My poems didn’t make the Ekphrastic cut again. You can read the ones that did here.
This is one of the poems I submitted for the Henry Ossawa Tanner challenge.
Where waves rise to meet storm clouds,
the lowering sky drops among black rocks,
and between is the place where life is forged.
Between the hammer and the anvil,
the red hot stuff is quenched and shaped
where waves rise to meet storm clouds
and last year’s promises are cast on the wind
with the broken packaging of dreams.
The lowering sky drops among black rocks
the complacency of sleek health and wealth,
yet here on the edge, raw and real, in the crucible of cold stars,
between light and dark, is where life is forged.