Best Ekphrasis Poems

Stir my moonlight coffee
with your freshly dipped brush
in bright  yellow ochre ~
I will not complain.

Sprinkle pigments from 
from your pallets 
on my unflavoured coffee~
I will not complain.

Even when
your indigo eyes
spill Prussian blue 
to veil my night sky~
I will not complain.

Come sit with me
share this...

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Like no one before, nor since
 you painted that starry night in oils
  superimposing your life story.

I feel I know this idyllic village
 blanketed by tranquil rolling hills
  embraced by calming olive trees
   their very branches a symbol of peace
 ...

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Painting by Edvard Munch, 1895: "Moon Light"

your soft hand trembles in mine
no words are spoken
we observe our ascending full moon 
as we have every month for forty years
empyrean empress rises to her throne
queen regent of the night sky reigning
over brooding blue bay and melancholic mountains

as...

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Frozen flames pressed between each sheet
I flip every page while taking notes
Censoring every event in my past 
I fall deep when staring at the painting on the wall	
Every blink feels the same when in love  
However, on this one night, I stumbled 
On a...

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from beyond his
vibrant palette
that bore all his 
lifelong scars

is what I see
beneath his sky
and myriad
of stars

a scene of shades
and silhouettes
formed by the
yellow light

that hints at
The Last Supper
at that café 
in the night?...

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You were sly with your wanton  stare 
How you seduced me with only a look
Neither classic nor found in any  book
Unique to you it was somewhat unfair
While I was naked just standing there

The strokes so quick we barely...met
I do not know how the pallet...

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oh ...

Gustav, how you pique the senses
          captured passion's plural tenses

lovers twined in percale folds
          caught supine with spattered golds

porcelain dolls in fetal slumbers
   ...

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nothing spoils this surface view ~ see me
crave attention, gift empty touch  
tonal mask veils flaws and vices  
face alter ego and kneel

to feed the shallow shadow that circles 
~ around gossamer tears of the grieving moon,  
as silenced streaks of tongue-twisted...

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The searing sun has long been a revolving revelation of angst,
repelling songs of the skies, sung by the strings of the wings.
Pallid, poised only by muscle memory - a compositional backdrop,
past the point of revival, yet something inside me still ticks.

A trembling truth that never...

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In London fog, the river stills.
In silver sleep, it cools and fills
with cobalt mist as dawn unfolds;
above the Thames, the sun bleeds gold.
Into the haze, it pours and pools
like melting opal, liquid jewels
until the brume of morning fades
to prune the sky with unseen blades
that slice...

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She left one day, her Kiowa village
And stood proudly in the sun
Beneath the Tabletop Mountains 
And walked among the golden sea
Of waving grass, fearless and alone
Waiting, with keen ears and sacred breath
For the setting sun to call her name
So that her spirit could cross the...

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Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers

Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers


At dawn's first blush, 
milkweed pods, 
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of, 
silk sending secrets... 
on the wind's soft cry.

Yesterday they wore a crown of pink...

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The sun’s sparkling streaks,
of sangria grace, 
descend upon 
the malachite verdant valley;
world of pristine mountains,
and evergreen tales of 
rainbow hued meadows. 
Where medieval castles 
are guarded with a fragrant
fortress of blushing flowers,
enveloped in topaz gold beams.

She walks along the
fields of redolent reveries, 
where hope sprouts
like...

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O moon,
   the blood-rose pearl
            of my aching soul,
the ghostly seer of hourglass woes ~
heed these wistful words ~
forgive the dreadful quivers
between cacophonous quiescence, 
tremors within lungs of lament,
   ...

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must refuse relegation, obey
only the roar of our own angels, then reshape 

breastplates to shield the motherland
from any warlord who dares 

to pimp our flag.
Battlefields have always been a woman’s place,

We were born to bleed, to fight-
off advances, to heal from the inside-out.

We, nasty, nasty...

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