here. It reminds me of Emily 16, in the switch at about the same place–the “But” in the first poem, and the “No more of that…” here. My favorite stanza is:
It holds mystery, as does the whole poem. I can’t wait to read more. Thanks for mentioning me, so I could find it easier.
I love Ekphrasis! Since I was in my classroom when I read the prompt, I immediately thought of my tree. Thank you for the reflective time!
It began last year as a seed of an idea,
a thought when earthquake retrofits
took a bank of windows from my room.
Then a sweet artistic student
attached herself to me and
Emily became my “Artistic Director.”
Together we created this tree–
last year it was an orange tree
for The Murmur of Bees,
and this year it transformed
into a pear tree
for Their Eyes Were Watching God.
Poems on each piece of fruit
in distinctly Spanish
or African American forms
and unique coloring from each student
give the tree its character.
Fluffy bumble bees hang
from elastic strings.
This year my new Artistic Director,
Ronan, and I added a butterfly,
a hot air balloon,
copper-wire twinkle lights,
and a partridge to sit in the pear tree.
My students, like the tree,
will grow with each coming year
blossoming into their full potential.
Cara, this is beautiful. What a great to make lemonade from lemons — maybe that should be a future tree? 😀
Ohhhh, I absolutely love the tree and all the uses you’ve found for it. It reminds me of a tree I had on my bulletin board a few years ago that I called The PoeTree. I need to do it again. Thanks for the reminder!
Love these lines:
? ? ?
Cara — This tree is so cool! What a wonderful experience for your students!
“Fluffy bumble bees hang/ from elastic strings.” — Love this!
wonderful poem and what a powerful piece of art you have there. I love how the fruit changes with the seasons (books) and how each year there’s something new added. Well done all around!
Cara,
I have enjoyed watching your two lengths of colored paper turn into this amazing tree. And you have made a lovely poem to honor the artwork of the tree and your students.
Katrina— writing within a visual is, by far, one of my favorite things! Thank you for this prompt. I wandered my house, looking for a piece of art, but kept returning to the picture of my grandfather in one of his proudest moments. Thank you for the opportunity to spend some time with him, and with your poetry!
My grandfather grew up on a small farm in a rural area south of Buffalo. At seventeen, he left home to find adventure, ending up in western Minnesota as a cowboy. I have this picture of him up on my wall. He returned to his upstate New York home, became a rural mail carrier, and wore a cowboy hat and string tie for the rest of his life.
I See You
Seventeen or so.
Barely a man,
but strong enough
to pose with your long rifle,
gazing with steely eyes into the camera,
in search of something
besides being the youngest of seven,
entitled to nothing.
You went West,
to become the man
your parents’ small farm
would not allow you to be.
You were just
the youngest boy
at home.
You wrote home of romance,
of cowboy boots
rattling the floor at barn dances,
long days in the saddle.
Independent. Strong.
A man, at last.
All of your hopes,
all of your teenage resolve
distilled in that photograph—
a message to the home folk.
“Look who I have become.”
Caught for the moment.
Recorded for eternity.
“Look at me. See who I am now.”
Gayle Sands
11/22
Wow! “Caught the moment”, was a creative way to merge the poem with the picture. There’s so many phrases that men need to consider today. My favorite “entitled to nothing”. Nice work
Gayle, this is such a lovely tribute, I think it captures that photo beautifully. And I love the power in the last line. <3
Gayle — Just love this whole poem, but especially this stanza:
You wrote home of romance,
of cowboy boots
rattling the floor at barn dances,
long days in the saddle.
Independent. Strong.
A man, at last.
I think this stanza really captures the hopes and dreams of a young man setting off to become an adult.
Gayle, I think it’s fantastic that you have this portrait. What a wonderful tribute to your grandfather. Loved his words her and your description of him staring into the camera. Brilliant!
Yellow Crater
(Helen Frankenthaler)
A do-nut of yellow.
Large spotches of red and blue above
smaller shapes of color that I love
erupt from the rim, not mellow.
Paint drops onto the white
shapes above a brown base.
