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MONOKU EKPHRASIS 40 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 39 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 38 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 37 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 36 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 35 by Strand, Brian
Lost In The Moment - A Memory Returns by Parise, Rick
A Cosmic Canticle IV by Hobo, Word
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 34 by Strand, Brian
MONOKU EKPHRASIS 33 by Strand, Brian

View all new Ekphrasis Poems

The Best Ekphrasis Poems

Details | Ekphrasis Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Laminated Love

LAMINATED LOVE

Frozen flames pressed 
between each page; 
suddenly, I felt each passing note.
The painting on the wall began to breathe	
gently the same colors repeated life. 
I was so close; I felt every vibration 
and there underneath the gloom, 
the roof let in the luminance of the moon.	
A memory unfolded while I held your hand,	
repainting our years, a devoted love
at the heart of everything. Steam is drawn 
from our hands. The canvas, 
the beautiful canvas, tied by solid green-gold.
Flames-brushed each wall as ageing you and I.	
In perfect harmony. TOGETHER 

1-06-2016


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016


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Your Smile Sends Me


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 had felt
But I feared my whiskers would  melt
As I kissed the canvas, us two a duet
A miracle occurred as the paints...set

I the paint brush marveled at your smile
You - The Mona Lisa the epitome of style


01~13~2015
Sponsor: Rick Parise
Inspired By The Mona Lisa
Painted By Leonardo da Vinci





Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015


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Plato and Socrates

Dramatic prose for the pompous asses
I throw my Platos at you
If you come any closer
I will Socrates you right in the nose
Demands, demands!!!! The clowns now have demands?
I say, rise up oh poets of the infinite dot universe
Proclaim the revolution a new
Justify our fight with words wrapped in doo doo
When I see a condescending donkey trip on his verbatim
I laughs cause I know he will fall into Satan's den
I am at eleven, usually a sober man
I carry my saber high and shout "Ekphrasis I don’t give a bloody damn"
Infinite ............................ Universe


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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Waterloo Bridge

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 the flaming clouds in two
to frame a glimpse of Waterloo.


*Inspired by Monet's painting, "Waterloo Bridge: Sun in a Fog"


Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013


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Abbi of Bacabi

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 great divide
 
No more would she walk
Across my night or my day...
Except on the wind that touches my face
Or the laughter from a child
Or perhaps in the song a meadow lark sings
And surely in the pleasure of my dreams
And in slumber I can rest, knowing full well
That her spirit has entered the land of green pastures.





Inspired by t.c.cannon and his wonderful artwork


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009


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WE, NASTY WOMEN

                                   
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 women
who dare castrate filibusters, know grit, 

audacity, the combat for higher grounds.
History is lit by an army of fiery 

heroines, burnt at stakes by low-life 
aristocrats, suckling-pig-kings.

We, Nasty women rise from ashes
to become better-armed daughters,  

knightmares, hallowed witches on frontlines, 
glorious, undefeated legends. 
 


After Jeanne d'Arc et Saint-Michel by Eugene Thirion, painting seen above 
 


Copyright © Cyndi MacMillan | Year Posted 2016


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A Depiction Of One Artist And His Starry Night



Vincent Van Gogh~Starry Night __________________________ a precarious world of indecision a dark pallet of light this brilliant depiction , it does scream , it cries out blues and yellows swirl in a maze of defeat a crescent moon suspended in a blissful evening , hangs lone in agony I rest within this small town of hope my eyes are saddened , my mind relentless in delight You are mine , my asylum , my starry night a dimension of light under this wrenching canopy of demise oh Vincent... __________________________


Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2010


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Springtime By Monet

One nail goes in my barren wall, to bring the spring alive I can almost hear the birds that greet, in morning's gold sunrise There is a garden, now, within my palm, and dew within my eyes The fog lifts high, and drifts away, and clouds within the sky While butterflies, and bumble bees, bring color, oh, so grand Addressing spring, caressing things, a rainbow in my hands. A glimpse, as if through windowpanes, I'll fall in love anew Enchanting me with roses, red, in bloom around my head They welcome me to a cottage old, to cheer me from my blues The world is painted softly, gold, in shades of pastel hues From nature is a vast array, of color, painted, thus I wish to hold the magic long, to frame, to keep, ... to last
__________________________________________________________________ Inspired by "Springtime By Monet" For Ekphrasis Contest Sponsored By Rick Parise 1/5/15


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015


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Table for One

Insistent starkness claims a leafless day
Where morning breaks with silent calm and dread
The slope of field is framed, behind the glass
reveals a fallen tree, with jagged edge
and grassy hills now laced with autumn rust 

Inside we find a plain and cheerless room
The table sparce, an empty chair
A plate, a knife, a saucer, without spoon
One empty cup, will wait for no one there...

