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jd daniels

Dan England

Joyce Berrian Ferrari

Sandy Greco

Linda Hughes

Holly McEntyre
Paul David Adamick

Jaye Boswell

Honey Costa

Paula Eckerty

Beth Everhart

Scott Guelcher

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ArtPoems 2016 Gallery
Salon A
Shootout in L.A.
   Inspired by artist Roy Rodriguez' "The Snapshot"

The photographer sets up the perfect shot
and wants to yell, Stop! to the woman in black 
obliviously walking onto the labyrinth,

into the picture he framed—
sky ice blue, pink blossoms bearing 
singular beauty on wintered branches. 

The photographer shoots what he sees—
A dark-dressed figure snapping her pic,  
dwarfed in his sight line…

Mesmerized by lines and angles 
bathed in silver curves—she, too 
aims her lens upward, targets the space.

A moment, on this spring morning
clouds shift, a petal loses its place,
the building, a cool, blank shimmer. 

Witness what draws us to the scene
the element that makes us look …
each shooting our own story, 

   - Lorraine Walker Williams
The Snapshot   by Roy Rodriguez   ArtPoems 2016
   Inspiration for artist Linda Lally's "Awakening"

Your favorite color is white.
Inside your white house
white carpets cover the floors,
walls dazzle with white shine,
white sheets on your bed.
You eat from white plates,
drink white wine,
wipe Alfredo from your lips
with a white linen napkin.

Recall the day we drove 
the white limo away
from the white church
you in your white tux
I in my long white dress,
white rice tangled in my hair.
With hand on white bible 
you swore to cherish me 
even after 
my hair turned gray.

We both know… 
As now, I turn from your dark stare 
my hand to my darkening cheek
the lie you told that day
wasn’t white.

   - Linda Hughes

Awakening   by Linda Lally   ArtPoems 2016
New Jerusalem   by Kathy Kuser   ArtPoems 2016
The New Jerusalem
   Inspired by Kathy Kuser’s digital surrealism "The New Jerusalem"

Children’s laughter rang through windows
rhythm of kneaded bread and kindling split
Papa home from tending livestock, riding fence
Fire in the stove, simmering that day’s supper
nothing fancy, nothing more than what they need

For the moment blistered hands, aching backs, the baby
buried before her first Christmas, neighbors taken
by yellow fever, prices of seed and hogs, worries 
of sun and rain and wind all at just the right times
All at bay to music of laughter and light and love  

But there was word of another place, just over the mountain
just the other side of the river, just beyond the next 
mountains, just at the other edge of the horizon

And they left this place they called home
loaded what fit in the wagon, the rest left behind
while mules pulled to next horizons
The next places promised to be better than this

Vines, wind, time overtook the house, whitewash bled from walls
fences mended daily dissolved into Earth
light faded to shadows of nothing 

Tilled acres grown over taken back by deer and grouse 
mice and ‘coons and pigeons filled the house
Their New Jerusalem

They moved again and again, followed the lights to the castle 
in the sky, that place over the mountain, across the river just 
beyond the sunset, just beyond their fingertips The New Jerusalem 

It had always been there, the last place they were
always in grasp for those wise enough to rest
to listen to the whispered voice inside  
heard clear and crisp, the end of the quest
for those who listen to the still

   - Dan Reed England

The Lover (III) or Circe’s Letter to Odysseus
   Inspiration for artist Paula Eckerty's painting "Circe's Grief"

      Come away with me, he said, we will live on a desert island.
      I said, I am a desert island. It was not what he had in mind. 

I miss you,

Foolish, striving old man.

Your ship has left my harbor.

Though I batten my doors

‘gainst your return,

You roam my wild spaces:

fallow fields,

red cedar forests,

roiling waters.

Once you sought my suckling pig,

But drinking there was reminiscent of your crew,

wet snouts delving windward sand.

Once I was yours. Once

I could slake your yearning.

Now I wander my shore alone,

Aching for your passion,

While you find harbor in Penelope’s embrace.

   - Holly Lee McEntyre

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Circe's Grief   by Paula Eckerty   ArtPoems 2016
Decadent Dance   by Jonas Stirner   ArtPoems 2016
Je Me Souviens
   Inspired by artist Jonas Stirner's "Decadent Dance"

This place was once alive, bustling—
a beehive of activity with hundreds,
maybe thousands producing something of value,
something now fallen out of favor, or perhaps
it was the workers who fell out of favor.

Either way, what was is no more.
Foundations whose buildings are rubble:
mountains of brick, broken glass and boundless weeds,
rusty rails crisscross soil too toxic,
too dangerous for another hive.

Now, fading flower, you are abandoned
on the edge of another hapless brown field—
final remnant of verdant ornamentals,
that island in an endless tarmac sea.
Now, you are nothing.

But once, to someone,
you were everything.

   - Larry Stiles

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