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Poets
 Artists
Jamilla D Brooks

Dan England

Joyce Berrian Ferrari

Christine Godwin

Sandy Greco

Mary Beth Lundgren
Holly McEntyre

Gary McLouth

Marilyn Mecca

Joe Pacheco

Sid Simon

Lorraine Walker Williams
Paul David Adamick

Honey Costa

Scott Guelcher

William Kramer

Claude Lyles

Lawrence Massing
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ArtPoems 2018 Gallery
Salon A
In The Caves of Chauvet 
   Inspiration for Honey Costa’s “The First Artist”

     The Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc Cave in the Ardèche
     Department of southern France contains
     some of the best-preserved cave paintings in  
     the world dating between 37,000 and 28,000
     years ago. 


Deep inside him
story swells
struggling so fiercely
to find its way
through the knots and loops
of his wakening brain.

In these indigo caves 
and flickering flames,
his fingers blindly meet
the cool clean 
Chauvet walls.
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  More ArtPoems: 

   within the 2018 Gallery ...

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Something he needs to do- 
there is no name for it yet, 
no alphabet or words.
So he dips down into
the smeared blood and mustard
flower mash,
places a tentative finger,
curves a fine line;

remembers the wild buffalo
and boar of yesterday's hunt;
adds haunches, tail,
splintery hooves,

and there it is:
his memory,
his first story,
himself.


   ~ Chris Godwin
Paddling with Dolphins: A Story Poem
   Inspired by Buck Ward’s “Paddling with Dolphins”


Grandma falls.
Walking across our living room, she takes a tumble.
I watch for concussion, bruises—

Nothing broken but her confidence.
Her spirits lag like canoes under the eaves.
I decide the only cure for this is kayaking.

Rising in pre-dawn, I wake her.
In the morning mist, we hook boats to bicycles,
Pedal to the Sound, twin ships bobbing in our wake.
We set off in cool air and warm water,
Trust our senses to guide us,
Sloshing waves and dripping paddles our companions.

Slowly, surely, we flow through the brine,
Breathe in tandem as we work toward wholeness—
Our sole destination.

Grandma gasps, loud, and I startle.
Turning about, I see her, safe behind me, 
Awash in the golden peach of dawn—

Paddling with dolphins.


   ~ Holly L. McEntyre

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The First Artist   by Honey Costa   ArtPoems 2018
Paddling with Dolphins   by Buck Ward   ArtPoems 2018
Villanelle of the Senior Tennis Round Robin
   Inspiration for William Kramer’s “Dust and Clay”

Returning each morning to dust and clay
We brave the ibuprophened shore
To beat oblivion one more day.

On court number one we start the fray
Not waiting for Time to settle the score,
Returning each morning to dust and clay.

Life’s easy volleys all put away,
Above the waist-high net we soar
To beat oblivion one more day.

We spin and slice to dupe our prey
With chips and drops and lobs galore,
Returning each morning to dust and clay;

No ace or smash to ease our way,
But rallies longer than ever before
To beat oblivion one more day.

So toward the final court we’ll play
Tomorrow and forevermore,
Returning each morning to dust and clay
To beat oblivion one more day.


   ~ Joseph Pacheco

Dust and Clay   by William Kramer   ArtPoems 2018
The Last Woman on Earth Works Her Magic
   Inspired by Lawrence Massing’s “Circadian Rhythm Continuum”

The scent of rain
hangs heavy
on this empty 
smoldering sphere.
Silence fills the air;
it echoes memories
of what had been,
of what is lost.
A mournful moon 
hovers,
waits, watches.

Now is the time.
The rain falls like tears
relieved of grief. 
I wander and search
for clues.

From my gris gris bag
I toss my alchemy 
on ashy sand.
Dead brush
      Brown twigs
      Dry leaf
detritus of war:
      A sign
      A circle
on Earth vanquished by man.

Ghosts of life leave designs:
A continuum
      A sign
      A circle

Like a golden halo 
the sun, a blazing orb
rises.
Hope emerges 
From my bag of magic.


   ~ Joyce Berrian Ferrari

Circadiam Rhythm Continuum   by Lawrence Massing   ArtPoems 2018
Wilding
   Inspiration for Scott Guelcher’s “Wilding Memories”

Swinging on a fence
drunk on the grand ecstasy 
Head thrown back laughing
drunk on splendors of being
glorious nine year old boys

Zooming from one laugh
to another, back again
Cartwheels, back flips, jumps
Pirates fencing with sticks
Beautiful laughter, pure glee

Brown forms lithe, limber
Uproars blasted in Patois
shouts for sheer pleasure
shouts over wild and frantic
barking from one boy’s mongrel

The dog back and forth
tail semaphores his mad glee
He must find the place
the place with the greatest fun
That Illusion moving always

Dusk glows, unwelcomed
Mothers arrive in housecoats
greeting their neighbors
Calling home their warriors
shouting down cries of protest

Please, it’s not dark
We need just ten minutes more
just five minutes more
I promise I’ll do my homework
I’ll even wash the dishes

Just five minutes more
Five more minutes of freedom
Five minutes to run
climb, chase, laugh, roll on the ground
Drunk on being a nine year old boy


   ~ Dan Reed England
Wilding Memories   by Scott Guelcher   ArtPoems 2018
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Barns
   Inspired by Barbara Gage Mulford’s “Northern Maine Barn”

Why do I feel longing when I pass 
a weathered barn along the road?
A barn with the sweet straw smell 
of summer and scarred red boards
tucked into a field where horses 
graze and children climb split-rail 
fences close enough to lean and
touch the horse’s mane.

When I wander country roads 
with nowhere special to go and 
happen upon an abandoned barn,
I want to gaze awhile at the 
gray patina, once dressed red,
the splintered boards, some still 
hanging, and the jagged hole 
in the roof that lets birds in.

Doors unlatched, one can almost 
smell the animals once housed 
in stalls, cats curled asleep 
on sultry afternoons, and imagine 
the glint of pitchforks above bales 
of hay, and know a community 
where neighbors came together 
to build a barn. 

Perhaps an abandoned barn is 
a vision of the past disappearing 
a little each season as it ages—
Barns slick with rain, framed in 
autumn leaves or blanketed with 
snow echo in the distant laughter 
of children flopping on hay, 
piled high after harvest. 

   ~Lorraine Walker Williams

Northern Maine Barn   by Barbara Gage Mulford   ArtPoems 2018