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Category Archives: Art

Metamorphic

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I’ve found a new canvass

To draw on… and from

Sharing journeys

From bo(u)lder times

To monotonous erosion

To sun-kissed, self-loving

Soul-saving bliss

Rocking my freedom

Of direction

Perfection still wavering

Between the lines

And my mind

Colours conjoined

Words coined

Tedious, serious joy

 

painted rocks – Michelle Beauchamp

 

 

We are rocking the quadrille over at dVerse Poets Pub! I am your host and I hope you can join us. Write a poem of exactly 44 words including the word “rock”. The prompt begins today at 3 p.m. EST and is open all week.

 

 

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Three Sails

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Rainbowed, razzle dazzled

Poised upon lavender skies

Steady handed horizon

Sea swirls capped in stark white

Murmurs of mustard froth

Blends of blue

Southwestern hues

Neon dreams adrift

 

Image credit: pixabay.com

Written for Meeting the Bar. Bjorn is our host and he has asked us to take a closer look at impressionism to incorporate it into our poetry. We are painting with words. You can too.

dversepoets.com

Mélange

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It’s a short drive to the park. Winter has made a whimsical return as if to poke fun at Spring. Snow powdered trees appear to float in rainwater lagoons. I throw my daydreams into placid pools and wish for sunlight. In the foreground, flakes fall melting instantly on a glass stage. In the distance, they unite to soften the woods with a whitewash.  This portrait is life, mirrored and stilled by the indecisiveness of Mother Nature.  I join in reflections of branches blurred and blended, losing myself in the scene.

 

Seasonal squabble

Geese ponder their homeward flight

Nature simply paints

 

Björn leads our Haibun Monday this week.  He explains two techniques, “ekphrasis” and “haiga” as we combine art and poetry.

 

 

 

Neurons

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It is a privilege

To be part of this village

Paving the pathways

Breaking the patterns

Sowing the seeds

Eye contact, warmth of heart

Neurons ready for take off

Strange how for some

It takes science to prove

That love builds brains

 

Today for Poetics at dVerse Poets Pub, 3 p.m EST

We take a closer look at Ally Saunders, an artist from British Columbia, Canada. Through an interview, Ally shared with me more about herself and her life as an artist. She has kindly allowed us to use her work to stir our muse!

Join us!

Grounded

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I searched empty canyons

Pilfered through frozen hearts

Filtered facts from the cinders

Reflected from afar

 

I waited on ocean currents

Zephyrs for perfect sailing

All the while failing

To see my own stars

 

 

I am happy to be hosting our first Poetics for 2017 at our virtual pub, 

dversepoets.com

The New Year has a way of restoring our hopes and aspirations, nudging us to set new goals, follow new dreams and create “new beginnings”. With this in mind, I decided to visually inspire you with the help of 8 wonderful artists. Although the titles of their work may be very similar, each piece is an example of their very unique styles. The fun begins at 3 p.m. EST. Hope you can join in!

Image credit: “New Beginning”  by Lynn and Jim Lemyre.

You can find more of their work at lemyreart.com

 

 

 

How Dare I Even Try to Cover Shakespeare

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All the world’s a page
And all the men and women merely poets
They have their exits and their entrances,
And in time they write of every stage of this life
The penning of seven ages. At first, the infant,
Rapping and clapping  in mother’s arms
Then the whining schoolboy, with his backpack
And mourning face, snailing his way
To school. And then the lover,
Sighing between couplets, with a woeful ballad
Music to his mistress’ ear. Then a soldier,
Fighting life’s battles on paper and screens
Jealous in honor, spoken word slamming
Seeking the published prize
At the risk of denial. And then the justice,
Fattened and fueled with philosophy,
With eyes widened by profound thoughts
Full of wisdom of past and present
And so he coins his phrase. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and withered wordsmith,
With spectacles on nose and irony alongside;
His youthful imagery, well saved, a world too wide
For his shortened verse, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish times, whines
And whistles of his own elegy. Last stanza of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Blank verse, refrain and mere oblivion,
Sans rhythm, sans rhyme, sans breath, sans everything.

 

ALL THE WORLD’S A STAGE

By William Shakespeare

(from As You Like It, spoken by Jacques)

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

poetryfoundation.org

Photo taken in Stratford, Ontario, home of the Stratford Festival and Shakespearean plays.

 

A wonderful challenge by Bryan Ens for dVerse Poetics, where he asked us to “cover” a poem by a poet whom you admire. I missed the prompt so I’m linking this up to “Open Link Night”.

Feel free to join in with one poem of your choice!

Disposition

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Used with Permission: Emily Blincoe

 

 

You

cannot fix me.

My voids are custom

 made, specially designed

for comfort. Don’t arrange my

faults like feathers in a row,

plucked and sucked dry so

you can take credit

for my flight.

It isn’t

r

i

g

h

t

.

 

Written for dVerse – “Poetics: Arrangements by Emily Blincoe”