Original Poetry Forums

THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

08-23-2009 at 11:21:22 PM

THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

I have a pictorial challenge for you folks.
I don't have a website yet to be able to post a picture for you to go by, but if you visit the pictures field on my profile page - please note the drawing with the name - "The Story" I'm thinking that it would offer a substantial incentive for a poem. I know I'll be making one on it myself. I'd be very interested to hear what the story looks like as it speaks to you.
When I drew it, nothing in particular came to me by way of explanation.

Check out - The Story here;

http://www.flickr.com/photos/neville_park/?saved=1 cheese

Last edited by NevillePark 08-29-2009 at 03:18:35 PM

08-26-2009 at 09:42:11 PM
  • WatashLegend
  • WatashLegend
  • Posts: 67

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

I have written something about the picture but not so sure I can call it a poem yet lol after I go through the revision process I will post it

08-29-2009 at 03:21:22 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

You're the writer, so I would take artistic license to call it what suits you.

Thank you for being my friend.

08-30-2009 at 08:29:52 PM
  • WatashLegend
  • WatashLegend
  • Posts: 67

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

alright Neville here is my submission to your challenge I think free verse would best fit the style

The price you pay to play

the hurts taken its toll
she has become ice cold
hardened a-la tree bark
the rose struggles to bloom
he has forsaken again
behind his smirk are lies
he should be ashamed
hurting worse then she is
the color in his face
tells a different story
bright like colorful tulips
beaming like rays of sun
vibrant colors surround
rainbow rainbow go away
let the rain come and play
she says with a pained voice
today is judgment day
as the skies awaken
and the ferns come alive
they coil like a snake
around this mans legs
pulling him in the soil
leaving only his head
on the outskirts of ground
gone are the vibrant colors
now a greenish yellow
decaying slowly brown
take this as a lesson
woman's scorn has last laugh

08-30-2009 at 11:02:34 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Well Mr. Legend - an interesting flow of happenstance. The purists in the crowd would advise you to drop as many prepositions as the work would allow while still maintain the meaning.
Free verse being free enough to interpret. I won't complain too much. It's not my strength.
I appreciate your offering. smile

09-01-2009 at 01:40:49 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Past Regrets


His eyes were distant
As his mind wandered to that place
That place he rarely visited
Yet here he was today.
The spot where his friend died
In a storm of agony and blood
As he watched from afar
He felt a frightening flood
Of all the emotion
That was threatening to break loose
His friend was now dead
What was he to do?
There was one thing, yes
One thing he had to do today
He remembered her tears
As she turned her head
Trying not hear
The words he had to say.
Her skin turned pale
Like that of a ghost
This is what he had feared
This above all, the most.
She said not a word
As she turned away
For her mind had accepted
What he had come to say.
That her lover was dead
She would see him no more
And with a weary sigh
She softly closed the door.

09-02-2009 at 03:22:46 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Wow! That was emotionally charged! I felt the tears out there somewhere. A wonderful interpretation with a sad outcome. Thanks for giving. grin

09-02-2009 at 10:34:47 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Wow, sad but what a wonderful interpretation. I especially loved the reference to her paleness and felt the poem did the painting justice.

09-02-2009 at 10:36:57 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Here is my submission.

THE STORY
(Deborah Taylor)

He stared in disbelief
As he watched the woman weep
The apple lay with two bites taken from
Their sorrow knew no bounds
As the serpent coiled round
Smiling at the battle he thought he’d won

The couple ran and hid
As their Master softly bid
Why do you hide my child
Because we are uncovered
And have betrayed our Lord, our Lover
We are naked, dying and defiled

In this garden held most sacred
Who told you that you’re naked
And why did you believe the evil one
You had life beyond perfection
Yet you chose deceitful beckon
And the price that’s paid will be my Son

The mention of God’s own
Caused the evil one to moan
He trembled as he realized he had lost
Mankind would be redeemed
From deaths’ sting they would be freed
The blood of Christ would be the cost

Satan slithered to the ground
With a twisted laugh and frown
The poison rescued from his bite
And with perfect love’s true fashion
Sprung forth the Rose of Sharon
A Savior, the Truth, The Light

09-03-2009 at 01:04:07 AM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Mrs. Taylor ...You truly put a smile on my face with that "truthy" literary rendering. My inner man rejoices. That's a Story that seems like it belongs but my picture is somewhat inadequate to the task.

