Your smile shines~
as the early effulgence enshrouds
upon wisteria water
echoing ephemeral embraces
on tenebrous turquoise trees
that bear your name.
Your laughters linger~
upon the emerald leaves
that radiate a lilac shade
as the sun goes up
like your eyes that sparkle a hue
transforming into Caribbean blue
on the first glance
of a sweet romance.
Your song soars~
entwined in ethereal ensemble
above each passing cloud
where etched elegies echo
a lost and found love.
That magical morning scene
of enchanted garden near Giverny
unveils a dream I keep
in wild willows lilac leaves
where my story dwells in silence .
The shy sky behind them~
wishes to kiss the gleaming water
where silent sanctuaries are sheathed
upon the indigo shadow,
accentuated by fine chiaroscuro
embracing purple petals
that whisper through silent water
where lofty love story dwells~
perpetuated by each sunrise.
She rises into the sky’s bright breath,
her dress a sail the wind has claimed.
Sunlight drifts over her in petal-light shimmers,
each of Monet’s brushstroke a whisper of movement.
The parasol tilts, green and glowing
a small moon held against the trembling blue.
Below her, the grasses lean in admiration,
their soft applause lost in the shimmer of day.
Amid silence filled
with tranquil fervor,
the Weeper stands
blotting the earth
green and yellow keen
against the echoes
of artillery and
dead men
damned to the
muddy wounds of war
and if my heart is flawed ~
a muse-less manipulator,
it is because
it has known the murk
where nymphaea drift
through green grief
of algae blooms,
yet still m e l t s
in mauve muteness
to feel love’s rhythm
in merciful melancholy,
whilst the air
ripples like fractured light
on a liquid edge
dreaming,
drawing
somewhere
between silence and sacredness,
as mind mimics migrating birds
blissfully bruised
but never broken...
for I am the essence
of an aquatic-blossom ~
soft yet strong ~
patience my pulse
kindness my dignified design,
when coldness finds
its cruel coherence...
O beloved,
feel me
beyond the sighing pond-mists.
I am your mirror
in shallow reflections,
interpreting your
quivering quietness
into unbreakable
laces of light
that float and breathe
as mindfulness
frames the placid pixels
in oil pigments ~
an aura of an artist
can refine to redefine,
where lilies linger
and the water reminisces
its own sun's
luminous f l o w ...
Dear Lord,
I'm ready to sip the trumpet's venom.
I'm ready for the flood, the white fire fingertips.
To rinse the devil's grin into the abyss....
I pray the predators have a slow-motion bleed.
A cut of their chandelier's electricity.
I pray, Lord, you let the children gather wings.
To make their way into eternity.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready for a refurbishing of Eden.
A smoothing of a fractured soul
A refurbishing of our twisted strand.
An immaculate rebirth-a pristine gold.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready-so bring it on.
Lay it on thick and heavenly strong.
Bring the shadow of your blackest song.
Bring on the rapture
Flood their islands, crumble their castles
Cool down their nuclear reactors.
Lay a scythe to proud pyramids and rocket ships.
Treat their cock roach souls
like they've treated our children's dreams and hopes.
I pray you glean the gems from clay.
The lily from the winter pond of Monet.
Claude Monet- Olive Trees in Bordighera 1884
Sun-Dappled Roots in Bordighera
The olive trees, a tapestry of age,
Kneel on the hillside, turning a new page
Of light and shadow. Not the willow's weep,
But the slow wisdom that the branches keep.
Their trunks are muscle, gnarled and iron-red,
Twisting from earth where ancient roots are spread.
A violet bruise deep in the bark's core,
Where the Mediterranean sun has pressed before.
The canopy, a thousand hurried strokes,
A restless, shivering dark that gently chokes
The fierce bright sky. Emerald and indigo dance,
Captured in paint by a fleeting, sunlit trance.
Below, the soil burns a fierce, ochre heat,
A sudden, bold orange where the shadows meet.
A fiery carpet, scattered and intense,
Reflecting brilliance, defying reticence.
No clear blue harbor, no orderly plaid,
But Impressionism in its rugged pad—
The light itself, the subject, sharp and new,
Sifting through branches, showing its mood to you.
conjuring monet's
enchanted gardens
~ midday reverie
AO: 2nd place 2025
French artist Claude Monet
painted scenes from life occurring day to day.
Peace he found from his large garden pond
where paintings of 250 water lilies he spawned.
MONET
obsessed
by
light
TRIKU the single word ekphrasis hiku with integral one word title -
A crooked cobblestone street of windows
A maze of windows - creating a mournful meandering mirror
Watching, waiting, and wishing to be magical and magnificent
The brilliance of becoming something more
And as misty darkness undressed the Day
As luck would have it - wish granted, and it was a Monet.
Monet in Venice
a flock of pigeons treats him
as just a tourist
.
.
.
.
.
.
.EN PLEIN AIR
.
.
.
.
.
.
I am devastated, dumbfounded, dismayed,
These people are so stupid, or crazy,
They threw some hot soup
On a painting by Claude Monet,
These people are ridiculous, wicked,
Who will listen to them? Not me,
How can you believe what they say?
They destroy immortal works,
These people are so stupid, or crazy,
No one will defend their cause,
They’re like child killers
Who come to talk to us about God.
Je suis catastrophé, médusé, atterré,
Ces gens sont si idiots, ou fous,
Ils ont jeté de la soupe chaude
Sur une toile de Claude Monet,
Ces gens sont ridicules, méchants,
Qui voudra les écouter ? Pas moi,
Comment croire ce qu’ils disent ?
Ils saccagent des œuvres immortelles,
Ces gens sont si idiots, ou fous,
Personne ne défendra leur cause,
Ils sont comme des tueurs d’enfant
Qui viennent nous parler de Dieu.
moments
of
reflection
silhouettes &
blurs
detail
disintegrates
out
of
focus
shapes
become
fusions
of
colour
shimmering
impressions melt
into
memory
of
veiled
movement
of leaves
whispers
in
abstract
illusions
endless whole
yet
so alive
facinations
fixed light
in
contemporary
with imagination
blended
with
the exquisite
wrought
&
transcribed
views
naturalistic
derived
from reality
...revealed
God is an artist of great masterpieces who --like Monet--
likes to shift colors on His palette throughout the light of day :)
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