Today’s poem is one I’ve never posted here before, although I did share a link to it when it was published in The Ekphrastic Review a year ago in January. It was written originally as an assignment for a creative writing class I took at the local university a few years ago, and it was the first piece I ever had accepted for publication.
It’s also the only ekphrastic poem I’ve written. In case you haven’t encountered the form before, an ekphrastic poem is one written about, or inspired by, a work of art. I enjoyed writing this one. It was interesting how quickly the story and voice flowed from the painting.
Some ekphrastic poetry tends to wax rhapsodic about a work of art, with lots of squishy, imprecise, flowery enthusing. Those poems set my teeth on edge and make my eye twitch. I’m particularly fond of ekphrases that employ a bit of humor, like U.A. Fanthorpe’s “Not My Best Side,” based on St. George and the Dragon, by Uccello. Or W. H. Auden’s thoughts on Landscape With The Fall of Icarus (Bruegel), in Musée Des Beaux Arts. (There’s a really great interactive piece on Auden’s poem at the NYTimes [gift link] if you’re interested.)
The reason I thought to post this poem this week is that I think we’re all likely in need of a bit of humor. I’m also thinking it’s a little silly that I haven’t written more ekphrastic pieces. Probably time for a wander at the museum.
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Not Looking Out to Sea, No Matter What Winslow Homer Says We were certainly not looking out to sea That should be obvious from the angle of our heads Besides, do we look like we’ve got either the time or the inclination to stand gawping at the horizon like a couple of tourists on holiday? If you must know, we were observing the pair of colossal idiots who’d allowed their half-witted selves to be stranded by the tide at the base of the cliff The rest of the men out earning an honest day’s wages while these two daft twits play at treasure hunting And not even proper treasure. No, this pair of credulous fools heard an old lie about a ship sunk with a hold full of rum and, after last week’s storm, they figured it might finally have broken up on the shoals and let the barrels wash up on shore Their careful calculations, undertaken as they were by a pair of numbskulls with no mathematical skills to speak of, led them here to a stretch of beach reached easily from the cove road at the ebb, but completely cut off when the tide is high. A fact known by all but these two worthless gits. You have to ask yourself at times like this if it might not be better for the sea to just take them. Truly, they might be our husbands but we’ve got no use for them. Mary wondered how they’d managed to lose their trousers. A fine question and a fair one. It’s true we might have thrown down a length of rope or alerted someone to their predicament. But with the tides as they are today, they won’t likely make it home before midnight. And if they happen to fall asleep, well then, it’s possible we might not see them before Wednesday
The Public Domain Poetry Project is into its fifth week. If you’re interested, there a link to this week’s post and prompt below.
Thanks for reading, everyone!
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