All are welcome to participate in the 5-day Open Write — from one day to all days, depending on your schedule. There are no set rules for the length of a poem, and you are free to modify or reject the prompts as you wish, allowing you to write whatever is on your mind or in your heart. We firmly believe that the best writing instructors are actual writers, and this platform offers a supportive environment for you to nurture your writing journey. Just scroll down to share your poem in the comment section. For more information about the Open Writes click here.
Found in Artwork
Erica Johnson lives in the suburbs of Little Rock, Arkansas but teaches in the rural town of Vilonia. She has dedicated a dozen years to helping juniors and seniors earn college credit for English. Erica is currently improving her teaching game by attending Arkansas Leadership Academy. This decision came out of the work she does as the “fearless leader” of Teach Write and the Teach Write Academy. Erica spends her non-writing time in the company of her “grumpy old man” dog, Cooper, or setting new personal records at Crossfit.
Inspiration
This summer I visited my local art museum because I wanted to find new places to inspire my writing. What better way to inspire one form of art than with another? I was surprised when I was drawn not to the artwork, but to the placards next to each piece: the artists’ statements or the descriptions of the collection (one museum collection I looked at referred to this as the “label text”).
Instead of writing ekphrastic poetry, I wrote found poetry. I walked around the exhibits and borrowed words and phrases hidden right beside each artwork and scribbled them into my own notebook. If you’re the kind of person who doesn’t stop to read artist statements, you should reconsider. There is so much inspiration to be found in just the description of the artwork, let alone the art itself. I am hoping today’s writing will encourage you to find inspiration in artwork or the words written about artwork yourself!
Process
My process began by taking a trip to the Arkansas Museum of Fine Arts, but you don’t have to visit a physical museum to make this writing work! There are plenty of online art collections you can view or even wikipedia pages for art work that you can turn into a found poem.
Once you have your artwork, take a look at the text that was written about it. This may take the form of an artist’s statement, label text, or even a wikipedia entry. I recommend reading through it while looking at the artwork and then pulling the words and phrases that resonate or inspire you. Also consider, if you are drawn to multiple pieces of artwork or a collection, you can even weave words and phrases from a variety of paintings to create a poem about the collection as a whole.
The poem I will share below was written after viewing the photography of Deanna Dikeman – so you don’t even have to limit yourself to paintings! After taking in the photos in the museum, I carefully read the descriptive text posted next to the artwork. I wrote down words and phrases I liked from the descriptive text, but also added my own that came to me as I studied the artwork. In the end, I could not escape the ekphrastic tendency and assembled them into the poem you will find below.
Erica’s Poem
On A Wave Goodbye by Erica Johnson
(Inspired by Leaving and Waving by Deanna Dikeman)
When you pull away
you never expect it to be
for good.
Bye –
is not like ocean waves
that recede and return
a wave good-
bye
Eventually means standing
alone
figures growing distant and
small
as you drive away and
away and away…
Until all you see
as you go
is the
empty space
once occupied by a wave
Goodbye.
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may 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.
Thanks for your suggestion today, Erica. I hope I can morph this into an assignment for next semester’s creative writing class. It clicked for me with Hopper, and I came up with what I did because the painting really spoke to me, but not for too long.
NIGHTHAWKS
We are gathered together
alone in the bright,
facing left to darkness outside
facing the darkness right,
and leaning on the counter,
leaning on loneliness,
and the last of now
cold coffee,
dark swirled in a white porcelain cup,
moments before our leaving.
Rex, the moody atmosphere of Nighthawks is captured well in your poem. I really like the facing lines and the “leaning on loneliness” expertly captures the sense of solitude each person in the painting projects. Loved your last two lines. Powerful!
Day late … this Found Poem was inspired from a photography display at a National Park museum where we hosted a Poetry In The Park gathering of teachers yesterday for Write Out project/National Day on Writing. I used the Curator’s Notes explaining the photographs for a found poem …
Source: Curator’s Notes for Photography/Springfield Armory National Historic Site
Exhibit Art
In Everyday
Perspective:
An experiment
– a chance moment
simply demonstrates a century —
the daily life of snapshots
Cameras – creativity – compose
towards the artistic
Focus
on the life
of portraits
adjusting slight imperfections
through a window of time;
a precise moment
Images speak
Can you hear?
Immerse yourself in art
–Kevin
Kevin, I am running late too – with comments. I had looked so forward to reading all of these last night, but we got in too late. So today, I get a double delight of two days of poems. This is lovely, what a wonderful way to celebrate the National Day on Writing – and you did it with the notes! I love this part best:
imagrs speak
can you hear?
leaving a question hanging is a great way to make an impact.
Thanks Erica, interesting prompt. Made me stand, stare and contemplate.
Mother and Child
Hanging
for years
I made
my own
Interpretation
As we do
At first sight
I knew
I would not
stare
daily
It had been
chosen.
framed
and hang
Huge painting
of
Mother
and son
or
daughter
still cannot tell
The little one’s
dainty eyes
follows me
Another
tells me
Southern tribe
The attire!
Underdressed
No
That was it
I guess
warm climate
needs
skin to cool off
Grows on you
I can
now
stand
and
stare!
Thank you, Erica, for today’s prompt and a chance to revisit art! I love your poem, which to me looks like a wave itself.
While I have many favorite artist, but at this time of the year, swamp with work, I dream about holidays. So the inspiration for my today’s poem comes from Thomas Kinkade https://www.parkwestgallery.com/thomas-kinkade-christmas-paintings/
In Christmas Memories
A scene of warmth,
And joy, and cheer
With tranquil cottage
On a hill,
With smoke spiraling
From chimney,
Inviting us
To magic times.
The tethered horses
By that house,
Adorned in twinkling glow
Of ornaments and lights
Stand,waiting for festivities
Under soft whispers
Of falling snowflakes.
Beautifully written. Leilya, you begin with “a scene of warmth”, which captures the essence of the whole poem and end with “Under soft whispers/ Of falling snowflakes.” The contrast is so meaningful. I decided to write the comment before enjoying the painting and you did draw out the true comfort of that particular painting. Thank you
Leilya,
So much of invitation is the smoke spiraling from a chimney in the winter. It gave me a sense of a sequel to Frost’s poem.
