These thoughts we frame and title
hang now from long defunct dendrites,
made branchless by the passé and pointless
now all strung-up upon threadbare strings.
Ones or twice the hanged are molested
by magpies seeking baubles for their nests,
yet most go unrobbed and remain as still as death,
or they twist in chill uncaring winds.
These thoughts shaped to mind-images,
collected together in empty galleries,
these works nibbled at; edited by blind mice
who then hurriedly hide from sight
the slipshod carpentry of our words.
These portraits of spent passions
may still be gazed upon
by the idle few, who beyond all reason
choose to elect a passing cloud
to admire or decry,
plucking out that feathery fragment,
as if it were the real feature
of the faceless and yet untold.
Nature is one big art gallery
faded oil portraits
in gold patina frames
hide on gallery walls
The one who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. Those who walk alone are likely to find themselves in places no one has ever seen before." -. (Quote by Albert Einstein)
Shaped models are made
for an art gallery show,
where to be unique
for somebody to like us
among the difficult crowd
Outside the sanctum, clenched teeth, tension,
a sense of being spun slowly, in comical ocean drift
Bobbed cork barely able to rein my orientation.
Luckily, current flux of haphazard happening flapped
a variable vantage.
Blown as though by silk hankie butterfly blessing
launched under lead light detail dragonfly wing
Inside the sluice.
tender seagrass arms greet me, surprise caressed
Silky entry to a tepid tub, a calm community
of smug inner sanctum club members, afloat.
Blind to bedlam, their faces automatically accepting
Smarmy, aloof, knowing the code
Clicked into correct holding pattern
Galvanized now among the longed for,
unlocked passage
Boasts a right angled me, porthole refuge
Catatonic sanctum immune to struggle
Bay of steady abundance
Top step mission for admission somehow granted mine
Spotlight shon on my cloned social demeanor,
Meticulously honed modesty of highbrow gallery.
24th February
Written for Contest: Gateway
Sponsor: Constance La France
Deja vu-
it startles us at times-
in a flash- coming before us;
a conversation
an interaction
almost anything-
exact in every detail
as we lived it before.
We are mesmerized,
asking ourselves-
how does this happen?
All is saved in The Gallery of Life.
There are four walls in
Four-Dimensional Space-Time.
Like a gallery, they safeguard
our beginning to end
with images from our
birth,
childhood,
adulthood
and death,
saved from every second
of our life in this Universe.
The gallery of our life
in the gallery of time;
in the space-time continuum,
forever and ever in
Four-Dimensional Space-Time-
Where somehow- seconds escape
to wake our memories-
in real-time.
Art galleries are to me ...
a) like coming home as it always feels right
b) it is a place to let go of all tension
c) it inspires my mind in so many positive ways
d) and makes my mind wander to beautiful places
e) all of the above
Art galleries bring out my creativity ...
a) by viewing art I am left in awe
b) they provide me with a window into the past
c) I analyse the skill, brushstrokes and colors used by the artists
d) and I contemplate the scenes, mood and even the frames
e) all of the above
Art galleries give me great knowledge ...
a) I learn about artist from the past and the new artists of now
b) I develop by taking tours and learning the histories of the art
c) and I take advantage of special exhibits and workshops offered
d) and the daily lectures are very informative
e) all of the above
____________________
February 09, 2023
Poetry/List/The Art Gallery Test
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1524-255-09
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La Franc
Written for the Standard contest, Multiple Choice
sponsor, Suzanne Delaney, Judged 03/07/2023
Second Place
My Poem is-
Stale flowers of barren lover
No touchstone water, no fertilizer
-Poem is empty wine bottle
No one is interested there
-Poem is withered leaves
West wind blows away far
-Poem is breathless corpse
All are busy to bury in sham tear
-Poem is glittering dew
Under sunshine it’s fading bare
-Poem is yellowish spring
Winter cell strips off sly wear
-Poem is defilement of outraged girl
Stuff of enjoyment in cheap censure
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
January 23, 2023
GALLERY
a
splash
of colour
&
joy
brought
exhilaration
a repurposed
compulsive
fascination
with
intensity
an affectionate
motifs
so
graphic
in
a light
hearted
brief
of
accessibility
a lifetime
opportunity
in
nuanced
space
a
conceit
of
created
vanity
original
entire
a
sound
comparative
so
self-effacing
& dismissive
accolades
of
asides
out loud
of
inspiration
stretches
so
far back
an obvious
connection
between
vision
&that
of
colour
to draw
attention
to a show
of
the
scale
&survey
the
gaiety
so
playfully
ornamental
topped
with shards
of turquoise
like
delight
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
His shop is filled with the finest treasures
The artist walks ‘midst his imposing creations,
By the marvelous statuary, and original pictures.
Artifacts collected from myriads of nations
Featuring tapestries and folk art unparalleled,
The artist walks ‘midst his imposing creations
And those of other masters who’ve excelled
In the finest of arts, from both here and abroad,
Featuring tapestries and folk art unparalleled.
Any person of the finer tastes will be awed
By the lovely oils and large mixed media
In the finest of arts, from both here and abroad.
The artist is clearly a legendary encyclopedia
My appreciation for his knowledge enhanced
By the lovely oils and large mixed media.
As I ambled through, I became entranced
His shop is filled with the finest treasures
My appreciation for his knowledge enhanced
By the marvelous statuary and original pictures.
Written July 25, 2022
Sliding sun suffuses crimson color
Perfect portrait, resembles Picasso’s painting
Glowing glints and flaring flames, slowly
Dangling and drooping down for bidding bye-bye
Weary, worn sun pecks torrent tides
Silent Sojourn, at horizon hovers,
Vacates, welcoming the diffusing dark
Photo : 3
E. 10 -12- 9 - 11- 8- 10- 10
Syllable Check : PS
Date: 03-12-2021
Alliterisen 2 Poetry Contest
Verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Placed: 1st
A showing off in an art gallery
My heart blends and melts
into the colours of every brush stroke
slowly I feel, breath, and become the canvas
11/14/2021
An indoor showroom for
Invaluable art pieces
To attract your attentions
To the beauty of nature
Or your admirations
To the beauty of creations of men
Maybe for the eyes only
But no bargains
Premiered at Gin Mill Playhouse, Seattle, WA – 3/6/2007
ACT 1
My Trip to the Lake
Hard All Over
Cinderella after Midnight
Beef Jerky and a Bottle of Wine
Quiet Down the Mountain
ACT 2
Parched Corn in the Dry Tortugas
Living on Bread Alone
Gambler’s Confession
Edge of a Dime
Sociology 101
Bull of the Woods
ACT 3
Esméralda
Spring City
Prisoner of Need
Missing Melissa
Half a World Away
What Have You Done?
The Final Word
in the public square
you are not to be questioned
just admired
for your dark demonstrations
of being
the hanging black spider waves its life at you
perhaps the arachnid lover is demoralized
by your hidden beauty
hard to tell
you cringe under its radiant otherness
in the public museum
take the tour backwards
let the man with the megaphone mouth
spin his webs not from the center out
but outer to inner
inwardness opens windows in closed walls
be kind to the blank eyed watchers
here is a beautiful oil on canvas
there is a spider in the corner
that no one notices
for it has no frame
its eight legs tremble
The man in the bus-driver cap
extols her still not living attractions
the ugliness of the moment
is memorized by the whole gallery
only the Picasso remains free
of the taint of paint
A fat woman sighs into my face
threads exude
multiple silky spinnerets
droop from sticky glands
I want out
the way I came in
but am now too endangered
to weave my way out of this
carry out picture palace
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