Makes me think about replacing my avatar with a happier one. I'm beginning to look a bit dower these days the more I see myself. gulp

09-03-2009 at 10:22:10 AM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

I truly saw that in the painting. The man with a lost and bewildered kind of look, the woman pale, frightened with both of them trying to camoflouge themselves within the tree which I took to be the tree of knowledge. The painfully laughing entity trying to raise itself from the pit but not quite making it. Anyway, I loved trying to find my own interpretation for the piece.

BTW, your avatar looks a bit introspective to me not dower. smile

09-04-2009 at 11:44:13 PM

Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

WOW!!! This truly captures the artwork. What an awesome write. - deborah kiss

09-05-2009 at 10:24:00 AM

Re: Re: Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Quote:
Originally Posted by RHPeat

Originally Posted by ladysingsjazzz

WOW!!! This truly captures the artwork. What an awesome write. - deborah kiss


Thank you "Ladysingsjazzz" I think this was a very difficult image to write from. It's all over the place as far as an image goes. I do a lot of ekphrasis poetry. That is art derived from other art. I think a better place to find images to write from are on a site called "paintings I love" (http://www.paintingsilove.com/) They have everything from abstracts to naturalism by fine artists from all over the world. You might want to take a look at it if you are interested in ekphrasis poetry; try it out. Of course you might run into some of my painting there as well. I've written several poems from paintings and drawing that are on that site. Artist that I've got to know. I do think however that Neville had a grand idea for making a challenge using an image. I love ekphrasis poetry, art giving rise to other art. You can even use, music, drama, dance, theater, etc. Any other form of art can be an inspiration for a poem. I think you can actually slide a image into the page. I saw some here on another board at one time. But I've never been able to find it again.

a poet artist friend
RH Peat



Well thank you again. While I have written poetry or a story based on another art form I had no idea what it was called. Most of the time I am on the other side of the coin painitng something inpsired by a write. Poetry is kinda new for me as I am more a lyracist having made my living a good portion of my life in that genre. DT

09-08-2009 at 10:58:17 PM

Re: Re: THE STORY ... not mine , yours!

Quote:
Originally Posted by RHPeat

In That Dream

In a sunny dream my mother
speaks to me as a tree trunk
embraced by airy ivy vines.

She says: “remember the lost
child inside your heart, your seed
softly laid in the violet shadows.”

But I’m buried so deep inside
the hard earth like a forgotten root
I wriggle, struggle to survive.

I long to force my head up
above the ground, to sprout
in upward thrust and thrive.

I long to lift my body beyond
the mound I’ve built for sorrow’s
shouted leaves in wilted disbelief.

I long to be that firmer stem
that’s budded out to become
what holds the rose’s fuller cup.

The full-bloomed cost in sunlight
worn like thread-bare clothes
for that endless loss, like her eyes.

---notes-------
© RH Peat 9/4/09 3:01pm
Form: 7 tercets, 21 lines
Ekphrasis poem: Drawing called “the story”
On net uploaded 8/29/09 by Richard J. Bates


Where the heck have I been? Sorry my friend for ignoring you. You've got a wonderful contribution here. I agree that it's not the best arrangement of images. In hindsight I believe the best image to work with is one where not too much is told in diagram form but perhaps something with subtly, or inference where the writer can fill in the blanks and not have a visual script to make him look like he's connecting dots. A poet shouldn't be confined. shock blank stare

P.S.
You however seemed to have worked around that limitation and done a fine job of it.

Last edited by NevillePark 09-08-2009 at 11:00:58 PM

Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.