Bringing the Past to Present
An ekphrastic found poem
By Amanda Potts
Inspired by Ronald Jackson’s painting “In a Day, She Became the Master of Her House” and the artist’s words in an interview with Visionary Art Collective
Understand that historical experiences
I came from a lineage of black landowners, farming in the South.
have transgenerational impacts;
My parents led communities in the organization of multiple boycotts against racial injustices.
understand that people’s desire to survive and prosper, amidst challenges and obstacles
Despite continual threats, harassments, and organized retaliations
will indelibly shape a people’s resolve
their efforts eventually led to a US Court of Appeal’s decision,
to survive, prosper, and simply live life.
ruling in favor of forcing the area school districts into full desegregation.
Thank you for sharing your poem, Amanda! I saw this painting when perusing art today, but didn’t know much about the artist and the work. Your links helped understanding the message of the painting and your poem. Why do people have to always fight for what should be given – the right “to survive, prosper, and simply live”? Thank you!
I’m glad someone else was struck by that image – it really caught my eye – and then when I read his history… I knew I wanted to share.
Thanks Amanda, How encouraging! The young lady in the photo reminds me of some I see of various cultures who seem determined to “survive, prosper, and simply live life” and we better get out the way and inspire them along the way!
They’ll be there to take if us when we need them. 🙂
A piece of history found in Art. Amanda, thanks for your selection.
Amanda, wow! What an interesting artist and the body of work mesmerized me. You chose the perfect lines for this found poem. It tells the story of his family and their passion for justice in just 10 lines! I love this!
Inspiration- http://loc.gov/pictures/resource/fsa.8d19840/
I decided to revisit and revise a poem I wrote based on artwork a few years ago. Thank you Erica.
Women Working at the Bus Depot
Mamie saw a bus broken down and knew it needed fixing
It sat by the road for weeks.
Someone towed it to the bus yard and it sat there
more days. Meanwhile women going to work were crammed
on buses while 5 broken ones just sat.
After another week, Dorothy mentioned it to
Mamie and the two of them put their heads and skills
together.
The next day at the yard, they looked under the hoods
and realized it was simply a transmission issue for 4 of the buses.
Within a week, the buses were repaired and 3 had new tires,
thanks to the brilliant and engineering ladies.
The women stopped waitressing and the
Bus Depot hired them full time.
Eventually the City of Beaumont thanked
them for their contributions and a few months
later, gave them two young men
to assist them.
They continued working there many years
after the war was over.
By Seana Hurd Wright
Hi, Seana, thank you for introducing me to this painting and the story of Mamie and Dorothy. Such amazing women!
So many messages here, resilience, motivation, empowerment and more. Thanks for sharing the important messages through the picture and history. It leaves us with questions about the present day.
Hi Seana,
I love this story in your poem! I had never seen that photo and would’ve never thought about the history behind it, so thank you! Did you create the story or is it true? I wanted to learn more and was in a rabbit hole of pictures without information. This is fascinating!
Hi Stacey,
According to the picture,on the library of Congress website, the women’s names are Mammie Fairchild and Dorothy Mason. The picture says they’re working on a bus at a city transit company.
I made up the story after looking at the picture for a while.
When visiting the Cleveland Museum of Art a few years ago, I came across a painting by Emil Carsten, Wood Interior. It is an Impressionist landscape. I sat in front of this painting for a very long time and noticed the play of light and peace it exuded. It is now one of my favorite paintings.
Calling Me to Step Into the Woods
Luminescent
filtered light,
subtle
evocation of atmosphere,
meditative
mood,
tranquil
retreat from city life,
complemented
by 16k gilded frame.
Cathy,
Thank you for sharing your favorite painting — knowing you it doesn’t surprise me that this is your favorite painting! I love the words that you chose to go along with the image and yet, the painting is so much more grand than the 16k gilded frame and I think your words indicate that!
I notice the first word – luminescent – which really sets the tone for the poem right through the line “retreat from city life.” And then there’s the last two lines (am I wrong or are these almost tongue-in-cheek?) where this subtle, meditative retreat is “complemented” by a “gilded” frame. I read this as a send-off reminding me that the atmospheric retreat is much more valuable than the frame.
It was meant as tongue in cheek. I played with a bit and wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. Thanks for noticing it.
Cathy, I love the painting you chose. The very first word of your poem drew me into it. This “luminescent / filtered light” envelops the entire picture. Beautiful poem!
Erica, I’m so glad you left the door open for us to write about photos. This morning, our city in Western Michigan awakened to a double rainbow glowing across the sky. My poem reflects the responses to photos posted ALL DAY LONG! BTW, Nancy White, one of our OP poets is the artist for OUR book that we called RAINBOW REMINDERS.
RAINBOW REMINDERS
Looking at photos of rainbows
Being posted on Facebook today
Reminds me not just of our book with that name
But also, the Creator and His promises. They stay.
The colors of the rainbow, from red to violet and blue
Helps us see diversity and reminds us to be true
Be true to our heritage and honor that of others
Giving credit to our ancestors: our fathers and mothers.
Seeing the colors come out after clouds and rain
Helps us in others our faith to sustain,
Things may look bad, and we may feel sad
Then come seven colors so light and bright
Promising faithfully, all will be all right.
Thank you for sharing, Anna! I love the poem title “Rainbow Reminders” as it makes me feel hopeful as well as the final three lines, reasurring that “all will be all right.”
[Note: I’ve taken up watercolor painting with an amazing artist, Marilynne Bradley as my teacher. She shares her life and artwork: https://www.facebook.com/marilynne.bradley .]
Ode to Marilynne Bradley
A cellist
becomes an architect’s right hand, rendering exacting images,
becomes a teacher,
becomes an inspirational leader,
becomes a watercolorist,
becomes a tight arc in the circle of meaningful connection;
a muse
with a compelling song,
a jingle of laughter,
tales of lives unfolding one upon another,
never static,
always peeling the onion of her evolution,
while
showing what “loosening-up” looks like,
letting water find its course through the paint,
veining in undulations
across
the paper, blurring the edges,
blending our imaginations through dark purples, blood reds, pale yellows
to see deeper than the flat sheet
and into the distance, storied in secrets,
leaving us
with surprises, challenging our eyes
to pay attention,
follow the shadows,
notice the play of light against dark,
reminding us
that what is seemingly not there
is indeed
right before our eyes.
by Susie Morice, October 21, 2023©
[Below is one of her pieces, “Dance of the Seven Sails.”
