I attended a special art exhibition of watercolors by artist, Judy Thompson, paired with poetry by her daughter, Kristin Gifford.
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leaving the art show
sun blazed pinks on evening sky
in rear view mirror
influencer in his studio
17 Sep 2025 11 Comments
in ekphrastic Tags: art, boat, impressionism, light, monet, reflection, river
An ekphrastic poem for dVerse poets pub where Merril features Monet’s “The Studio Boat” (1876) on display at Barnes Museum in Philadelphia.
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i get the impression…
claude is quite familiar
with rivers, at home in
boats; mesmerized by
lily pads, bridges, and
play of light on water.
monet’s a mirror master
who had ripple effect on
the currents of art history
but who knows if he’d prefer
painting plein aire to fishing?
if we’d float in a houseboat
together, wonder how long
i’d reflect your expression?
motionless yet emotionally
framed as impressionistic.
mirrored image
05 Jan 2025 2 Comments
in senryu, tanka Tags: art, chiaroscuro, girl, light, pearl, Vermeer
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art’s epiphany—
all light is borrowed from God
to reflect glory!
in chiaroscuro contrast—
we’re shadowed, yet drawn to light
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Idea of “borrowed light” taken from book I’m reading, Rembrandt is in the Wind, by Russ Ramsey.
that’s entertainment?
08 Apr 2024 34 Comments
in prosery Tags: art, diva, entertainment, music, stars
Angling Agent: I can help you get your big break if you’re ready to deal.
Undiscovered Diva: Ok, yeah. I could use a break so just tell me what I need to do.
Agent: Your songs are too happy…you gotta write something darker, create an edgier voice, if you know what I mean.
Diva: But I think music should lift people up…that’s what it does for me.
Agent: That’s too predictable. You need to push the envelope with revealing costumes too.
Diva: I want to sell my music, not my body and soul!
Agent: Look, if you impress the right people, they’ll give you a million dollar record contract!
Diva: Do they even produce records any more? I just want to make my music.
Agent: What does it matter, that? The stars we see are already dead…and dead stars still burn.
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Prosery prompt with Dora at dVerse. Write 144 words and include this line from poet Amy Woolard: “What does it matter that the stars we see are already dead.“
watercolour poet
18 Oct 2023 24 Comments
in ekphrastic Tags: art, canyon, crows, desert, imagination, mesa, paint
“To create one’s own world takes courage.”
–Georgia O’Keeffe
more than a dead tree
or virginal flower flush
with blushing petals,
an artist forms reality
heart lifts in imagination
mind soars with creativity
above dry, dusty desert
of hardpan relationship
soul flies to canyon lands
of welcoming sagebrush;
bleeding art on red clay
bursts from the shadows
paints emotional palette,
wanders beyond rim until
satisfied by fruits of wine
and feast of distant mesa
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Ekphrastic poetry for dVerse poets’ pub hosted by Melissa Lemay.
tarashikomi style
14 May 2018 Leave a comment
in tanka Tags: art, ink, Japanese, monk, painting, persimmon, screen
Tweetspeak poets at the MET Japanese art exhibit…
gold fold-screen panel
graceful brushstrokes of mottled ink
lone tree jags bare sky
artful monk desires fuyu—
persimmon, red-orange ripe
*note: persimmon’s Latin name means “food of the gods”
by Sakai Hoitsu, 1816
stalked by Claude
16 Mar 2017 30 Comments
in list poem, Uncategorized Tags: art, field, harvest, haystack, light, village
Meeting the Bar at dVerse Poets with Bjorn looking at impressionistic art
layers of light
flecks of colour
giant’s velvet
birthday cupcake
or thatched hut
is sunlit stack of
bovine manna
dried muffin-top
will-o-wisps in wind
dense center holds
heat of long day
gleaned stubble field
rests in cool shade
robust wet dabs
of painter’s palette
reflects sweat of
villagers’ harvest
haystack by Monet
city-escape
18 Oct 2016 14 Comments
in haibun, Uncategorized Tags: art, city, culture, homeless, pigeons, police
National conference downtown allows brief time for exploring familiar noisy streets. Walking with a friend to art museum through civic park reveals underbelly of city. A few paces on hot concrete in summer sun induces sweat. Try not to notice drug deal under shade of fountain colonnade or homeless lounging against marbled wall near bronzed statue. Pigeons investigate remnants of fast food, old newspapers and cigarette butts. Step across colorful chalk-lettered sidewalk declaring “Black Lives Matter” while handful of protestors camp under tree. Police car cruises by, another has stopped a car of rowdy boys. Keep focused on destination while avoiding curbside drunks. Hastily cross boulevard ahead of traffic bearing down. The beautiful main entrance of memories is under construction and visitors are directed past dirt piles to alley door. Once inside, relax in climate-controlled air and stroll past paintings and exhibits, admiring the polished side of human culture.
pillowed hotel room
sirens howl in the night
dazed lights of city
Linking with dVerse Poets where Bjorn hosts modified haibun Monday.
poetic cubism (to the 3rd power)
13 Oct 2014 2 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: art, cubism, diatomaceous, oblique, obtuse
cell cell cellulose
sell sell cellulite
“le don de salon” (grand gift of living room)
wrangle of tangled angles
obliquely leaking geekiness?
“goodness gracious, such spacious diatomaceous!”
highbrow eyebrow i spy eyesore?
“geometric excuse for obtuse abuse.”
pic pik pick picasso!
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Inspired by d’Verse Poets (but i was too late to link up to their “cubism” prompt)!
“self-portrait”
19 Apr 2014 2 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: art, masterpiece, mirror, self-portrait
Artwork, Mosaic of Life, by Cheryl Kellar: http://cherylkellar.com/about
how does an artist look at oneself objectively? Picasso’s inscrutable,
Van Gogh looks disturbed, Rembrandt is thoughtful, Durer has angel hair.
we can technically enhance “selfies” to make us seem better than we are
but doesn’t alter fact that we’re naturally selfish and overly self-conscious.
do we recognize that we’re meant to be a masterpiece? yes, created
in 3-dimensional form of body, mind, spirit…breathing, animated flesh
a living sculpture shaped by a loving Master, in his very image…yet,
afraid of his reflection, we paint over our mirror with dull, ugly colors.
i am thankful He found me – reclaimed, reframed to display in his gallery.
beauty himself pays highest bid, saves from auction and re-creates art!
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Prompt by Brian at d’Verse, missed “linkie” by 5 minutes!
Check out their poets’ pub (see sidebar).
a poem in my pocket 
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