Ekphrastic Poems

Millais’ “Ophelia” 

White flowers in the bushes 

of overlapping vegetation, undulation.

Chaos in the background 

of the woman drowning.

She flows atop the river water,

Surrounded by a violet and carnation

Suffixation, asphyxiation,

Before even being submerged. 

The transparent blue of the water

Is as glassy as her eyes.

I want to paint you drowning 

Like Millais’ Ophelia.

Inspired by “Primavera” By Botticelli 

Spring is born, undying in the darkness of the orange trees

Graces float in translucent gowns, twirled in violet silks and ambrosia scent

In the woods somewhere, she falls from–cold arms wrap her, to seize

To offer the ruler of the darkness; sentenced to an eternity of torment. 

Petals of rose scattered in the mud and dirt, among wildflowers that bound from soot

Ground in the toil of orange skins and found by warriors in time ever passing

Mortals and nymphs reach for the same sweet, forbidden fruit

Through the whispering windy gates of Venus’ garden, trespassing. 

Aimed with deadly precision and dipped with the honey of lust, flies Cupid’s arrow

Wrapped in silken robes, Venus beckons the rich earth to die so it can again grow.

From The Birth of Venus by Botticelli: Staring.  

The sweetest gift of the most awful crime 

From passion as the truest form of suffering 

Your love as gracious as the scythe of time 

Sculpted out of brawling, beseeching, bleeding Gods.

How do you feel when everyone’s looking? 

When the oil spills down figures still staring, and the visitors keep hiding 

A million eyes of the world stop to see 

Your unkempt purity, pale modesty, unregistered beauty.

They’re reaching 

To drape you in their finest silk   

You just stand in blue misty light

With soft written skin, wondering  

Is there not some cruel venom within? 

From Heaven’s blood you do churn 

Ichor and sorrow stretched in an urn 

Incessant stares so you know nobody 

Can erase their memory of you.

Inspired by “The Kiss” by Klimt

Over the cliff of blues,

Of violets, of yellows

Your soft fingers

Engulfed me in their sweet embrace

Over the fountain of youth

My face with yours

United in a galaxy

Of total disarray

Over the edge

Kneeling

Indebted to your touch

Like the arc of the laurels 

Over mountains of doubt

Assurance through breath

Blankets of gold

You put out my fears

Over the shoulder

Under the neck

Through my hair

Out the garden

Inspired by “Hayes Common” by William Henry Millais

Sweet vigor of my youth, 

How I wish you would return. 

Rosy cheeks, bright eyes, skin smooth, 

How simple it was for my world to turn. 

My morning walks cured any displeasure; 

I marched through the grass coated in dew 

Bearing a basket of found treasure,

Clad in a dress and apron of palest blue. 

An oak tree grew proudly over my head, 

Sparrows sang songs of spring in the lush thicket, 

“Carry on!” they called, as I continued to tread, 

Blissfully ignorant of adulthood as I spotted a cricket.

Painting that Hangs in my Grandparents’ House

You stand there, your hair

Glowing gold in the sun

Your bathrobe of silk

Sky-blue thread, finely spun

Who are you? What are you?

A moment in time

Forever imprisoned

Alive with naught but rhyme.