Susie,
I see now why your paintings are so gorgeous. I love “Dance of the Seven Sails” and it’s stained glass effect that echoes the joining of myriad pieces in your poem honoring Marilynne Bradley. Her art is magnificent and has me thinking of and seeing my dead hostas as full of life. I love the generative format of your po and the way it honors transformations and becomings we can all experience.
Ohhh, Susie, my friend! This luxurious poem speaks volumes about the process of painting and the evolution of a painter/artist (you)!
I wish you had shared your own painting too. I know my jaw would have dropped.
Love, love, love all the delight your poem brings to art and art brings to your poem!
💖hugs!
The repetition of becoming in the first stanza was powerful in my opinion.
Susie, your poem is beautiful. The words move effortlessly to show the power of watercolor, and the lovely connection between the artist, the teacher and the art. Her work is amazing and I’d love to see your pieces, too. Love you, Susie, and am so happy I got the opportunity to read your poem today.
Susie, thank you for introducing us to Marilynne Bradley and her art, “Dance of the Seven Sails.” This is a wonderful tribute. It allows us — as you suggest of paintings — “to see deeper than the flat sheet.” She seems quite remarkable! Thank you for this ode!
Susie,
I loved the always peeling the onion of her evolution. I am also appreciative of how you capture the role of the artist, who is always leaving us, but reminding us. The lint of creativity now a part of our future process.
Erica, thank you for the invitation to examine an artist’s words. I’ve found a lot of different perspectives and struggled a bit to find my focus today with writing. I’ve blended a few various voices in my poem.
An Artist Speaks
I create my art
from my heart
never from my head
but it takes courage
and I’m striving
giving voice to the world
through my pain (t)
Barb Edler
21 October 2023
Barb,
Theres a reason the word *art* is in *heart*. Yes, “giving voice to the world” is the mission. Your poem is a perfect response to AI generated art. It’s never from. the heart, so it’s heartless. I’m mesmerized by your ambiguity in *pain(t)* and the brilliance in this verse.
Oh, Barb. Such a clever parenthetical at the end there. And I noticed the contrast in tone from the whimsy in the rhyme to the turn toward pain at the end then back to the wink with the t. Lovely way to show the courage.
Yes, Barb — you do justice to the art. And always I feel that it “takes courage.” I love your voice…and you. Susie
Barb, very true. Very true. I loved the part “through my pain(t) and also “but it takes courage and I’m striving”. I can hear your poem like a song lyric.
Barb,
I’m glad you were able to find so many perspectives to explore and I love how they are captured here in this poem. I especially love the play on pain/paint.
Barb,
I know you have been through so much, and as a survivor, your voice comes from courage, and striving. We can’t have paint without “pain.” Your title also backs up your ability to gain your voice through your poetry. It isn’t about the pain coming through, as much of a reflection of it having been processed. Glad I got to read this.
Erica–you sent me down a deep rabbit hole this morning. I had never paid any attention to the words accompanying the art that we view. (Some of it boring, but some–oh, so good.) Thank you for that insight, and thank you for your mentor poem. I especially loved the lines “as you drive away and/away and away…” What quiet sorrow you gave us.
As I searched (and searched and searched) for the just right art and description, I came upon one of my favorite artists, Andrew Wyeth. Cristina’s world was just too trite, so I looked on and found this incredibly depressing painting.
The Crazy Woman Sings with Andrew Wyeth
Poem: The Crazy Woman, Gwendolyn Brooks
Painting: November First. 1950, Andrew Wyeth
I shall not sing a May song.
A May song should be gay.
I’ll wait until November
And sing a song of gray.
late autumn,
inevitable decay
I’ll wait until November
That is the time for me.
tattered cornstalks,
harvested field
I’ll go out in the frosty dark
And sing most terribly.
Cold, damp,
late autumn
And all the little people
Will stare at me and say,
“That is the Crazy Woman
Who would not sing in May.
GJSands
10/21/2023
Total disclosure–I changed nothing in Brooks’ poem–just added the found words from the painting)
Gayle, first I absolutely love the way you’ve blended voices in your poem and the imagery is brilliant. Love the way you create such a flow with the language, and your ending is a happy surprise. Thanks for sharing the gorgeous image!
Gayle — I love the painting and the words. The whole piece you’ve put together here is packed with a soulfulness. I, of course, LOVE LOVE LOVE Andrew Wyeth! 🙂 Not a smile kind of art, but absolutely a moving set of images. Susie
What a creative blending of two artistic forms into your own poetic creation. Love this melding of the two.
Gayle I love how you blended a poem and the words from a painting together to make something new! I’ll admit that not all artist statements are exciting to read, but there are some that can shed so much insight into the art and the artist’s world! And then there are writers like you — that can take inspiration from two different mediums and blend them together! I love how you approached my prompt and thank you for sharing this poem today.
Erica,
Thanks for presenting us with such a great prompt and an even greater mentor poem today. What you found and created is magnificent.
While I loved your prompt, I broke the “rules.” We just returned from Asheville, NC. We kept hearing the word “hipster” being used to describe the cool city. And, coincidentally, I am reading Wellness by Nathan Hill and I ran across a passage today about gentrification and hipsters. So, I decided to cull some phrases out of that passage.
Found poetry from Wellness by Nathan Hill
Risk
I turned into
a boring, vanilla toxic
untalented gentrifier.
really just another cog
in the engine of
global progress.
soulless corporate machine
in the small beige cubicle.
tattooed hipsters
are
way
worse.
mining the earth
for the next trendy thing
never create their own art
don’t create a thing.
creation is unpredictable
trendiness is a bad investment
answering to shareholders.
they transfer the risk to us
outsource risk.
one of a hundred becomes
legitimately trendy
the rest become adjuncts.
not gentrifiers
blaming a boat for causing the tide.
now deliberately doing
what I was doing accidentally
back then.
~Susan Ahlbrand
21 October 2023
Susan, wow, the language in your poem is riveting and captures the artist and time period well. I like the way your poem creates clear actions and attitudes such as “trendy thing” “outsource risk” and “legitimately trendy”. The line “the rest become adjuncts” has such a sting to it, but my favorite is your end and “blaming a boat for causing the tide”. Brilliant!
Susan — Ooo, baby, this is packed with some fine stuff. This captures the whole concept of gentrifying…the soullessness of it actually…”blaming a boat for causing the tide.” Dandy line! And the title “Risk” is packed as well. Powerful poem with some strong voice! Susie
Well, I don’t know what that quote is going to look like once I post this, but boy did those lines catch my attention. In fact, the language here is incredibly evocative – “the rest become adjuncts” and “Blaming a boat for causing the tide”. I grew up in SC, not too far from Asheville & this poem captures quite a lot of my feelings the last time I was there.
