Still Life Poems - Poems about 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...

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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,...

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On placid waters of the reflecting pool, petals fully open as in a gesture of silent imploring, surrounded by a world of shimmering reflections. Small red carp feed on tiny insects then disappear below, leaving ever widening circles that skim and intersect through each other. Steeped in prayful trance, seemingly undisturbed by abrasive sounds of nearby traffic or the...

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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...

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what I stem from in view the too small pot with too little soil yet, I appear whole, to have grown placed between things to balance my God, it works to provide support the moments of perfection, so brief! I must hold my breath, linger ~ the fear and knowledge of self overwhelms, terrifies, confuses... I know, you know, that I'll stop looking...

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STILL LIFE breakfast pieces...

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ABSTRACT STILL LIFE reprise disguised...

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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...

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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 ...

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White is placed last, just as dark is first It's vision through glass it is not a curse Is there value in stillness? I'm glad you asked Just as dark is first, white is placed last Are the order of things both real and dreams? The absolute rule is all is not as it seems Clarity is what a pause...

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you can see anything you want to in it's hazy lustre ...

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Sometimes the information just stops It's all squared off, but it feels too little Perhaps we can't trust what we see Maybe everything is between the lines All I need for this image is stored already I've read that paper in the dim light Placed it there in another reality I'm within and beyond the canvas Captured in ink, somewhere I need to...

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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...

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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 ...

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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...

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