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Poets
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Jamilla D. Brooks

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Gary McLouth
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ArtPoems 2020 Gallery
Salon A
Homage To All The Hot Chicks In Art   by Brooke Anderson   ArtPoems 2020
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I am ...
    Inspired by Brooke Anderson’s “Homage to All the Hot Chicks in Art” 

           It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.  
                                                                              HENRY DAVID THOREAU

Family, friends and acquaintances 
paint whatever they want me to be.
I show whatever I want them to see.  

While my body poses, masquerades,
in ever-changing costumes, I hide 
in the crackles between the colors.

Even when naked, without artifice, 
I go unexposed for I am as different  
as the eyes holding the vision of me.

What my eyes hold is but a copy,
a reverse reflection of who I see. 
My original portrait hangs inside. 

I am ...

many to others, one to me.

    ~ Marilyn Mecca
Unraveling
    Inspiration for Babs Synderman’s, “A Watchful Eye”

Pay attention to the wisp 
of hanging thread on the hem 
or a loose button on slacks—
beginning the unraveling unnoticed 
until hem sags or button 
clicks on the floor or worse, is lost.

Seems like such a tiny thing, 
like air moved by a butterfly wing 
can build a breeze, become wind,  
toss trees or fan a fire’s loss.
Rain spills, soaks hills,
runs downstream, overflows,
destroys dreams.

So it seems in a relationship,
unraveling begins from within—
a word spoken or left unsaid, 
a heart broken, a turn of the head.
Missed cues accrue and a bond 
becomes undone.

Yet sun and tides will rise,
a wound heals then renews.
After roses bloom with stems cut,
a bud forms along with thorns,
unfurls, spills perfume, soon fills
the darkest heart with stars and moon 
unraveling into spring.

~ Lorraine Walker Williams
A Watchful Eye   by Babs Synderman   ArtPoems 2020
DOVE STREET
    Inspiration for Shah Hadjebi’s, “Dove Street”

Faces of the row houses
Through the window
Patient gray lines
The block’s one tree

The sky over the last tattered reaching out
I fell from last night

What is in the moment of losing the night
Sipping coffeeblackwordless
Unlit scarred roads

Who ate half the banana and left its darkening eye
Between us

Are you sorry I heard the first bird and do not know its name
One bird in one tree singing one steel song

How many stilled voices stain the dark lines
Inside my grandmother’s china pot

Twenty thousand dawns in anticipation of breaking
Her rouge flower frozen
Around a million gone cups

~ Gary McLouth​
Dove Street   by Shah Hadjebi   ArtPoems 2020
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Lingering Portal
    Inspired by Beth Feige’s, “Portal”

My hands- pushing, pushing… breaking through to tempting opposite side...
my soul irrepressibly succumbing- new world awaits.

Spending days not slowly capitulating to unacceptable truths.
Living in a time and place of utter utopia… a world filled with color
no black. no white. No murky shades in between.

Attempting to gain control of perplexing present reality in my mind… expanding
Tenderhearted greetings in refreshing air...
People of all races, religions, sexual orientation and genders coexisting harmonically
Where all humans are human- nothing more. nothing less.

Immersing into joy- is my soul...
Musical laughter- filling my ears-
Smiling eyes overtaking my sight line.
Poised steps creating sounds reverberating through divinity’s streets. 

Seeing through smiles- struggling- lack of comprehending my place.
Sacrificing- worries and anxieties I miss deeply;
Dawdling doubts- threatening my new world.

All remain in my memory- lingering portal holding captive my past.

~Carolina Solomon
Portal   by Beth Feige   ArtPoems 2020
Student Poets
Student Artists
Jaansi Parsa
Carolina Solomon
Adrian Cox
Elizabeth Feige
The Shackles of Our Minds
    Inspiration for Rebecca Sandbek’s, “Unfettered”

We lock up our creativity  
in the shackles of our minds. 
Getting and spending  
we accept the conformity  
that rends our senses blind.

We hoard our files and papers
of deposits and accounts,
stocks and bonds and IRAs.
Our bottom line:
add up the amounts.

Look to your numbers and decimals,
learn your Xs and Os.
Watch your real estate,
collect your rents,
invest in IPOs.

But
what if you want to 
write a play, 
compose a song,
create a poem?

But
what if you want to
annotate a dance,
make a film,
paint a picture?




To play in a system
with priorities wrong,
where arts are neglected
and dollars, not dreams,
are our country’s sweet song.

Lock up thoughts of arts,
throw away the key,
don’t give them precious dollars,
keep them at a distance,
don’t let them go free.

Money for new buildings,
money for new roads,
give millionaires more power,
let money buy our politics,
give profiteers new modes.

Brainwash all the youngsters,
feed them dollar signs,
bow them down to business
Keep the arts away
from their little minds.

Profit and more profit,
keep that to the fore
as the preferred way of living;
all the other endeavors
hold behind the door.

Stifle thoughts of wonder,
shut out the arts that bind,
avoid beliefs that change,
lock up imagination
in the shackles of your mind.

~ Robert Hilliard

Unfettered   by Rebecca Sandbek   ArtPoems 2020
Cha-Ching
    Inspiration for Scott Guelcher’s, “The End”

Misty shrouded endless vistas from time’s beginning… 
Kaleidoscopic tapestries of endless silent yesterdays.
Deeply rooted histories- Earth’s hushed secrets- 
Stored in ringed vaults of thick untouched bark.

Natural curves of Mother Nature; rites of passage-
Towering rocky walls shimmering…mercurial minerals. 
Sedimentary and volcanic maps permanently embedded-
Accounting elemental truths of watery fury and forever changing landscapes. 

Now, honking horns screeching below towering Wall Street corrupted structures- 
Trapped heat beneath concrete and asphalt- counting cents and dollars.
Slick oil- painted waters sick with stench of bloated fish floating-
Methane ozone holes hovering over permanently scarred topography.

The tick, tick, ticking of Father Time shudders under stars hidden
by fluorescent street lights. A child born of poverty wails with new life.
Silent sentinels sign death warrants with blood ink pens-
Species extinguished like fireflies at daybreak. Cha-ching. 

~ Holly Rose
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The End   by Scott Guelcher   ArtPoems 2020