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Saw this prompt and gave it a try. Up the creek in 8 lines. SanctuaryDeep into the redwoodsand up the creek awaysis my sanctuary.A secret spacewhere the silent forestwelcomes my prayers,the giant trees liftthem to the heavens. ~~Judi Van Gorder

Today's prompt twinkle or corode Use one or both words within the poem. In Gratitude Both eyes don't twinkle anymore,It seems with age the glimmer fades,slowly coroding to dim sightbut, corrective lenses fixed thatuntil a clot blew in one eye.A grey cloud now obscures vision.A stroke of sorts, who ever knew?Gatefully the other still sparks. ~~Judi Van Gorder

La Moulin de la Galette, Pastry Chef Renoir concocts a delicacy from another time, a Napoleon, "mille feuille", a thousand leaves, rich with the cream of humanity gathered close, layered with intimacy from a touch, an embrace, the crush of a crowd where one must lean in to converse and savor words spoken over dance music served with a dash of romance. Generations and genders plated with a master chef's hand and presented with French panache. ~~ Judi Van Gorder Notes: ▼ Original posted for National Poetry Writing Month in the Playground. I've made a couple of revisions and decided to post it in the Showcase where it is more likely to be read. April 28: poem based on a well-known painting or photograph (& provide a link to it!) La Moulin de la Gallete

La Moulin de la Galette, Pastry Chef Renoir concocts a delicacy from another time, a Napoleon, "mille feuille", a thousand leaves, rich with the cream of humanity gathered close, the smooth intimacy of a touch, an embrace, the crush of a crowd where one must lean in to converse and savor words spoken over dance music served with a dash of romance. Generations and genders plated with a master chef's hand and presented with French panache. ~~ Judi Van Gorder Original posted here in the Playground April 28 The Revised Version is posted in Showcase Revision April 28: poem based on a well-known painting or photograph (& provide a link to it!) La Moulin de la Gallete

Photo by Bob Turn @ writing.com The Other SideBlue haze cocoons the pastel path I stroll. My cushioned footsteps almost float forward,drawn toward the portalthat beckons me to cross throughto the other side.Lavender airseeps into my lungssoothing,slowing my limbs.I hesitate at the gate. ~~Judi Van Gorder

The Sky is Low, the Clouds are Mean The Sky is low -- the Clouds are mean. A Travelling Flake of Snow Across a Barn or through a Rut Debates if it will go -- A Narrow Wind complains all Day How some one treated him Nature, like Us is sometimes caught Without her Diadem. ~~Emily Dickinson Commentary: I guess I am on an Emily kick. This Dickinson poem is written in Common Measure which she often uses. Her poem so fits my day. Enough A damp, dirty-dishrag sky clings to me, infusing my skin with a subtle chill. The anxious flutter in my chest has not gone away from my screwed up blood test and I'll have to do it again. Phones ring with someone's pain, I respond with a hopeful, compassionate voice while their agony pulls me in. I look for a poem to share and Emily speaks my day. Sometimes, that's enough. ~~Judi Van Gorder

Van Gogh's Basket of PotatoesA woven basket, well wornand filled to overflowingwith potatoes freshly dug from dark dirt,hung somberlyon the gallery wall. My finger tipscake with dust.The grit of the earthpricks my noseand smudges my soul.Amongst brilliantpaintings of windmillsand sunflowersthis subdued, simplicity,pared to its base,guides my brush. ~~Judi Van Gorder Vincent Van Gogh's Basket of Potatoes

Poor Oliver, when he asked for more gruel, at a school whose default setting is: "cruel." Did a mere boy think this Board to be fools, to donate undeserving brats too much fuel? As our hero received the severest telling-off so far better for him he did not solicit broth. More victuals, daresay richer stuffs to scoff, scamps'll soon demand linctus if they cough. Dickens did not live in today's benificent days, describing for us Britain's then social malaise. He'd twist Ollie's luck with propitious coup de théâtre, he may have soup enough hereafter.

* Art refers to a diverse range of human activities and artifacts, and may be used to cover all or any of the arts, including music, literature and other forms. It is most often used to refer specifically to the visual arts, including mediums such as painting, sculpture, and printmaking. However it can also be applied to forms of art that stimulate the other senses, such as music, an auditory art. Aesthetics is the branch of philosophy which considers ART. * passage from Wikipedia _________________________ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Art Okay that is just for to make quick note for art. And sure we must have this thread because of fun and sharing our crafts, skills, anything what we want to share from the art field So have fun and enjoyable time in this ART section 😉 Aleksandra

Explore the Craft of Writing Greek Verse Ecphrastic or ekphrastic Greek (speaking out) is a genre of verse that can be traced to ancient Greece and Plato's Republic, Book X. It is considered a rhetorical device using one art form to define another. In this forum it would be defined as a poem inspired by another piece of art. Originally the inspiration was confined to visual art such as a painting or sculpture but it has expanded to include auditory or sensory art forms such as a symphony or dramatization. The word painting should be a lucid self contained description of the inspiration and should be as vivid as the art it describes. It can go beyond the inspiration providing history or dramatizing, telling a story to expand the vision. "Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting with the gift of speech."Simonides(556 BC - 468 BC) The elements of Ecphrastic verse are: a genre of verse inspired by another piece of art. frame, meter, rhyme at the discretion of the poet. West Clare, August by Brendan Lyons inspired by Old Irish Farmer (sorry I couldn't read the artist's name) The wind, rippling across unruly fields, is chill, not warm, on this summer night, and it runs in a rush down the narrow road between tangled bushes of unripe berries. A tall shape appears, dark from the darkness, a bicycle of the sturdy kind, its dim light dancing, of a type much admired by bachelor farmers. A song, a sweet tenor, separates from the air, and the clear heart-breaking song of youth arises: it is the thrush-like throat of Dinny Joe, who was all of eighty-four when the sister died, his housekeeper, last year or the year before? I retreat without words into silent shadows for I would not for the world interrupt him as he cycles into darkness, legend and death. Another eckphrastic inspired by Knee Deep by Marieluise Hutchinson January by Tõnis Veenpere Minus eleven, drifts of snow aglow. Your house -- quiet, lit, and occupied. I'm under the maple remembering your laughter your gentle conversation, and I miss you. A windless chill. The smoke from your hearth hangs still in the purple sky. ***** More Pastry Chef by Judi Van Gorder I Remember When Elephant Tree Heaven's Chaos Civilization Firefly And one inspired by another poem. Just my reaction after reading The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock by TS Elliot Advice to old Prufrock by Judi Van Gorder You prowl the streets at night haunting skid row dives. The catlike yellow fog clouds your mind and lulls your soul to sleep. The women may speak of another hero, it is no matter, jealousy diminishes. You have known them, yet still they distract. You not they decide your course. The clock ticks steadily but it hasn't stopped. Fear and doubt freeze the spirit just as hope opens the door and allows artistry to flow freely. Step away from the dusk and walk into the dawn. The mermaids sing for you if you just open your heart. Dare to take pen in hand and you may find some will listen.