A yellow table but balanced in space
An eruption of color moving and bright
with boldness and power unfolding
A painting of the hour, enjoying.
So vivid, and imaginative! “Colors erupting” combines Visual and tasteful imagery. Very skillful!
Susan, I love the action of your poem. The eruption and power are portrayed superbly through your language. Stunning!
“A do-nut of yellow” is so sweet. This poem could be alt-text for this image; it’s so precise. Yet, at the same time such fun with rhythm and rhyme.
This is a great prompt! Thanks for introducing this poetic form to me. The picture that I wrote about is in my living room and it is the cover art for my wife’s book. The artist is Natalie del Villar
Facing Forward
Gazing towards tomorrow
Memories and movements
shift in the lines of your face
Imperfectly perfect
History in stitches, scars and
smooth (a)symmetry, changing
with the light or a shift in
perspective.
Rivulets flow, fill spaces,
crest and recede–
veins, arteries, tears–
give life, record time
Constant and moving
Your face rises from
strong shoulders
Chin, cheekbone, brow,
Rise like the islands of an
archipelago.
Defiant, defining.
In your face is the face of
yesterdays and tomorrows
movements and memories
torn and layered
and always looking ahead.
That last stanza—
“your face is the face of
yesterdays and tomorrows
movements and memories
torn and layered”
metaphor and literal description. Wow….
Dave, this is so great! Love, especially:
“History in stitches, scars and
smooth (a)symmetry, “
and
“Chin, cheekbone, brow,
Rise like the islands of an
archipelago.
Defiant, defining.”
And that last stanza!
Beautiful musical language in this piece.
Dave, your poem etches the image of the artwork so clearly in the mind, with an exotic flair, intimately, as if the speaker is addressing a living person. A very-much admired one. Your words are as captivating as the painting. Love the pairing of opposites: stitches, scars, smooth; constant and moving. Defiant and defining – so well-done!
Thank you for such a cool prompt. I borrowed the image from a website.
Counter-Reflections
As the young child circles Art,
Pondering thoughts of her start.
She races again, again,
Only to end, where she begins.
Wonders will flow and grow,
as her pace will tow and slow.
Allowing her to gage,
upon circles of her age.
Her imagination keeps the pace,
In meditation, repeating prayers of grace.
Only then understanding the wood,
Longing for her first circle,
Only if she could?
Only if……..
“Repeating prayers of grace” is a phrase I am going to store away…. Thank you.
Longing for her first circle……wow, a great message for slowing down long enough to enjoy the moments and circles of today…..tomorrow, we can’t get them back.
Boxer, you’ve captured this artistic scene perfectly. Love the haunting repetition at the end.
Katrina, Ekphrasis is my favorite form for writing. Your poem draws us in with the stand of “bare-bone birches” and all the spicy colors. Such a beautiful scene.
I found a haiku on Jama Rattigan’s site that Linda Mitchell shared.
Sunlight filters through
Floods a whole room with color
I become the light.
This is beautiful, Margaret! I love it when sun from the outside lights up the human’s inside. Thank you for sharing.
I love this Margaret.
Wow, so many of Steve Hanks’ beautiful paintings were flooded with light. Such a gorgeous image of “becoming the light” as you view them.
In Stillness
We close our eyes
kiss
cry
holding tears we fear will fall
We close our eyes
pray
pause
whispering faith and hope
We close our eyes
breathe
live
rest
and ascend toward heaven
©Stacey L. Joy, November 22, 2022
Ooops, I forgot to say this is on my wall and it reminds me to be still.
The prayerful pose of the subject in your art directs you to those poignant one word lines. Beautiful.
Thank you so much, Stacey! I needed this poem today. My dear colleague and friend, who just retired a year ago, passed away this morning. I pray she will “rest and ascend toward heaven.”
I am so sorry for your loss. Yes, she will rest and ascend to heaven! My condolences, dear Leilya.
Thank you, Stacey! Hugs.
Stacey, this evokes such a sense of peace — both your poem and the picture — and the pacing and structure help to do that. Beautiful poem!
Stacey, there is such strength in both your poem and your picture! I love the repetition of “We close our eyes.” It adds such a meditative quality to your poem. Thank you for writing and sharing these!
