Ekphrasis: Artwork & Poetry Pairings

Nobody Home

After Isabel Dawson

It’s the room without the people,

warmly colored, yet empty.

The light shines through the

dark curtains, draped and messy.

The pillows, the more your eye lingers,

dissolve into the darkly lined chair

The room with nobody there, what

happened to the people?

Absorbed into the red gingham pattern

that frames the purple window.

Maybe the curtains, they took

them with the crisp wind.

Towering trees, with their spider-like

branches, somehow they threatened them.

The rug, a black hole, swallowed

them, or perhaps they were never there.

Emily Foscaldo

Little House on a Cliff

After Kiera MacAneney

A small house,

sitting on the edge of a cliff.

Waves are crashing into the beach,

creating a white noise for those in the house.

At the edge of the rough, red cliff,

the lonely house lies

between two blues,

the choppy blue waters

and crisp blue sky.

In its own world,

isolating anyone who steps inside

from the chaos of the real world outside.

Haley Tietjen

Water Lilies

After Yekatarina Martin

Uniquely hundreds lie over the water. Each telling their own story. Different shapes

and different sizes, but somehow, they all

come together. One and the same,

but nothing alike. Needs that

are identical, that do nothing but

bring them together. Yet although they exist together they are independent. One by one

they lie over the water. Serving each

their own purpose, but continuing to always

find them together. Half the water lies

empty, not a lily in sight. Bare trees

surrounded by brush. Undoubtedly a system

that needs to work together, simply trying to find peace

by working together. Being forced to

function off one another. There is no

other choice, for even the things lurking

under the water must come together. A system

becoming one. Individually having a role

to help themselves. Brings serenity

to a home for many others. Teaching us

that in life we must play our part, being kind

to all the others. Realizing that

we must all do our part, to help one another.

Jolie Creo

Orbits

After the work of Grace Peluso

A life is nothing but different compositions of orbits.

Humans revolving around one another for a time

before spiraling into a new path or going supernova

and blasting each other out of the way.

You won’t catch me writing about love,

just what comes after. Just how I learn to

trace helical patterns through the chapters of my life.

How after getting my heart broken, everything

feels like a black hole stretching on for a while.

How I drift off course, waiting

for my gravity to grow strong enough

to bring somebody close to me again.

My grandfather tells me people attract whatever

they release into the world. Energy is cyclical like that,

like the neon purple and yellow sign

outside the fortune teller’s shop: Ms. Robichaux’s House of Healing.

She tells me the planets will align and my next love will be my last.

And then one night, the sky is clear and vast, and I meet him.

Those moments where I first revolve around him

pass in slow motion, like I am waking from a long nap,

or watching a time-lapse video of the stars

in the summer sky. His pull on me is so strong, it reminds

me my heart is still capable of beating fast, that my skin

can still breakout in goosebumps. There is this curious feeling,

something I’m afraid to hold too close for fear

I might crush it. Life is made of orbits.

That night, it takes some time before I can find

my balance again and pull myself away and

make my legs walk me home.

Grace Berlew

Greed

Inspired by Fernando Torralba

Maybe this was bound to happen . . .

I thought I was bound for greatness,

Turns out I am bound to a knife.

The power I felt, the greatness I had,

It all faded into darkness.

I was the ruler, though was I that bad?

Approached by my vassal with his blade drawn,

I resided in darkness not thinking it was much.

Turns out they had been planning this since my dawn.

What did I do wrong?

Was it that a part of me was gone?

No, I wronged them,

My greed

Wronged them.

Adam Fung

FINAL

Inspired by Fernando Torralba

Bars inside of bars,

reminding me of

a ferris wheel of cages.

Ferric fun holds us still

like children sitting on

hay bales in the back of

a moving truck. In

one cage I imagine

animals stolen and

enslaved: birds, giraffes,

tigers, bats. In another,

I imagine hellish convicts

imprisoned in a cell so

complex that even the

architect lives there—how

cruel. The caged cage

traps the already trapped.

The trapper trapped in her

cage of cages. The farthest

cage holds the observer

entrapped in a nest of

lines and shadows

like a needle in the hay

bales children sit on in

the back of a moving truck.

But I am encaged in

ferrous feelings, voiceless

bars making no sound

when struck, my voice

also impounded.

Donnel Delva

Roof and Its Simple Connections

After José Tenorio-Villagomez

What is a roof?

Envelope of a building that

protects and provides shelter,

projects itself out into . . .

our primal, original shelter:

Nature.

Which has preserved and nourished mankind for millennia,

giving us resources and life.

The grey, mundane roof on the left

turns shades of basil, olive, and pine on the right,

blending into the environment.

Grey paths, benches . . .

all now resemble moss and shades of emerald,

seamless with . . .

Nature.

Oh what a simple but beautiful connection.

Mason Marag

The Sound of Nature

After José Tenorio-Villagomez

I’ve walked through a sea of green

much like this before. I kept my ears

open, so I wouldn’t miss any sounds.

The ear represents human interaction

with nature—only one of five

ways we connect with

the environment. Keep your ear close

to the ground, maybe you’ll hear

what lies beneath Earth, secrets that

can’t be seen. The residue of

two footprints persists in the grass,

heading out of this green abyss,

or are they just entering, ready to delve in?

The only thing that separates the

fossilized feet is a box,

but this person stepped over it,

not allowing any obstacles to prevent them from

further natural immersion.

The curvy border limits

whoever may be exploring this scene,

though it couldn’t stop

the most determined traveler, who has already

stepped over the border.

I don’t know how to traverse

this sea of green, but the footprints

are an excellent guide.

Billy Cornell

dissolving cities

after Jasmine Williams

1—

walking through a city—

no, the city has eyes—

no, the eyes have faces

looking at the sky—

no, there are fish—

and buildings—

and madness.

2—

a forgotten city lies

buried in darkness.

existing below the known—

look on and despair,

for whether it be life frozen or

nothing beside remains,

those monochrome passions survive.

Ellie Halloran