Still Life Poems

Still life

     Still life in a field

     with waiting  truck  -  colours of  

     Old Ford and farm days

The Stalker's Still Life Stare

The rose won’t pose, won't stay its will,
It knows it can’t be forced to stay still.
It sneaks movements between brush strokes,
Breaking free of the painter's staring yokes.

The lemon makes faces with bitter pride,
It hides its shyness with a snide slide.
Each subject plays a veiled charade,
As each freeze-frame is displayed.

The painter grabs what time would spill,
To

still life

i keep
a teacup with a cracked rim—
it doesn’t hold warmth for long
but i drink from it anyway.

the hallway light flickers
like it’s unsure
if it wants to stay on.
some nights,
i understand.

there’s a coat in the closet
that no one wears,
but i leave it hanging.

the walls don’t echo
when i speak softly.
so i don’t.
not anymore.

i fold myself into
the quiet corners

Is it still life:Her Quest for Identity

Is it still life? Her Quest for Identity.

Tis' stilled life
This still life
Distilled wife
Still - That's life
Mime wife. 



"Playing dumb while acting the role." 
The unspoken influence of mothers on their daughters. 
My mother in her work environment, and my mother at home were two completely "different" personalities. At work, I saw her happy and bubbly,

Still Life: Seventh-Grade Art Teacher Gets High Marks

I'm a woman now. I have means to be  
mean and get away with it.  
 
He died—too fast for my liking.  
I’d already hired a detective, 
ready to face it—  
or at least harass the details of the since-me 
life he must have lived. 
I've never spoken about it,
the last

STILL LIFE ekphrasis

STILL LIFE

breakfast
pieces

ABSTRACT STILL LIFE ekphrasis

ABSTRACT STILL LIFE

reprise
disguised

Still life

Turning my orange days grey, that’s what you do. 
Flicking my sun over to a moon, like in a child’s picture.
And you make it cold. I need a blanket made of foil.
like the stuff you’d wear around your head. 
Because you must be signalling other planets.
Because you can’t handle things. 
You take my sun, stars

MY STILL LIFE

a
disguised symbolism
in
an 
      immersive
  conception
enveloped &
surrounded
with
imagery
of the commonplace

revealed
by
  stimulations
of
the mind

an
illumination
becomes
 a
momento
of
   hypereality

Still Life

Give me a dawn stilled by mist,
a gray haze unrisen.
The shimmer of nocturnal lamps
held high.

A time for tree magic; a quite majesty,
all growth halted, transpiring not,
but held within a mystical abeyance.

A pause on the lip of light,
when woodland dreams
are hung from trailing moss,
or a dew drop drip,
from spider webs of translucency -

a fairytale time,
when a

STILL LIFE MODERNISTA 20-21 century

Still life  nature mortista

an immersive
  conception
enveloped &
surrounded
with
imagery
of the commonplace

a
disguised symbolism
in a cloak
        of
   interpretations
appearances
of
time
  standing
still
arrested
   moments
revealed
by
  stimulations
of
the mind


illuminations
of
past
  yesterdays
becoming
 todays
postponed
  memory
&
  lives
again

a
momento
mori
in hypereality
of
sentient
touchstones
in
memorials
  of perception

   aesthetic
 sublimations
of
spontaneity
in
fascinating
  expectations

a visual
 genesis
of
animation
 once distant
now
  alive
once more
 to past
 existence
from
shadows
of
 genesis

Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels

Self-Portrait 1-12-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels

Still life, not stillborn,
With a woman’s face
In dusky background hues,
 Pure clarity clothed in white,
Gazing on gastronomic abundance.

Artist of the banquet
One step behind – 
The woman’s place of her time -
Guardian of the sweet rewards
Served like bridal wine,
Topping the earthen vessel
Of embryonic fermentation.

In a cradle of fine delft
Consummated

Still Life

A rose blooms under a painter's hand.
He adds some pleasing dew, light and shade.
Sits back satisfied.

He notices a single rose in its vase
(his wife had set it upon the studio table),
it is withering. the water stagnant,
it smells, even more than the odor
of oil on canvas.
Grumbling, he throws the flower away.

He should have painted it.

Still Life

cool crisp fall morning
small black dog sits besides boy 
paw upon his lap

Still Life

"still life"


on an un
steady

easel 
stands

a stretched 
memory of

canvas 
that can't

hold its in
tended so

left
blank

right as
it was

for all
time with

out any
painted

makeup
making 

you 
a 

painter's
master

piece

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