Katrina, I adore your poem and the painting. The beauty of personifying a single limb overcomes me here:
Thank you for giving us this gorgeous gift and prompt today!
Katrina,
Thanks a lot for the stretch today. Capturing a piece of art with words takes a lot of thought! You did so beautifully with your mentor poem.
My first thought was to write about the beach . . . not just any beach but the beach at our family vacation home on Sanibel Island which got basically decimated by Hurricane Ian. I purchased a few pieces of art from there and about there. I just Google searched and found a painting that I was drawn to. I tried to describe but also felt drawn to lean on some figurative language.
Sea Cycle
Shades of blues and greens
holding hands and hugging
dating and marrying
fighting and separating
flirting and reuniting.
Shades of tans and whites
hugging each other and the blues
comforting and providing
nurturing and fostering
relying and needing.
Offspring and product
fading away and regenerating
assimilating back in
churning and cycling
darkening with mystery
endless connection.
Forever family.
~Susan Ahlbrand
22 November 2022
“Offspring and product”. What a unique way of telling us about your island… love it!
Susan, I love your title, the familial actions, and the last line is the perfect wave of love.
Katrina, I adore the challenge of writing ekphrastic poetry. I’m flying home today, longing to be back where everything is ordered and familiar like Grant Wood’s painting Near Sundown which is attached to the comment box. Due to time, I chose to write a haiku in response. Thank you for hosting today! Loved the color of your poem, and “raging leaves”.
Iowa’s Rolling Hills
lollipop trees grace
luscious breasts; shadows caress
their soft auburn curves
Barb Edler
22 November 2022
I love this beautiful poem and painting! The curves with your words “lucious breasts” are a perfect description.
Is this painting a Grant Wood? Couldn’t see the comment box info.
Yes, it’s a Grant Wood painting.
Ooooh! I love this picture, and the sensuality of your perfect haiku!
Love the picture and your poem, Barb! “Lollipop trees grace” is my favorite line. Such an interesting word choices here. Thank you.
Oh, my goodness. How sensual and beautiful is this haiku. Wow! The Grant Woods painting and your words are delicious!
because we will stop eventually
we paint the things we’ve seen
in our fonts, feeds, & poetry
because we will stop eventually
we go out into the world to sense
living green swaying desert glacier heat
because we will stop eventually
we color the flowers of our mind
with saturated shades resisting fade
though we need not take it with us–
whatever it is– for another may find in it
new shades, sway, verse in what remains
Thanks, Kevin, for your friend’s work. Just what I needed to find my poetry today: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g742IM-dF6A
Sarah, I adore the beauty of your poem, the idea you open with: “because we will stop eventually” and how you weave the reader through a beautiful journey. From the “living green swaying desert glaciers” to “saturated shades resisting fade”. The final words “verse in what remains” is the perfect final note to your incredible song. I can hear your voice and feel the rhythm. Thank you!
Sarah, I love the repetition, sharing why we do what we do here, to stop time. “Verse is what remains.” Thanks for providing this space for our verse to live.
Because we will stop eventually…all the more reason to record our thoughts today…
«because we will stop eventually.. » that reminded me of an emergent collaborative piece with my friend @telliowkuwp Terry Elliott
Horrified by green.
Whose last line is:
“because we will stop eventually.”
Sarah, you found such beauty inspired by Simon Ensor.
Your poem reminds me of your decision to hold onto few things and not go load up on free books at NCTE.
Thanks, Katrina for this invitation to revisit art. I’ve chosen an illustration by
Muhammad Asad Siddiqui, the artist for my picture book CINDY & SANDY Learn About Elephants (2022) You’re right. We see things differently when we view art anew.
But Mommy!
Family reading together.
It doesn’t matter much whether
They’re reading the same book,
Or one each chose as their own.
As long as they can ask each other questions,
Family reading time is a revered session
Between 6:30 and 7 in this home.
“What’s this word, Mommy?”
Asks “Tommi;” Thomasina for short.
“Rozzie’s not readin’ nothing that great.
All she wants to read is books about sport.”