Hi Erica! Thanks for hosting us today and for this invitation to try art/placards/found poetry together! I love this prompt and your poem. The photos pulled me right in! Your poem helped me imagine my loved ones who’ve passed on and I believe they see me now as a figure still in their distant view. Beautiful! 💜
I found this painting “The Ascent of Ethiopia” on Google Arts and Culture. I also found that they now have a Poem Postcard activity. I didn’t get to try it but I am definitely intrigued.
I read a short blog about the painting to inspire my Found Poem offering for today. The painting is attached.
Weaving Stories of Liberation
the Black experience
art, drama, and music
flourish
the Black experience
rhythms, jazz, beats
ascend
the Black experience
Harlem, Ethiopia, Culture
liberate
©Stacey L. Joy, 10/21/23
Stacey,
Yes! Art makes way for “Ethiopia rising” through “the Black experience.” As educators we have the honor and responsibility to help Black art “flourish.” I’m also reading your poem as a response to Scholastic’s missteps this past week. Rise up!
Thank you. Yes, Scholastic must do right and stop their nonsense or they’ll have a huge loss of revenue and support.
Stacey, your poem needs to become a poster for your classroom. It captures so many important facets, and your final word “liberate” wonderfully celebrates the Harlem Renaissance and Black Experience. Bravo!
I love this, Stacey! It is so well crafted with the repetition of “the Black experience” as the start of each stanza followed by the concrete examples in each second line and then those wonderful (active and so important) verbs in the final lines: “flourish,” “ascend,” and “liberate.” Wonderful!
Hi, Stacey! Hugs! Your poem hits just the right tone for me today. I’ve been reading Colson Whitehead’s Crook Manifesto, and heaven knows there are a lot of voices screaming in the novel. Harlem. Indeed! I love the idea of feeling the music in liberation. You keep at it, my friend. Your voice is always a fine piece of art. Love, Susie
Hi Stacey,
I really enjoyed these three stanzas – the repetition and rhythm caught my attention right away. On a second read, I noticed that “liberate” has one more syllable than “flourish” and “ascend” & somehow it feels like this gives the whole poem a forward thrust at the end. I think this would make a great pairing with the original painting (or, perhaps, a poem postcard? I’m off to find out what, exactly, that is!)
This is what I did this morning. I just played around with Haiku and AI generated this. I would prefer writing my own poem but it’s still interesting.
https://g.co/arts/xgrTongApMFL2XCQ6
Let me put
it to you
this way:
not using
proper
(& current)
MLA
formatting
for your
works cited
entries
is kinda
like describing
the Grand
Canyon
as just
a
really
big
hole.
__________________________________________________
Erica, thank you for your mentor poem and your prompt! The juxtaposition between the “waving” of people (here one day and gone the next) and the more constant (hopefully, fingers crossed) “waving” of the ocean is wonderful, and I love the “peaks and valleys” of the look of your poem, which further mirrors an ocean wave. I’ve been reading/grading working bibliographies this morning so I took “inspiration” from them.
I love that I always expect a treat in how you respond to a prompt. How did you get here? I would love to know what you saw or what inspired you. So good!!
Lol. When I discuss MLA formatting with my students, I think of it in this way: parenthetical documentation tells me where “in the work” you could find the information (and I’m really just talking about page numbers for print sources or pdfs) and your works cited entries tell me where “in the world” you could find the source. So, when students just give me the title of a website or just the active link (blue and underlined, ugh) on their working bib or works cited page, I don’t have “enough stuff” to be able to locate/identify/find the source. It’s like trying to describe that famous work….you know the one….with the guy…holding his face….he’s screaming, I think….you know the one…. [Well, no, I’m not quite sure, yet, you could be describing Home Alone with Macaulay Culkin or Edvard Munch’s The Scream. I think I need a bit more info.] 🙂
😂😂😂Got it!
Scott, the explanation cleared it up completely! I am so very grateful. And truly, the Grand Canyon really IS just a really big hole…
Ahahaha! Indeed, Scott! I feel that! Even with this little shorty (so not like you! LOL!), you have me laughing. Love it. Susie
This poem made me chuckle. Might need to steal this description (and I love your explanation below).
There’s a butterfly
Stuck in my throat
Words cocooned
In grief and shame
Wrestled their wings
Free only to be stuck
Between tonsil and tongue
There’s a butterfly
Stuck in my throat
Antenna tuning
Yet my vocal cords
Strangle futures
Swallowing worded wings
Sarah! The first two lines are magical! I imagined so many ways to go with the visual and your opening lines. You took me in a totally different and unexpected direction. Powerful piece!
Sarah,
I love the point of view. I see sadness and pain in the artist’s self-portrait. Was Frieda Kalo one of her influences? Your poem echoes the universal silencing of women. So many have those winged words “stuck in my throat.”
Sarah, your poem is stunning! I love the trapped feelings and strident emotions throughout your poem, and I am awed by the way your words transform grief and shame in a tightly written, but beautiful way. “Strangle futures/Swallowing worded wings”…omg! Love your poem’s end and “wrestled their wings”. Such a striking poem full of sensory appeal. Truly awe-inspiring and powerful!
Sarah, I totally agree with the others here: this is such a powerful poem. The opening “catches” me with its startling and visceral image of “a butterfly / Stuck in my throat.” I was struck by that image (as I was scrolling down the page, I hadn’t yet seen the painting before reading your first stanza) and your inverted syntax at the end — “Swallowing worded wings” — makes me pause again, which is exactly what is happening in the poem with the “cocooned,” “stuck,” and “[s]trangle[d]” words and “futures.” So good!
Oooo, lordy, this is really a visceral image that WORKS beautifully. It makes me want to scratch my throat…the cocooning… egads…so perfect an image. Really a terrific poem…right down to the “swallowing worded wings”… so creative! So real! So ….itchy!
Hugs, Susie
“Swallowing worded wings”. If there was nothing else in this poem, these three words would be enough.
Erica,
Thank you so much for this prompt & inspiration. I spent quite a bit of time looking at artwork and enjoyed this so much that I wrote several short poems. This prompt is accessible for all grade levels, and I really look forward to exploring art with my students as inspiration for writing.
