Ekphrastic
The Hunt in the Forest
In love with the passion of it in another perspective —The Hunt in the Forest moves her in a weird way. Stencil like flushing of the strength in weakness peely wallpaper adorn the wall, youth picks at its corners —curious a child who knows only comfort, to young to know what's behind each tree so I tell her love . She picks away more to see a blank wall stare back then enters with nary a peep or chirp of birds, no dogs, horses or men a foot in tights, no patterned trees. It starts with emptiness, I say. Fragile as the hummingbird cupped tightly in her desquamating hands peeling back the layers.
By Gerry Thibeaultabout a month ago in Poets
Minimum Output
The blood d r i p s F I l l s their coffers. Another of society's horrors. Treacherous their trajectory o b l i q u e They lock us in {positions of no grandeur} boxes to line their pockets. Oppose and face Consequences Less than. Greater than. Minimum output. Or just do whatever Everyone else does.
By Paul Stewartabout a month ago in Poets
A Bird Flies Up
A bird flies up, And becomes the sky. Feathers outstretched, Feeling the wind. A bird flies up, Bringing the trees with her, The memory of branches Sway within her. A bird alights on a branch, And becomes a nest. Eggs coddled, All down and soft grasses.
By Natalie Wilkinsonabout a month ago in Poets
The Daughter Of Badb
Introduction This is my twenty-fifth piece inspired by Justine G. Cappelli's beautiful and inspirational artwork. I love that Justine always gives the full story behind the painting, which gives me more than just the painting to work from.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred about a month ago in Poets