“That’s okay, Sweetie. She’s readin’.
Readin’ is a time for learnin’ anew
Even on a familiar topic.
Now hush for a moment.
I’m tryna’ learn something anew.”
“But Mommy!”
“Go ask Daddy, sittin’ over there on the sofa
He’ll be glad to see what you’re seein’
And hearin’ what you’re learnin’ while readin’.”
Family reading together
It doesn’t really matter whether
They’re reading the same book
Or one each chose as their own
As long as they can ask questions
Family reading time is a revered session.
Thanks for this window into the world of family reading time.
Excellent. Love the picture and your entrance into the moment…
What a sweet concept. I guess in all my years, I haven’t really thought of “Family reading time” Duh! How brilliant. Love the drawing by Siddiqui and your words to go with it. The repetition of lines at the beginning and end are effective and provide bookends of the important concepts.
Katrina, thank you for leading us here today with your prompt. I love how the change of perspective helped you appreciate this beautiful painting more. I love the color words you chose–“cinnamon and saffron and curry” – Wow, perfect descriptors, and bonus, they fill up our senses.
I wrote about a painting my daughter made in high school, which has been with me since. It’s even the image on my blog header. Shoutout to Mr. Furlong, art teacher extraordinaire, who really helped her find her way artistically. I tried a triolet today, inspired by Linda Mitchell’s triolet yesterday.
Dark and pastel petals play
Filaments reach to the light
Your art journey took off that day
Dark and pastel petals play
Some senior year fears allayed
With Mr. Furlong’s keen foresight
Dark and pastel petals play
Filaments reach to the light
Denise,
I enjoyed reading this aloud. My tongue appreciated the repetition’s music, and my heart did indeed start to “reach to the light.”
Peace,
Sarah
Denise, what an incredible and beautiful piece of art. I love your use of repetition of “filaments reach to the light” and “dark and pastel petals play”. What a wonderful way to also honor Mr. Furlong’s influence in this poem. I can hear your pride and love for your daugher in this poem. Magnificent! I hope you can share this with Mr. Furlong.
Denise, I’ve always loved visiting your site for this bright and welcoming image. I didn’t know that your daughter was the artist. How special! The triolet form works well here with the repetition of play.
I like illiteration and the repetition of the lines. The artwork is outstanding for high school. Yes, she had a good teacher who taught her about color, shape, and space.
Just love the sound of the words you beautifully put together, Denise! “Filaments reach to the light” is such a hopeful image. Thank you!
Denise, the artwork is just gorgeous; it’s glorious as your blog header. The triolet works magnificently here, lines weaving in and out like the color bands and light in the painting. I especially love the metaphor of “filaments reach to the light’ for the artist herself, the subject. Beautiful!
Denise, both the your words in the poem and the paint in your daughter’s brush dance and play in my mind as I read and view, considering the idea of a HS senior fleeing the fun of high school and fearing the unknowns after graduation. That may not be the case for real, but that’s what plays out in my mind reading your poem and viewing her painting.
Anna, thank you. That is exactly what I meant–the fleeing fun and fearing the future…It was certainly true in my own life. Thanks for the comment, for I just revised that to…
I’m going to show it to my daughter now and see if she can relate too.
When first of this art work I heard,
I thought, aghast, how absurd,
but regardless of if it’s “worthwhile,”
(it’s titled, you’ll note, Complex Pile)
You need to see the size of this monstrous installation art piece.
https://www.widewalls.ch/magazine/paul-mccarthy-complex-pile-2007
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Thank you Katrina for your mentor poem and your prompt! That Stephen Smith piece is beautiful, and your poem certainly captures that! I especially like the line “a streak of beige / Banks left to right.”
Scott, I’m laughing once again – – what a deep subject! It’s been awhile since I have read a limerick, so this is a treat, too….kind of adds to the rhythmic humor of…..well,…..the food cycle. You never, ever, ever cease to amaze me and bring a needed chuckle to put things in perspective to the grand scheme of life.
Scott, thank you. Thank goodness, this “monstrous installation” is deflatable.