Inspiration
“Gray & Gold” – John Rogers Cox (1942)
Echoes of History
Storms brew
across amber waves
ominous clouds scuttle across bruised sky
gray smothers gold
intersection & separation
crossroads emerge
look closely for the signs
still anger & hate reverberate
Echoes of history
Here is a link to painting.
https://www.clevelandart.org/art/1943.60
Tammi,
I read this without an image. The amber waves are America in my reading. The bruised sky feels like America, gray smother. Crossroads. Gosh. This is not history. It is us. Such a powerful concentrated snapshot. I am grieving.
Sarah
Tammi, I loved the line “ominous clouds scuttle across bruised sky” and the feeling it invokes of bad things coming to an already worn down country.
Tammi, ohhhh, that image is powerful and evokes many thoughts.
I feel this deeply as we all must wonder when will we find peace here in this land of the “free” or anywhere in the world.
Tammi,
I love the title and the recognition of “crossroads” as “intersection & separation…emerge.” So many possibilities in the art you selected.
The painting is incredible! And your poem captures both the painting and our world today with eloquence.
Erica, great prompt. I’m a placard reader, too, and often photograph them. I see echos of “Not Waving, but Drowning” in your poem. Thanks for hosting.
Art His-tory
Let us pause to
Acknowledge—
History: His-Story
at best incomplete…
…idealized…
at worst fiction—
perched in paint
atop a horse:
andrew jackson’s
violent legacy
brushes past the
cost of removal
Let us pause to
Acknowledge—
museum tellings
honoring & writing a
history, but
art copying
altering, stripping
this incomplete
rendering of power—
nailing his storied
words to
his mouth pierces
myth &
fashions a
complete narrative:
the cost of removal.
—Glenda Funk
October 21, 2023
I’ma fan of Titus Kapur and saw his reimagine of Ralph Earl’s portrait of Andrew Jackson atop a horse at the Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville, Arkansas last year. I dove into Kapur’s statement, watched a video about the painting, and read commentary from the museum as inspiration for my poem. Kapur’s art is from 2017 and is titled “The Cost of Removal.
Glenda,
This was terrific. I’ve never seen this piece — so powerful! And your words were the perfect accompaniment to it.
Glenda,
I’ve visited Crystal Bridges as well and absolutely love that museum too! I love your choice of an ending line and the repetition of the phrase “let us pause to acknowledge” as if to emphasize to the reader that Andrew Jackson and the history around him is something glossed over and that it should not be.
Wow! Love your lines: nailing his storied/ words to/ his mouth pierces/ myth. What an image! So powerful!
Glenda,
Your second stanza — “History: His-Story/at best incomplete…/…idealized…
at worst fiction—/perched in paint/ atop a horse:” — is so powerful and captures how our history has been molded to reflect one patriarchal perspective.
I’ve been discussing perspective recently with my students a lot lately, and your poem really demonstrates the danger of relying on one story. Thank you for introducing me to this painting. I found the information regarding Kapur’s painting very interesting.
History: His-Story
at best incomplete…
…idealized…
at worst fiction—
perched in paint
atop a horse:
Glenda,
I am always stirred by your poetry.
Noticing no capital letters for proper nouns but Acknowledge is set off. A call to action with that powerful dash. Thatbart can strip and nail and pierce is every reason we must do art in paint and poetry. Well done.
Sarah
BOOM! Glenda, this is fire! I remember seeing this painting on a post a while back and wish I could recall what the person wrote about it. You nailed it.
Let us pause…
Brilliant!
Glenda, your poem captures the “cost of removal” so perfectly and such a timely reminder of how men, Columbus along with Jackson, etc. have caused so much harm to people and histories. I am particularly moved by your line “nailing his storied/words to/his mouth pierces/myth &”. Your insight as always is keen and incredibly sharp. Thanks for sharing your wisdom through your incredibly powerful poem.
Glenda — You are a war horse for getting the story straight, and I LOVE that. Damned Jackson was mythologized ENUF! Wonderful poem. The word “perched” just really fits too…that sense of posing like some premeditated lie. Ahhh. I love hearing your voice so strong and loud here. Hugs, Susie
The cost of removal…and that painting!!! a wow!
Glenda, I’m so glad I didn’t live in the AJ
Thank you for the inspiration and the pause to consider art, Erica. I love the subject and the structure of your poem. I can feel the leaving as I read. Just wonderful.
Harmony is Never Symmetry
Harmony is never
symmetry. It is a tangle
of emotions.
It is a tree in winter,
leaves off and fully
exposed to the elements.
Vulnerable, unashamed –
Twisting to the sky,
This way and that.
An orchestra of branches,
creaking in the white wind,
ice-covered beauty.
Perpetual swivel and swirl,
harmony in motion,
nature’s perfect design.
————
Piet Mondrian’s Tree
Found in this article.
Joanne, that link doesn’t work. I don’t think your poem needs an image. It’s lovely as is, and I felt as though I was getting an art lesson reading it. I’m drawn to the musicality of a swaying tree: harmony, orchestra, triangle, sway, motion. These words sing.
Sorry! And Thank you! This link should work, if anyone is interested!
‘Harmony Is Never Symmetry’: The Curator of Fondation Beyeler’s Deeply Researched Mondrian Show on What Made the Artist Tick
Joanne,
Beautiful poem. I love the way you captured nature’s beauty in all seasons.
I especially loved this stanza:
“An orchestra of branches,
creaking in the white wind,
ice-covered beauty.”
Although I love summer, an ice covered winter day is breathtaking.
I love this metaphor that harmony is a tree in winter, leaves off and full exposed. Yes. Thank you for this. How can we find harmony when we are shrouded or covering up.
Sarah
Joanne, your poem title pulled me in! Sometimes when a truth is stated so succinctly, we’re surprised! Then noting your choice of words … creaking is not usually a word to describe harmonious music. But but in the context of this poem, that word for sound seems just right. However, when you soften the auditory words at the end with swishing soft consonant blends of s and w, you switch to negative to positive emotional pull! Clever writing.
Harmony is never symmetry – what a thought provoking way to ponder art and relationship!
Erica, thank you for hosting today and for explaining your process. My college as a Gilot exhibit, so I wrote around her, not fully a found poem–a half.
don’t know me by
pablo or salk
know me by the myths
theseus, paloma
guitare, gallerias
know me by my
spontaneity
longevity, the sagas
drafted in my strokes
know me by the music
I exude in my colors
know me for my length
of life and time I put
into my craft
know me as Françoise
Stefani, your poem draws me to this artist I now want to know better. I love the repetition and the way you’ve privileged a woman artist in your poem.