Ambiance of what has been, 
 ...still lingers in the air,
as amber glows, with threats of snow,
are just a hint, instead

Lonely hours, and lonely days, and lonely shadows blend
The endless songs of yesterday, slip in from window's ledge 
A meager meal will spread upon a table set for one
Where breaking bread alone without a friend
is companioned by a solitary end 

The angled sun, casts shadows deep and long
A somber mood, reflects this quiet calm 
Upon the walls, where gardens grew, are faded memories 
where yellow blooms of yesterday, are just a step away

Where, once were two, who loved and knew their sun would rise again
There now is one who sits alone  ...at the table set for one 
Where hope has gone, when morning comes...
                                       to sing a lonely song



Based on the Painting by Andrew Wyeth ... "Groundhog Day"
http://www.andrew-wyeth-prints.com/gallery_andrew-wyeth-groundhog-day.html


Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009


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Wrapped in Colors

*Inspired by photo

As the sun sinks behind the hills
Color tints snow, where all is still
A bright sky ends a winter day
Into the night, leading the way
Highlights of beauty to recall
In solitude, a tree stands tall
Calmness reaches a restless soul
Regaining what loneliness stole
More to see than being alone
Wrapped in colors, nature has shown


Heidi Sands

2/20/18


Copyright © Heidi Sands | Year Posted 2018


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The Greatest Generation

Wise to emulate
 
“The Greatest Generation”
 
Depression Era
 
Hard times faced with dignity
 
Heroes rose from common men
 
 
 
*Entry for Brian’s Ekphrasis contest.  Based on the book “The Greatest Generation” 
by Tom Brokaw, a truly inspiring account of how people met the financial challenges 
of The Great Depression.




Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011


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The Camp of the Dead Children

Emily of three years
Leukemia eating her soul
Her bald head, made her smile wider
Please mummy do not cry
I will hug you even after I die

Tommy of five years
Bone cancer eating his limbs
Unable to walk, this beautiful mind
Absorbed any book like it was fine wine
He kissed his Daddy, and said all will be fine

Lena a sweet young lady of seven
Preparing her bed, for her voyage to heaven
Her little liver refused to function
Her spirit however could not be shrunken
She smiled beyond her years, I love you mummy daddy

Jacob of six, suffered from irony
Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease was to be his downfall
His hockey days were all but over
His favorite stick he gave to little brother
He said I love you, so don’t you too suffer

Raquel was all of four and one half years old
Menkes Disease was very soon to take hold
Her sad blue eyes expressed her fate
She knew the lord was waiting, staying up late
Her tears were for all those she was leaving behind

Jimmy was a young lad of only eight
With burns all over his body, death his only fate
His family hovered over his last moments here
As a plentitude of love gazed up to mum
His life fluttered away, he knew he was done

Emily, Tommy, Lena, Jacob, Raquel and Jimmy
All suffered and taken before their time
All of them far wiser than their childhood years
All of them sad for all their families tears
The heavens of the universe, seem so fickle and unkind


Why, why why, as my heart comprehends not at all this time

The camp of dead children, killed me as well

Yet they were survivors and filled with eternal love

Why why why, as I can only cry


Quantum entanglement
Inside the human conscientiousness
Schroeder’s cat, has been freed at last
Multi universe, exposing heads and tails


It’s the last ecstatic day of the Olympics
The spectators are in awe
Anticipation is hanging in the air
As the best, most fit, most disciplined
Of young men and woman are set to compete....
The finest of human specimens in both body and mind

The starter raises his pistol
The Big Bang
The race of life is on

The families of the triumphant winners jump for joy
Mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters
Clapping and cheering, years of dedication
Are seen on the smiles of these young ones

On to the podium does the team step
They stare out proud and filled with joy
Gold medals placed over their shoulders one by one
Emily, Tommy, Lena, Jacob, Raquel and Jimmy
They have won!