Scott,
Love the commentary of this piece (your poem) and that piece (Complex Pile) and all the pieces together which are not absurd at all but quite lovely (not stinky or absurd) but absolutely an argument about what ought to live in our public places.
Cheers,
Sarah
Oh my, Scott, that is quite the image. I kind of anticipated a big pile of poo. Still laughing and your words “aghast” and “absurd” are spot on.
Scott, your poem and your choice of artwork made my day!
Scott— you bring joy to my soul every time you write! And that sculpture is…wow!
The limerick-y structure is perfect for the art pile you describe. I clicked over to the link and thought “is that what I… Yes, it is, lol!”
Katrina, thank you for hosting us today and bringing the beauty of art and poetry. I love the colors of cinnamon and saffron and curry you share as spices in your poem. My dad is paring down and recently gave me a painting by Margaret Keane entitled After The Storm. She’s the subject of the movie “Big Eyes.”
Kim, these animals certainly look happier than our kids are likely to have looked after even a 40 hour car trip! 🙂 (We drove from MA to CA with our preteens.) Thanks for sharing the artwork. It’s interesting.
Kim, these animals look pretty good after their long trek below deck! Maybe it’s the anticipation of life under the promise of the rainbow that does it for them as it often does for us. Thanks for sharing and reminding us of the sign of hope in each rainbow we view.
Kim, we don’t tend to think in terms of “under the rainbow,” but that is really where we are. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, the title is everything here and is a nod to our first days of writing this month. I keep wondering about the reasons for 2 and how they animals must have “felt” in the partner they were assigned for this journey. So appreciate the focus on “hope” and “fruitful features” though, but that look in “those eyes”! What were they really thinking?
Love this,
Sarah
Kim, what a wonderful painting. Your word choice throughout is priceless. Loved “a lone dove fluffs its feathers” and “just look at those eyes”. Fantastic poem tributing the animals of Noah’s Ark.
Arrival! Just look at those eyes! They are both amazed and relieved. What a wonderful art piece to muse about today “Arkphrastic” is a clever play on words.
Kim – you know I love your haiku, and a haiku story above all! Clever, clever wordplay in the title; its lightness so fits the artwork and the light in the big eyes of those animals. The hope of fruitful futures – you have done it again – sheer delight!
Katrina, I am amused that yesterday’s ‘unphotographed” prompt is followed today with this one focused on art! It’s liek divine design… your lines are so beautifully, concisely descriptive. That idea of separates/joins is captivating to me; it is one I’d like to explore at length. Thank you for this invitation and your magnificent models.
I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this before – since it’s the artwork that came immediately to mind, I shall write of it again:
Ripe Tomatoes
Long ago
your father
gave me a card
with a painting
of a woman
in a long white chemise
holding a basket
of ripe tomatoes
in her thin arms
her body is curved
toward the child
at her feet
an overall-clad boy
with a mass
of sunlit curls
atop his head
bent in eating
a tomato
straight from the vine
your father said
the painting
so reminded him
of you
and me
your curls
were black
of course
instead of gold
and I was never
a gardener
yet I can smell
the tangy greenness
of tomato plants
as the summer sun
beats down
over the rolling hills
and old barns
and tall yellowing grasses
rippling in the wind
could be a scene
from around
the bend
even now
I feel the
warm tomato skins
under my hand
as I think
of the abundance
I have been given
—take, eat,
my summer child
of the bounty
of the vine
so deeply rooted
so long ago
and know
love never ceases
to preserve
transcend
and grow
“Ripe Tomatoes,” Robert Duncan.
Fran, how did you write something so beautiful so early in the morning based on a card received long ago? I’m in awe. Your short lines and simple language pack an emotional punch.
Fran, I can surely see you here in this garden, though you say you aren’t a gardener. Really and truly, you are. You just may not grow vegetables or flowers. You grow writers. You grow people. You grow lives. That tomato is but a metaphor for the cultivating that you do. The last part is simply divine. The growing continues, generation after generation, preserving the legacy of the past and of today.
Fran, your use of imagery takes me from this cold November morning to a warm tomato harvest. In particular, “the tangy greenness of tomato plants” and “I feel the warm tomato skins under my hand” put me in the picture. Thank you.