Stefani, my students have just been introduced to the idea of anaphora so I love that I see it in your poem today. I love the lines, “know my by my spontaneity, longevity, the sagas drafted in my strokes.” This form feels both spontaneous (as it’s found) and enduring (as it creates new art from art past). I’m most especially drawn to the drafted sagas in brush strokes – what a beautiful image.
Stefani,
I love the idea of writing around a piece of artwork as well — a half found poem is absolutely something I would want to try myself some time! I’m glad you adapted the prompt for that.
Also I love the way your dropped the art work and art terms into your poem — it helped enhance the spontaneity of the poem you were capturing. I love too the contrast of the “don’t know me” at the beginning with the ending line being about “know me.” I feel like I’m walking through a gallery just by reading your poem.
Stefani,
I love the way you have infused the personality of the artist throughout your poem with your words “spontaneity, longevity, music I exude.” I definitely wanted to learn more about her.
Erica, as I viewed the Dikeman’s photos, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the aging of its subjects as time passed, much like the waves you explore in your words (even in the drive away and away and away which comes in waves – I can hear them crashing along the sand). I appreciate the various expressions of goodbye and its placement throughout your poem too – masterful. I adore this process, one that will be successful for young writers, as it layers in interpretation and builds upon knowledge. Thank you for introducing us to label text as a found option! My piece is based text written about Georgia O’Keefe’s Radiator Building, Night, New York. I had no idea she painted structures (there’s that building of knowledge).
1927 Metropolis
Transported to a
bygone age
mapped by pioneering artists,
lights dot the scene,
loom over the pinnacle
atop erratic rows,
illuminate the night sky,
line the road to
a future that never was
a future that should have been.
Tendrils of steam
fluttering, floral,
their delicate fronds curling up and away,
(the barely visible glow of red neon
against a black backdrop)
escape into the night
like a wild child of the soil
dreaming of the plains
only to blow away with the wind.
Jennifer, I am glad you chose a less famous O’Keefe image. I am loving the line, “tendrils of steam”–wow!
Thank you, Jennifer.
I love how your own poem’s structure resembles the artwork that inspired it. In particular though I am especially in love with the alliteration found in the lines “fluttering floral, their delicate fronds curling up and away” — the natural imagery in stark contrast with the urban city! I love contrasts like that and you capture that in this poem.
Jennifer,
Im a huge Georgia O’Keefe fan and visited her museum in Santa Fe last summer. Like you, I associate her w/ the desert but know she lived in NY, too. I’m especially drawn to these lines:
“a future that never was
a future that should have been.”
For me they express the eternal struggle of not being a white man. Love that painting. What a gift we have in O’Keefe.
Jennifer
There are so many beautiful images in your poem. Especially love these lines: “Tendrils of steam/fluttering, floral,/their delicate fronds curling up and away,”
Jennifer — I particularly appreciate that your poem takes me back to 1927 and thinking about the world of the late ’20s…the pioneering that it took for a woman to be recognized at all in the art world…to be taken seriously. Such an effective moodiness about the art piece and your poem. You are so talented in bringing this to us today. Yes! Hugs, Susie
Jennifer, as I was looking at the painting and the lights off at the top of the building. It looks like a baby sitting and the word Wild Child
made me chuckle a little – an image of a
child probably not intended but one I can see.
love your choice and your poem.
Thank you Erica for this prompt! I’ve enjoyed taking a moment to virtual visit art collections.
I was intrigued by the description of this gallery: https://www.nga.gov/exhibitions/2023/etched-light-photogravures.html
I loved how it was scientists and artist working together to protect technique and advocate photography as art. This found poem takes lines from the overall description of the gallery and included artists bios.
photochemist
lace, leaves, and grasses
exposed to the sun
washes of salt and silver
streets, parks, and newly emerging skyscrapers
etching copperplate
printing in ink
innovative practitioners
treated as an art
Oops. Meant to write perfect technique.
Ooooh! I can see this! I can feel it from your words – lace, leaves – salt, silver – etching, ink. Beautiful. Thank you.
Brittany, this collaboration of art and science (and technology) is amazing and I would love to see what could be done today or how this would be interpreted with today’s capabilities.
Thank you for sharing a new artistic technique with me Brittany!
I love how the line about the skyscraper sticks out above the other lines — almost like an homage to how they stick out in a city. I think the beginning line especially is delicate and makes me wonder how much care goes into creating etched light photography — because that sounds like delicate work too.
Brittany,
This is so cool! I love the way you focused on the technique behind the art.
Hi Brittany,
I love the way these lines flow from the page to my heart… I believe they could stand alone and be their own poem.
Erica,
Thank you for the lovely prompt to kick off October’s Open Write!
I just loved the genius of your poem. The structure was everything, so clever. Loved the word choice and the connotations of “wave” which gave your poem an ebb and flow. Just loved it!
This year finds me about three and a half years away from the (potential, if I choose it) end of a career of high school teaching, and I have such mixed feelings. Should I stay or should I go? I’m still not sure, and after 26 years, I still love it so much. That’s where my brain was today. So, I opened up “A Spicing of Birds: Poems by Emily Dickinson” and found a picture of bluebirds juxtaposed with Dickinson’s poem “Before you thought of spring,” jotted down my favorite words in the poem, and ran with it.
Retiring
I find false spring in slowing steps –
the suddenness of weariness
And what was dear begins to vex.
Inspiration, autumn’s breath –
Exhale others’ grief, distress
And days til ending sweep and stretch:
Interval ‘tween life and death –
Or life and life – Hail friend, well met!
Greet life delayed; a tear for wealth
of life well-lived. See joy in depth
of thought, of feeling: fathomless.
Bid adieu to heartfelt heft
of sighs of children, baby’s breath,
carted home in haversack
to fill my dreams with nameless dread
Hail the self to be reclaimed –
A life well-lived, greet life delayed.
Link to Picture/Poem: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1hFXOm2ZkE8tY_-OAjemuN8P4ffszSyuuKY_zdEvcmH0/edit?usp=sharing
Wendy,
You have time to decide. You’ll know when to say when. I made my decision the year I retired, although I was headed in that direction. I taught 38 years. Do go while you still love teaching. So many wait too long and leave bitter. About the poem: I love the way you’ve turned to poetry to find meaning. The lines are all lovely and perfect in this moment.