Somehow, deep within, they know, they have won


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015


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Introspection On Toast

There once was a picture that wormed itself into my reverie
On a gray, cloudy morning, whilst it was raining and cold.
In this one picture were four slices of toast and five beverages.
Three glasses held tea the color of honey, and two were raspberry tinted.
Somehow it was important to me that the toast was suspended
In the air above the table by two glasses, like bookends.
For a moment I wondered who had achieved this strange feat, and why;
But then my thoughts turned to how my life was like that toast,
Suspended in air by forces counteracting gravity,
And any moment a passerby might jar the table, destroying the illusion
Of serenity and stability. I've seen people's lives change as quickly.
For the most part, everything seems to go well for them,
Then there is a turning point, after which nothing seems to be right.
Anything can trigger it; the loss of a child or job,
A spouse, or the home in which they have always lived.
Moreover, there is no reasoning to whom it happens;
Just like a careless passerby might bump a table,
And four slices of toast fall to the table, or the ground.

(Poem is written in Prose form)


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015


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haiga - Enigmatic Moment

C          R           O
a           a           n
p           p           l
t            t           y
i
v           I           S
e           n           h
             s           e
S           i
h           d           C
e           e           a
                          n
I            T
s            h          S
             e           e
H                        e
e           M
 l           y
d           s
             t
             e
             r
             y




Inspired by Brian Strands' Imagine contest and Edward Hoppers' "Automat"



Copyright © Robin L. Gass | Year Posted 2009


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Ekphrasis 12 Line Max

New Year’s Eve

I need to feel the trade winds blow
To know they have my heart in tow,

Here in the twilight of this hour
I feel the grandeur of God’s power.

The Sun, a ball of golden fire
Rises with my heart’s desire

That this New Year will offer love
As Sol begins to rise above.

How wonderful, the winter sky—
With mist filled clouds that float on by.

Sweet birds of beauty on the wing,
Portends the gifts New Year will bring.

© Connie Marcum Wong

My Muse is the New Year
Contest: Ekphrasis 12 Line Max
Sponsored by Rick Parise


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014


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A Beautiful Woman

A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN 

Her face was a constellation of perfections 
She was ravishing; beautiful beyond condemnation. 
Her voice was like many water 
Yet, it's coo whenever she sputtered. 

Her gait was just so alluring 
No wonder men couldn't help but kept gazing. 
She trod on her pathway like a goddess -
This woman I saw was priceless. 

Even her dance step sent signals to heavenly bodies 
The immortals were mesmerized - she was more than a novice. 
The flexibility of her body was as a swift wind
It moved so fast, it could not be filmed. 

When she sang, it was like that of an angel 
Kingdoms let loosed: heaven, earth and hell 
In her eyes, you'd see paradise 
In her world, great men and women did arise 

There was ample concinnity in her kingdom 
Everything was cloudless, no entrenchment of freedom 
She also spoke with authority and with great audacity 
Owning to her greatness, she created a brawny fraternity 

Loosed men and women longed to have her by their side
'Sorry, I'm not your type' she did chide 
They tried to restrain, but they were so much in love 
Her being angry at them only waxed their hearts together in her glove 

Men of great status came to have her
They were with their luxuries - they came from afar 
The splendour of her beauty got them sprawling to the floor 
The radiance of her look made their visions blur

In her, greatness was defined 
There are so many traits of hers which can't be outlined 
She kept her statute; she was a woman of virtue
Her works were known, they reached their plateau 

Of a truth, this woman is a goddess 
And this makes me remember the game of chess
At the end, the king and queen are brought to rear
So also is this woman I saw. Her name is Nigeria.


Copyright © Jimmy Godwin | Year Posted 2014


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- NATURE'S PSALMS - 1

NATURE'S PSALMS

Is Beethoven's ensemble fairer than nature's psalms?
Amidst a crowning sun: ears and eyes are drugged,
drenched with tender notes, orchestrated by greens,
inhale deep, the aromatic blossoms from the vine

with their lilting swell, brushed shades of fine wine.
Listen, listen to the sudden leap, the vibrato of bird song
or the raucous winds rubbing against house-corners
and the blithering brook carrying tales of who?