Ah, you are a storyteller and imaginer-extraordinaire, Fran. This is so beautiful. I love first the description of the the painting, and then the gentle weaving into your lives and futures. So gorgeous.
I love this directive to the child: “take, eat,
my summer child
of the bounty
of the vine
so deeply rooted
so long ago
and know
love never ceases
to preserve
transcend
and grow”
With old, sacred language, you set a tone of reverence for this field and your position in it.
Whoosh. You words pulled me into and through the poem and the painting…
Wow! The description in this poem is stunning, and the choices in the line breaks are moving. I love the 3 stanzas from “your father said the painting so reminded him of you and me”. The contrast in curls and then the “yet I can smell” is such a compelling winding narrative moment.
This is lovely, Fran! So well written and well crafted, especially your last stanzas: “so deeply rooted / so long ago / and know / love never ceases / to preserve / transcend/ and grow.” So beautiful!
Katrina, I’m popping in to say thank you for the wonderful prompt and links to other ekphrastic poems. I love Oliver’s Blue Horses. I have to dash off this morning–if I don’t get back here with a draft, it’s not because I didn’t love it. I ran out of time!
I’m popping back in to share this blog post. I’m fan of Jama Kim Rattigan’s Alphabet Soup. Every Tuesday she focuses on art in some way–and she blogs for Poetry Friday each week. Today’s art is aMAZing–totally worth a peek for poetry inspiration as the artist specializes in “emotional realism.”
https://jamarattigan.com/2022/11/22/steve-hanks-master-of-figurative-watercolors/
Bye, again. lol
Thank you, Linda, for sharing Jama’s post. Those Steve Hanks’ images are gorgeous. And thanks for the triolet inspiration from yesterday. I tried one today.
Wow! Those images really are stunning!
Thank you, Linda!
A connected friend of mine – Simon Ensor — just launched a website to sell his art and I did buy one of his pieces but he has many intriguing works. I chose one of his pieces for this prompt.
Kevin
Inside The Kelvingrove
Branches tangle
the mind, scraping
bare skin and
buried bone,
and still,
we find ourselves
here, alone,
the path on which
we wander always
seems to take us home
inspired by Simon Ensor’s “Kelvingrove” artwork
https://www.simonensor.com/shop/p/kelvingrove-2022-orginal-ink-drawing
for Open Write
Such a complete circle in this. Lovely.
Hi Kevin. I love how you’ve brought us right into the Kelvingrove. It’s a little unnerving, but you bring us home safely. Well done!
Kevin, I love how “Kelvingrove” is one letter off from your name. Looking at the art, I immediately saw the little berries or round things and thought about them as people watching others from afar, kind of like what it must be for angels in heaven sometimes if they ever hover over loved ones, getting their people through tough times. I find this piece very intriguing and even thought of the path as somehow representing a hedge of protection even though it could also be seen as rough times. But in the end, the “seems to take us home” line prevails. We come back to where we belong.
Kevin, your poem helped me see the dual nature of the ink drawing as a mental image, (branches tangle in the mind), and a depiction of a place which exists in the physical world (scraping bare skin). Maybe, the “buried bone” represents a further metaphysical possibility. Am I reading too much into it?
Kevin, what a wonderful image and your poem, with the sweet and subtle rhymes so lyrical and musical (as all your poems are) really hits home. The path jumps out of the image after reading the ending to your poem. Thanks for introducing us to Simon’s work.
Thank you, Kevin, for introducing me to Simon Ensor. Just what I needed to find my poetry today.
And here..”the path on which/we wander always/seems to take us home.” Whew. I am getting weepy thinking about this line (making your poem about me- sorry). This is a call for me to do a bit more wandering and less plotting-planning.
Kevin, I really love the sound of this poem–the rhythms and subtle alliteration hint at wandering in the woods and the last 3 lines are perfect and say so much!
Kevin, this line drawing is the kind of art that would reveal something “different” each time we viewed it. I like to look at art when I ride my exercycle. This art and your poem would keep me going for hours!!!!