Poem Up at The Ekphrastic Review ~&~ Mark Rothko Blues

My poem “the differences subtle” appears at Ekphrastic Writing Challenge Responses: Mark Rothko. It can be seen here, with other deserving reads. The painting “Untitled (Black on Red, 1957),” by Mark Rothko, is the inspiration for the challenge.  Once again, I’m fortunate to be on the same page as Kerfe Roig.
My thanks go to Lorette C. Luzajic, Editor at The Ekphrastic Review, for including my poem.

After submitting this, I read about the “Rothko” in a post by Paul Szlosek, and I decide to try the form. The “Rothko” was created by poet Bob Holman. Following Mark Rothko’s practice of using three distinct colors, it contains three lines, three words per line, in a tic-tac-toe pattern (horizontal, vertical, or diagonal) – written while standing in front of a Rothko painting (here, viewing the image).

Mark Rothko Blues

red heat surrounding
scarlet barely surviving
blackness consuming all

Ken G.

Image source: Tate – Untitled (Black on Red, 1957), by Mark Rothko



Before you turn away,
remember an island of two
walking amid a sea of people.

Before you turn away,
remember the music
that no one else could hear.

Before you turn away,
remember the waves
that washed over you.

Before you turn away,
remember the heart
that beats as one with yours.

Before you turn away,
ask yourself why
it would hurt so much.

The prompt for Tuesday Poetics: Lost in Translation from Laura at dVerse is to write a poem as an interpretation or impression of one of the three foreign poems (translated) that are offered. I have chosen “Two Bodies,” by Octavio Paz, shown here:

Two Bodies

Two bodies face to face
are at times two waves
and night is an ocean.

Two bodies face to face
are at times two stones
and night a desert.

Two bodies face to face
are at times two roots
laced into night.

Two bodies face to face
are at times two knives
and night strikes sparks.

Two bodies face to face
are two stars falling
in an empty sky.

Different Drummer ~ quadrille

Different Drummer

You hear the beat,
but do not follow,
your voice your own,
in a world where too many
let others speak without
questioning the merits
of a drumbeat too often
exclusionary, delusion
carried to extremes,
out of step with reality,
right to the end.

This is a response to Quadrille #85 – Raising our Poetic Voices, the prompt from De Jackson at dVerse, which is to use the word voice in a 44-word poem that does not require meter or rhyme.

Image source: YouTube (USC Trojan Marching Band performing “Tusk”)

the dawning of realization

the dawning of realization

like a heatwave dully reminding you
how much you dislike the heat,
the distance from true waves
on water more often blue than not

how you want to be there
not here, where more time is spent
indoors than out, whether allergies
or just the weather, but mostly

both, to be honest, as one front
meets another and sinuses respond,
pressing eyes that dully see a scene
that isn’t what you want to see

Approaching temps near 100 today, and a sinus headache
reminding me that thunderstorms are on the way.

Image source: NOAA – National Weather Service

Reflecting on Darkness ~ Reboot

It has come to my attention that my “prosery” posted on August 4th was flawed, in that my copy/paste into the editor resulted in the first paragraph being eliminated, while the second paragraph was duplicated.  Here is Reflecting on Darkness, as I wrote it.
Ken G.

Reflecting on Darkness

Within surrounding darkness, yet awake in the light of a near-yet-distant star, I gaze at a blue marble far beyond my reach. My loneliness tells me that I am the only one who appreciates the beauty it holds. Who else can there be? Is there any face beyond my own that has gazed outward?

And what of that darkness? Should I let it consume me? The light I cast may be a faint reflection, but it is here, always, the only shadows falling beneath the measured steps of men long gone, or cast by the occasional passing of that globe of beauty amid the darkness.

Perhaps that orb gazes towards me, the same questions crossing its mind as it ponders the darkness that surrounds us. Can there be more to this world, or that, than meets the eye?

I dreamt I was the moon.

Prosery is a form devised at dVerse, and the challenge is to write a piece of flash fiction with a 144-word limit. Included in the bit of prose is to be a complete line from a poem. With Prosery #2, the line to be included was “I dreamt I was the moon” from Alice Oswald’s “Full Moon.”

Image source: ©NASA (Earthrise)