As you walk attuned to the crunch of the brown foliage.
When the cobalt skies turn to ash - gray mode,
hear heaven's vault lament, drizzling sobs to loud weeps
when day's face in angst pout or blush beside the beloved.

Feel your feet push or pull deluged by the liquid fingers
of the sea; in whites, they murmur ripples. They tremble
and stir, savor the flavor, a brief interlude:

Nature's power: tones, sharps, curls, pants. It slants
aiming to reach a rest upon blues of sky at its zenith,
The darting patterns curves, verves are diapered
wanting to delight, to wonder, to shock, to soothe.
__________________________________________________________________
~~~Inspired by the painting: Blue and Green Music by Georgia O'Keeffe 1921

*** I am always glad to be taunted by learning drive with you Debbie Guzzi,
thank you so much...

__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
6:06 pm, January 10, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo | Year Posted 2016


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Black Sunday {Personification in Couplet form}

I was as high as the eyes could see
A giant dark cloud of pure misery

I seemed to roll as one with the wind
A giant black wall that had no end

I stripped the land and left it bare
Of the lives I destroyed, I didn’t care

Those who stayed I covered in dust
As their children died I broke their trust

From my hell many families did flee
Left to wander homeless in misery

I changed the word these words are true 
Black Sunday brought darkness on you


I didn't see any direct link but just goggle
pictures of the dust bowl and you will see
what i have written for Brian's Contest.
The Dust Bowl - Alexandre Hogue - 1937


Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009


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Sacrificial Lamb

Not all news of its existence brings joy – 
a heartbeat is denied the trumpets
instead, news is shared in long drawn 
out breaths with eyes that never dry. 

A vow was broken long before – 
Those nights, when they turn off the light 
a silence is broken amidst long sighs. 

A creature of habit learns in time certain 
vested interest will come to be expected; 
promises are forgotten in the dark. 

But this is unexpected news; now the light 
need no longer be turned off every night. 

The weeping stops when a decision is made; 
she finds that self-sacrifice does not extend 
beyond the sanctity of life. A creature 
of habit learns hypocrisy the hard way. 


After:  Twilight Confidences by Cecilia Beaux 1888


For Debbie Guzzi's Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 7
Kim Patrice Nunez
14 January 2016


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016


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You Gotta Have Heart

Tag words: advertising, bebop, bird, bottle, Charlie 
Parker, Coca-Cola, Cole Porter, Dizzy Gillespie,
door, flag, heart, jazz, light bulb, Louis Armstrong,
Miles Davis, palette, Pepsi Cola, pluralism – found
object, retablo painting, sculpture

Arbitrary or subconscious, Saunders picked six.
Man created on the sixth day from darkness;
we came into the light, of knowing, of naming.
Satan, sin held within, black of skin. Oh,
Africa chopped up bleeding, the third world’s
doors shown black, nailed shut. With the skin
of drums, the heel of hand, he pounds the nails
on the trail of the carpenter.

Kept in place, biblical wives of Lot turned to salt,
white-line the globe. White powder, white power,
sugars the unpalpable, addicting, coca leafs and 
caffeine, doping the public, the poor for dimes. 
Reinforcing the lure of the bottle; the cola bottle 
that fell unbroken to earth from the sky in The 
God’s Must Be Crazy. Some have always used their
addictions to create. Like a found objects, we too
fall calling to Mother Mary.



After: The Gift of Presence Raymond Saunders 1993
First Published by Ekphrastic Art:writing and art on art and writing

*Lot the nephew of Abraham, husband of Edith
who was turned to salt.



Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016


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Elaelana

Elaelana- A Nymph In the Forest
Inspired by Charles Amable Lenoir's painting, "A Nymph In the Forest"

Pronunciation: 
Elaelana; Eh-lee-LAY-nuh, 
Naphesai; Nah-feh-SIGH, 
Mylesia; My-lee-SEE-uh

Elaelana, forest goddess, kneels beside the water lilies
Picking dainty, gem-like flowers to adorn her crown of hair;
Borrowed gems from Naphesai, her lovely sister of the daisies,
Flow'rs that thrive in shady woodlands, by the streamlet floating there.
 
Dressed for nymphean starlit dances in a dress of flowing creamrose;
Flawless slender arms upraised to rearrange the sable strands
