#ekphrastic poem
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Beautiful Death
—after Botanica No. 23 by Gail Potocki
Bursting.
I am bursting at the seams. From within me, a rustle of leaves.
My skin severs, there becomes two of me. It stings, this gruesome separation of being.
Cold air floods my open wound, and I begin to bleed.
Blooming.
A buddling, from every last pump of my heart; each beat, a sproutling in the cavity.
Desecration pollinates my bloodstream. Death parrots the stench of beauty.
Begging.
There are roots in me and they are plenty.
I cannot contain them all, who must I beg for mercy?
Even in death, they will beautifully defile me.
— helene wate, aka olivia garrett
#helenewate#my words#helene’s poetry#ekphrastic poem#ekphrastic poetry#poetry#horror poetry#horror poem
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Why so much life? I don’t know what to do with less I have given up all I have.
—Ilya Kaminsky, A Walking Man
From a new poem in partnership with the National Gallery of Art: A Walking Man by Ilya Kaminsky
“Giacometti is not working for his contemporaries, nor for the future generations: he is creating statues to delight the dead.” –Jean Genet
#Giacometti#alberto giacometti#poetry#ekphrastic#poem#ilya kaminsky#A Walking Man#Art#Poetry#Poem#ekphrasis#ekphrastic poem#existentialism#DC#DC poem#Washington DC#DMV#quote#quotes#inspiration
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Continuous Cities 6 (A continuation of Italy Calvino’s Invisible Cities) by Ami J. Sanghvi
—Published in Prometheus Dreaming Magazine’s 2019 Prometheus Unbound anthology; semifinalist 🥀🌹
#amaranth#amaranthine#prometheus#invisible cities#magical realism#italo calvino#ekphrastic poem#ekphrastic poetry#ekphrasis#metaphysical#survivor#prose#prose writing#experimental writing#writing experiment#art experiment#indie art#indie author#parafiction#poets on tumblr#experimental#experimental poetry#indie writer#poetry blog#queer poetry#queer bipoc#desi writers#support indie authors#indie press#indie publishing
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Two Rivers
One of red, one of white
Forever running side by side.
Opposing currents that take travelers far away.
Always going,
Going,
Going.
The rivers ebb and flow
Sometimes sluggish and slow.
Other times rushing and racing.
Always going,
Going,
Going.
They go anywhere and everywhere
On fantastic journeys to places rare.
Just ride the currents that are
Always going,
Going,
Going.
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Van Gogh Forgetting to Breathe While Furiously Painting Trees
An unfinished poem. Ready to grow, we’ll see where it goes:
[Van Gogh Forgetting to Breathe While Furiously Painting Trees]
Unable to express their fears
they burst at the seams.
So he paints them bright
without mouths
#poetry#poem#words#spilled ink#writing#work in progress#van gogh#vincent van gogh#painting#ekphrastic poem#art#breathing
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Poetry Class Final Compilation: [The title's long so it's below]
(May 2011; this was previously "Untitled, 2011")
Untitled, 2003 (of which there are actually several, it turns out)
Nurses grow poppies –
or tomatoes.
A nurse grows,
and there are lions and boars –
birds of prey –
they have each other’s bodies –
men with feline faces and breasts
under the bristles of hogs –
they are the aphids on our tiger lilies.
Pluck a Chinese dragon from
the branches of your staring poppy/tomato plant;
tell me that it does not swoon!
for it is beneath your iron grasp, and –
that smug smirk of yours;
why do you detest nature? –
give me the zodiac animal, and
I shall save him from the jeers
of your raucous bulbs. Go –
grow your flowers elsewhere, sweet nurse;
there is no call for talking fruit.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Le Pandemonium (1841) by John Martin
The Commandant
Who is he to presume
He may command the scene before him?
The helm and shield he wields
As magnificent and regal as they are
Are no apt tools against the fires
That rise to his feet
The bastion before him
Stretches far into the distance
Miles, perhaps, tens of them
It could not have been built
Or ruled
By human hands
Does he rule it nonetheless?
Is he human?
The flames surge tenfold
With a rise of his arm
No, he cannot be human
For his subjects are not men
But the very flames that burn below him
Yet do not touch his citadel
He is a god
A monster
Certainly he cannot be a man
Or, at least
He cannot be a man anymore
Who is he?