Wendy, what a treasure of a poem – your use of the vernacular of days gone by adds to the aging feel and I can so relate because I feel it in my bones too! Oh, I am so right there with you.
The perspective changes and rims becomes
far more valuable than money –
it’s the one thing we can’t deposit and store! And the world ticks by more loudly!
I have 4 more years. I know I’m tired enough to be ready, but the charm of teaching littles about writing will never leave me. I will have to find a way to keep young ones in my life. They are my life-line. What is this form? Does it have a name? You will reclaim yourself when you retire, but from what others have experienced, it is a rough road to get there. It’s a good thing you are thinking about it now.
Hi, Margaret! I started out writing terza rima, but it morphed into one, continuous near-rhyme with iambic tetrameter. Yes, I’ve been advised by retired peers not to wait until the last minute to start reconciling myself with the life change; it’s a huge one. I’ve been dipping my toe into community service opportunities around me and finding new groups to bond with. 🙂
Erica, the beautiful collection of leaving and waving goodbye is so touching. Your poem with the metaphor of the ocean waves is beautiful. I especially liked the separate good and bye in those first two stanzas. It was your poem that made me think of using the subject of this Calder sculpture in Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Dancing
La Grande Vitesse–
great swiftness–
is on its toes
This suspect stabile
is a dancer
Even those
who don’t dance
Can walk around it
Walk up to it
Dance with it
Never the same
———————————————————————————–
Found poem from this article
Images of La Grande Vitesse
Denise, I’m glad you chose this sculpture and Calder for your topic. His work is so accessible. You’ve captured that perfectly in your last six lines. You reminded me how much I love taking kids to spaces where there is pblic art. They always find ways to interact with it, don’t they? It’s magical to me.
Denise, thank you for introducing us to this sculpture! I read your poem, envisioned the sculpture, looked it up, and was so surprised — did not expect it to be what it was! I was also unacquainted with the term “stabile,” so thanks for the education. Loved the way you thought about this piece of art and juxtaposed the movement of it with its potential viewers who can live vicariously through it: loved this!
Denise, I lived in Grand Rapids for awhile during college and my first two jobs. Your choice of the Calder is a perfect pairing with the waves in Erica’s poem. I love your view of the Calder as a dancer and especially for those who “don’t dance.” The idea of walking up to it and dancing with it draws to mind visitors who walk around it, move with it, against it, within its reach – so beautiful!
I love this image of the viewer dancing with the sculpture. The interaction of artwork and humankind entangled, entwined. Perfect!
Denise, I am so glad you chose La Grande Vitesse to write about. It is lovely and Calder’s work is distinct elsewhere. We are also lucky in Grand Rapids to have a beautiful sculpture garden with oversized art that is just stunning.
Denise,
Thank you so much. One of my favorite things to play with in a poem is intentional spacing, pauses, and sounds to mimic what I am writing about and so I am glad that you noticed those things in my poem.
And also thank you for including links to both the artwork and the article — I read your poem first before looking at the artwork and it was fun to imagine what the structure was before I saw it! I love how you captured the fluidity of the structure in your own lines — though I think my favorite part of your poem was ending with the lines “never the same” because isn’t that what artwork is supposed to do? Leave us forever changed from the viewing of it?
Denise,
Your poem dances w/ La Grande Vitesse. More art for my bucket list. You have me thinking of public art now.
Denise,
I am reading the poems today without looking at any images. Enjoying the painting my mind can do and trying to practice cognitive patience. I am enjoying your invitation to walk around it, walk up to it, dance with it. Considering that any approach will be transformative is very welcoming and comforting.
Sarah
Denise, I am impressed with how well you capture a variety of responses in your poem. To those “who don’t dance” and “Dance with it”. Perfect end!
Denise, I need to add this art stop to my list of travel adventures. I would love to see it in person. Your poem shows the interactive nature of dancing with it and inspires me to want to see this face to face. Thank you for sharing this sculpture!
Museum Mike
By Mo Daley 10/21/23
Chicago is a museum city.
We walked, some of us hand-in-hand
through countless corridors
of Seurats, mummies, a U-Boat,
peeked at planets from the lakefront,
and even met a dinosaur named Sue.
Mike, an early and avid reader,
spent his childhood taking it all in.
Initially his younger brothers urged him forward,
but he was as immovable as each placard he read.
They ran ahead to push buttons
or find a hidden snake in the exhibit,
but not Mike.
He perused each and every panel
not caring if he held up the group.
And I love him so much for that.
Mo,
“They ran ahead to push buttons / or find a hidden snake…” That’s how so many of us visit museums! Your last line is just precious! Isn’t that a sweet memory of Mike? Is he still Museum Mike? I’m so glad that this prompt brought this poem out today!
Mo, I loved this narrative and the picture that you build for us, with Mike’s implacable attention juxtaposed with that of his brothers. As a a museum placard reader who drives my kids/friends nuts when I lag behind…I get him.
Art has the power to grab you and make you pause – change your world – and change you.
You have capture this here so well.
Mo, this is beautiful! I can see the energy of the siblings, with their youth, running ahead and trying to draw him along, while he just does his own thing, absorbed in the pull of the words. And there’s the push (of buttons, of urgency, of going forward), so much like youth, that contrasts with the pull of the perusal, of the words on the placards. I love him for his immersion and his exploration too.
Mo,
I love this narrative poem capturing the kind of person I was any time I visited a museum. Museum Mike is also my favorite person! I definitely used to take for granted the placards and panels, but once I started reading them I started appreciating them more. Especially as a writer myself, I am constantly reading these posts because SOMEONE (usually uncredited) wrote something about this artwork and it’s fascinating to see what they thought was important to share.
Thank you for writing about Mike today — for all of us who take our time through exhibits to read the entire thing.
Mo,
How right you are: “Chicago is a museum city.” Bravo to Mike. He knows how to experience art!
Mo — What a loving and rich tribute to Mike and his tug to understand what the artist had to say. This is beautiful. YES to all the little Mikes out there and to you for painting such a vivid image of that childhood. Hugs, Susie
Mo— what a lovely picture of your Mike! I would love him, too! Your last line…
Mo, my goodness! Your poem
speaks to me because I have a Mike by another name. One who will take an hour to get through fifty feet of an exhibit. Reads everything,
takes his time,
gets lost in the learning.
I like Mike!! A man who will take his time
will do all the waiting and be patient for others too!