Trailing from her Grecian features, pearly white against the gleamrose
Of silent lips, a little pressed, like rosebuds' tightknit ruby bands.

Ready now, so tall and stately, shadowlike drifts thro' the forest,
Joined at length by Mylesia, and her sister, Naphesai:
Elaelana, Mylesia, Naphesai, the sweetest, fairest
Threesome ever seen or heard that sang the nymphish lullabies. 


Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2015


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Maudlin Mary

Modeled by the     skilled and clumsy hands
of artists and artisans into an ideal state of she-ness,
a penniless waif appears      on a stool

last week a stranger called her Mona Lisa. 

Statuesque upon the betrayer
warmed by the lemon-lolly light from
bays of north facing windows, blinded;
she can but blink.

Surrounded by a 
cog-notched cyclical wheel of nubile artists—
blooming buds of wildness, vertical sprigs
flail softly on the breezy bounty of 
illumination.

Brush and trowel, thick and thin,
the artists stoke her—semblance
canvased by millennium brush biters
maudlin Mary is returned to the pre-historic stew 
by the likes of Claude     
polished to a pearly perfection
by type A, Hieronymus’.

They were all strangers to her     posers, 
every bit as much as she.
Royal pretenders in a world 
where only the artless 

are paid. 

Moneylenders rise on their     discarded carapaces
beauty sucked dry by the doers and shakers
who spread like choking bittersweet    through
the lollypop-light from the bay windows facing north
consuming Mona.  

Julie ford Oliver - Famous Models 
Ekphrasis

First Appeared in Illumen Magazine Fall of 2014


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015


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the meaning of Easter

jesus died and jerusalem went black the wind howled and the sky thundered loudly people ran in fear as the earth moaned but the beloved stayed jesus was buried in the early evening those who believed in him carried his limp body and the mary's and others followed weeping they washed and anointed him with myrrh and aloe wrapping him gently in a linen cloth with no words spoken in sadness they rolled a huge stone over the entrance leaving him in silence within his tomb it was in the hush of dawn on the third day the mary's returned they found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty the soldiers who had been guarding the tomb had fled in fear an angel in brilliant light appeared telling them that christ had risen from the dead frightened and in shock they ran to tell the apostles after his rising, jesus appeared to many he could eat, walk and talk to those he visited showing them the holes in his hands, side and feet and allowing them to touch him for forty days he remained and on the fortieth day he rose he was carried up into heaven and we the followers celebrate his death at Easter and his rising on Easter sunday . . . defeating death _________________________ April 1, 2014 Ekphrasis/the meaning of Easter Copyright Protected, ID 658844 Pascal Premier Contest Brian Strand


Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015


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The Guardian at the Gate

Spawn of the arcane, glutted, she sprawls upon the sands 
of mythos. As victims, star-crossed lovers, outcasts,
we have all seen the traces of these nether lands.
Sphinx-like, besotted, she lays among the bodies dashed.

A pixie smith has cast her silver chains, retained her
inside this mystic plane, stained her hide vintage rose.
Among the cards on the table, it is plain; she purrs.
Do you know what she knows; guess, a riddle she poses.

Protection sought from life's trials is at her command.
But, few coupled or single have journey past her grasp.
Unknown, to the unschooled, their senses unused, banned,
Christendom, the sacred fecund grail has miscast.

From Hatshepsut's visage, bound to Sekhmet she's sworn
beware, beware The Chariot's card once it is drawn.  




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2016


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The Sphinx

Her feline grace reclined, 
triumph ruled in Her eyes -
Many sought the blue flamed tryst 
in shaded groves they court with lies.

These men fell power drunk 
tripping on love’s wine; 
its tang turned acrid 
as they lapped the poisoned vine.

The once green forest cinder, 
no water for the lake was dry, 
The valley’s burnt to ashen gray 
and all She kissed have died. 



After:  The Blue Cat by Pamela Colman Smith 1907


For Debbie Guzzi's Ten Pictures, Ten Poems, Ten Days - Painting 3
Kim Patrice Nunez
09 January 2016


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2016