He does not simply presume
To command the flames
He does
They yield beneath his gaze
Like grasses before a wind
Or men before a blade
Perhaps he was a man, once
Perhaps he would’ve been burned by these flames
Those which he no longer fears
But whatever he is now, man or god
Or something entirely different
He is one of them
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ekphrastic poem: Jenna Le, 'Patti Smith, 1976'
Ekphrastic poem: Jenna Le, ‘Patti Smith, 1976’
This photo, black-and-white, where Mapplethorpe portrays his dark-mopped ex in profile, seated nude on wooden floorboards, knees drawn up to hide her breasts to hide her nipples, heated by the sideways radiator pipes on which she rests her palms, her bulging ribs a set of parallel oblique gray stripes rippling her bare white skin, unsmiling lips a short flat line– these were my first parameters,…
View On WordPress
6 notes
·
View notes
Photo
DAY AND NIGHT AT THE PARTHENON
Everything that was broken is still broken,
in a different shade. The city in the distance is
almost nonexistent now, except the little chain of lights—
more proof of life than when it was visible. Did the
Old World have a word for all these blues?
Wine-dark and wine-glistening and wine-smooth.
The wine-shine where your eyes have adjusted.
The wine-barrel of fading empty space. Everything
that was standing is still standing, in a different shade.
Day and night at the Parthenon. Yoshida Hiroshi, 1925.
12K notes
·
View notes
Text
Video Poem: A Reluctant Moses Took the Staff by Mark Tulin
Video Poem: A Reluctant Moses Took the Staff by Mark Tulin
Many thanks to ArtMusing for publishing this poem online. Featured artwork by “God Appears to Moses in Burning Bush.” Eugène Pluchart, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons. For more video poems, please visit Poetry by the Sea.
vimeo
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
The False Mirror
How perceptive was I ...The apple withered on the treeThrough frosted windows The soul you cannot seeA deceptive beauty The False Mirror by Rene Magritte – 1928 Photo by Abderrahmane Meftah on Unsplash © 2024 Samantha Williams. All Rights Reserved. OpenLinkNight #360 Thank you, Grace and the dVerse team!
View On WordPress
#deception#dVerse#ekphrastic poem#Inner Self#japanese poem#poem#poetry#René Magritte#Self-deception#Surrealism#Symbolism#tanka#The False Mirror#Visual Art Inspired
0 notes
Text
Two Poems by Donald Pasmore
View On WordPress
0 notes
Text
Questions
—art: Hilary Baldwin, “Sundown II”
Start with the foreground:
salt marsh or fresh?
inlet? Tidal creek?
Is the central, silvery surface
bay? Lake? River?
Estuary?
Beyond, is that the opposite shore?
A line of clouds rising
from the horizon
bearing rain?
Neither day nor night,
twilight lives
with uncertainty.
Sometimes that is all
any of us can do.
https://hilarybaldwinartist.com/
bryanmemorialgallery.org
“Land and Light and Water and Air” is in the Main Gallery at the Bryan Memorial Gallery until December 2023.
0 notes
Text
What is grandeur? Who is keeping score?
I believe in the circle, in light that surprises me, when I can
believe nothing. The palm reaching out is a gesture,
a boundary, a circle one could slip through, or something
you could hold and in turn it could hold you back.
—US Poet Laureate Ada Limón, In the End, Everything Gives
From a new poem in partnership with the National Gallery of Art: Ada Limón, In the End, Everything Gives
What is above us? The bleary algorithm of patterns, leaves, towering history of law and lore?
#poem#poetry#art#national gallery#national gallery of art#partnership#ada limón#US Poet laureate#poetry laureate#ekphrasis#ekphrastic#ekphrastic poem#quote#quotes#excerpts
0 notes
Text
Will We Choose Wisely? (a Senryu)
On Monday a Geelong Writers poetry group went to Rachinger Gallery in East Geelong for an Ekphrastic Poetry Workshop. Here I am presenting the painting, “Owl” by, Gale Jarmyn, and my associated Ekphrastic poem “Will We Choose Wisely” Will We Choose Wisely? (a Senryu)The owl shook his head Angry feathers flew sideways “You must choose wisely!” Ivor Steven (c) August 2023
View On WordPress
0 notes
Photo
El Greco's 'Christ on the Cross'
In El Greco's 'Christ on the Cross, ' earth rolls up into sky, which looks like sea- and it's all one blue-black mass behind the hanging man who said his reign was not of this shifty world.
El Greco's Jesus, stuck at the center foreground, isn't handsome, looks up exhausted, is almost out of here. A city's suggested beyond and beneath the nailed feet. It's no city you'd want to enter. Between the small mound of bones and limp urban spires, small men ride tiny white horses. There's
a flag, of course-a standard, which the painting's enormous blue note blows away like a dry leaf. Horses and men seem headed into a lifeless, lightless cave or copse. Without a doubt, the flag suggested power to occupied and occupiers both back then, as flags will do. El Greco's study's an indelicate bruise of black-and blue.
Hans Ostrom
allpoetry.com
Christ in Agony on the Cross, 1605, El Greco
Medium: oil,canvas
49 notes
·
View notes