Erica, what a cool prompt idea, and a gorgeous poem!
I’ve always been fascinated by Pablo Picasso’s Guernica–so different than much of his other work. This poem was pulled from Lynn Robinson’s writing about the painting.
Crimes Against Humanity
Overwhelming size–
it wraps around you,
challenging:
“Is war heroic?”
April 27, 1937–
a city of no
strategic
military
value
bombed, an “aerial saturation”
cold-blooded,
designed to
intimidate
and
terrorize
3 hours
100,000 pounds of explosives
1600 killed
Nazi officer: “Did you
do that?”
Picasso: “No,
you did.”
Julie, Guernica really is such a facinating painting. I love the facts you’ve woven into your poem, especially the ending quote. This is wonderful.
Julie,
“Crimes Against Humanity” is such a powerful beginning. I learned a lot from your poem and Picasso’s painting as I read and learned this morning. Sadly, it is timely for today, as well.
Julie, really loved this. The fist stanza hooked me so effectively with its dangling question in its last line.
How the middle stanza resonated with what we’re witnessing right now —
Love your idea to end with dialogue for the last stanza.
Beautiful!
This is a painting that I’ve viewed in person many times. I just would stand quietly in witness of great atrocity. I believed that war was in the past or at least far away. It is not. Powerful dialogue to end a powerful poem.
Julie, this prompt causes me to think in a different way about each piece of artwork and I love it for that. I wonder where the words come from – what part did the Nazi officer play in the painting, for example – it makes me want to delve into the history of the artwork even more. The hardness in your word choices (cold-blooded, terrorize, pounds) mimics the devastation of the painting. I especially am drawn to the call and response between the Nazi and Picasso and its placement at the end.
Julie,
Of all the art I’ve seen, visiting Madrid and seeing Guernica is top of the list. It was a favorite even before I saw it. I’ve taught the painting and written poetry about it, too. Did you know there’s a picture book about the painting? At Crystal Bridges there is a response to Guernica that reimagines it as a Black Lives Matter work of art. It’s amazing, too. Your poem honors both the painting and those Franco killed in that barbaric war. I wish we were not once again witnessing senseless slaughter.
Julie,
Thank you! I love when different forms of artistic expression can come together in new ways, which I think is what makes this prompt so engaging.
As for your own poem, I agree with what Mo said. I love how you wove in facts as part of the poem and ended on the quote. I also like how the title and the first line pair so well together because it IS something so overwhelming and horrific to try to capture in a poem or piece of art.
Erica, The photography you referenced is a perfect match to the progression of this poem from good to goodbye. It takes me back to the days of leaving home. Mom and Dad would always walk me out to the car and wave until I was out of sight.
I recently visited the Albright-Knox Art Gallery in Buffalo, NY. I was introduced to the work of Clyfford Still. His abstract art included a single center line that symbolized the human figure. I found some notes that I took on my phone.
Follow your own path
as human form disappears,
a life line remains.
Margaret Simon (haiku draft)
Margaret, I love your last line so much. I am always blown away when a haiku can accomplish so much in so few syllables. Yours has really given me something to think about this morning. What a wonderful inspiration you had from Still’s work!
Margaret, I like the haiku that jumps off the page. “a life line remains” offers so many possibilities.
Margaret,
What an insightful and inspired rumination. Such a compact little haiku, but it’s so packed with various meanings! Super impressive piece.
P.S. Buffalo is my hometown, and I love AKG! For some weird reason, “The Marvelous Sauce” has always been my fave painting there. 🙂
Wendy, we were there for such a short time. Stayed in the fabulous InnBuffalo near Elmwood. I could’ve stayed longer. The museum was awe inspiring!
Beautiful, streamlined, the essence remaining. A truly powerful poem.
Margaret, I love that the writing today is prompting both a reflection of our poets’ words and the artists’ works. I can see the human image within Still’s work and your words about following our own paths until death and using the life line (Still’s single line) as a memory that honors the person gone is beautiful.
Margaret,
I love that piece: it’s simplicity; your accompanying words fit it well.
Margaret, the art one and the life line parallel
in so many ways, from the symmetry line of the human figure to the footprint in time of where we are. Lovely! And I love a haiku!
Erica, how fantastic that you found poetry in an art museum using the artist statements! Your poem certainly captures the essence of departure by someone, leaving us to feel the aloneness that comes, almost missing them before they get fully out of sight. Thank you for inviting us to go on an art exhibit tour today. I remembered the painting that my parents gave me for Christmas in 1984, after I fell in love with the landscapes of the English countryside painted by John Constable following a visit to the National Gallery in London. A favorite: The White Horse, kept at the Frick Collection in New York. Here is the link: https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.1146.html
The White Horse
six-foot wide space
a new technique
spanning canvas
no longer overshadowed
The White Horse
crosses
the River Stour
to the other side
on a barge
full-size sketch
with broad brushstrokes
thus crossing a new
career threshold
The broad brushstrokes grab me and take me to this vulnerable place of “threshold”.
Kim, I’m always so impressed at your cleverness so early in the morning! I really like your wordplay in this poem. The phrases, “no longer overshadowed,” and “broad brushstrokes” pulled me in this morning. Well done!
Kim, I love that your parents got you this painting, and that you wrote about it today. That white horse is so beautiful and prominent in the painting, and your found words bring it to life.
Kim, I love the parallel that you drew in here between the painting and the artist’s life/work — clever and inspired.
What a beautiful painting! Thanks for introducing us to it and for sharing this beautiful poem this morning.
You portray the immensity and power of the image so it take up the whole canvas of the poem. Wow!
Kim, I loved reading your words and imagining what I thought the painting would be and then opening the link to discover what inspired you (a surprise to find that Constable’s painting reminded me of Margaret Atwood and William Carlos William simultaneously). There’s something about the use of “broad brushstrokes” that reminds me of the movement of a horse.
Kim,
Your poem honoring the horse belongs beside the painting. It seems several of us are drawn to horse art today. I’m thinking about what that means.
Kim, I love how your poem shows the impact of the image and the artist’s style. Loved your final stanza with the “broad brush strokes and “career threshold”. Thanks for sharing your own personal experience and enjoyment of The White Horse.
Érica – I felt the movement in your poem, that pull when the act of leaving or the heartache of departure strains against your heart. Really beautiful poem and powerful enough to bring a very real sadness. Thank you for an i spiting start to my day. Susie