https://www.artic.edu/artworks/16568/water-lilies by Claude Monet
Michigan Water Lilies by Rachel Ashcraft
The water lilies are not the ones by Monet, I’ve seen hanging in the museum Covered in glass made only to glimmer by the reflective light, fingerprint smudged as if someone thought to reach in and pluck one - pull it up and out of the water, attached to the silt like an umbilical cord The ones I hold are real in a small dirtied dammed pond on a capsized canoe And we break the pads from their stems and cut the stems from the silt And we think that to drink the water through the stems will take out all the bacteria And it tastes likes fish scales and the scent of snakes, And I know you’re lying when you tell me we’re survivalists And the sun catches you and I think of drinking milkshakes in Santa Claus, Indiana with you And I pretend this lily-straw we’ve made, because you’ve watched too much Crocodile Hunter, is made of paper and the water is chocolate and I don’t think of all the little things that call it home. I don’t think of that at all. Twitter: @RachCraftsTales A Letter to Monet by Kevin DeLaney you're supposed to feel things behind beauty there is supposed to be pain. but when I look at you I feel nothing. I don't feel weight. I don't feel broken or any sort of sad. I don't even feel thankful. I don't feel like fucking or any sort of heat. I hardly feel strange. when I read you, I am coherent and I can remember my own name, and that is not supposed to happen. I should feel some sense of death, and I feel none but sincerely, there is no shame... it's not you, it's me at least your work is pretty. Twitter: @kpdela The Pond of Life by Vipanjeet Kaur A dream-like pond mirrors Life like a glass painting: A microcosm of the cosmos and of human life; An image of the illusive world; A dark water palate reflecting loneliness of Life where mix, merge and emerge coloured dreams of Life – The turquoise of the sky and silver grey of clouds painting the centre, The tree top olives colouring its bankless margins; A backdrop for unfolding the play of Life – Enacted in the foreground by Water lilies-red, pink and white- The majestic aquatic autumn beauties Shining like stars and fireflies, Twinkling, illuminating and dotting the dull sky-like surface. Standing upright with slender stalks on the circular plates of green leaves after shedding impurities of Life; Emerging immaculately from the mud of life; Dreaming of rebirth and resurgence; Deep in meditation or sleep within their enclosed petals like souls seeking redemption. Opening the cup of petals at night, like seekers awakening from trances bearing the enlightened light and effulgence of moonlight, and worthy of partaking nectar of purity, They bloom and embalm the darkness of night giving wholeness to the transient Life. Bio: Ms. Vipanjeet Kaur from India is a poet fond of writing poems on various themes like nature, women empowerment, self, spiritualism and life. Her haikus have been featured in the international online journals like Haiku Dialogue of The Haiku Foundation, The Haiku Pond, The Cold Moon Journal and the Scarlet Dragonfly Journal and her micropoetry has been published in the Five Fleas (Itchy Poetry). She has also read research papers on the topics of Literature, Human Rights and Women Empowerment in a few national seminars and international conferences. She can be followed on Twitter @vjpoeticmusings. wordpress website: https://vjpoeticmusings.com An Impressionist's Perspective by Pasithea Chan Who needs an eye when holding a brush with a heart full of love to paint beauty? Why reminisce beauty when you can witness- love’s purity and experience its peaceful bliss? You don’t have to be Hercules’- Amalfi to understand a lover’s agony- or sympathize with Melite’s envy. Death does not distinguish between lament for lovers or unrequited love. Only an impressionist seeks clarity to be free from a sky that pulls aspirations with memory. His brush pulls lives into a scene with sentiments. Only a cataract eye overridden by artistic mentality leaves out trees’ shadows haunting reflections. that haunt lovers’ souls before waters. The pond’s waters pulled Monet with its lilies- pulling the river from rushing back. His brush joined them in their colorful strokes to sing life’s it is what it is peacefully. Today he invites thee to be like him free of interpretations held in minds & simile. Monet’s Water Lilies’ Pond shuts down a sky crowded with echoes of lost wishes and goodbye. Let its blue hues carry you on its lilies’ tunes to where Alice lives on with your impressions on the beauty of living in the present. A Poetry Showcase with Pasithea Chan (September 2022) Changing Light on Water by Louise Longson "Colours pursue me like a constant worry. They even worry me in my sleep." (Claude Monet, December 1914) A cold brush of sleet stipples the windows with sound, tapping in the grey-rose dawn. A dream- jumbled code of unsolved impressions lays wresting, half-forgotten on the tip of my vision, hesitating like a horse refusing to jump. Broken now into blurred, incoherent shades, the cool-blue world seems far away, far from familiar; increasingly coloured in red and sepia tones, even as the winter-soft yellow light washes over the waking day Bio: A qualified psychotherapist, Louise Longson works remotely from her home in a small village for a charity that offers a listening service to people whose physical and emotional distress is caused by loneliness and historic trauma. Not having to go into the office since the start of the pandemic in 2020(a 2 hour plus round trip) allowed her the time and headspace to write. She has since been widely published in print and online. She is the author of the chapbooks Hanging Fire (Dreich Publications, 2021) and Songs from the Witch Bottle; cytoplasmic variations (Alien Buddha Press, 2022). Her poems contain themes of trauma, abuse, loneliness, grief and loss, seen through the twin prisms of myth and nature. Monet With Water Passes By Me by Maid Čorbić I am unaware again that my life has no more ravages only my hopes still stand to be an old man and to strive for my dreams I know I have to be so strong. because the meaning of life for me is to save myself from hell and that every day I strive just to be all that I am and am not I know that my fate hangs in the balance. but that monet has become all to me. because without him I am nobody and nothing. and I have to make all my wishes come true. while my body swirled at the bottom and I am ready to sign my agreement as long as the soul is still looking for its own sea because without him I became an ordinary man, a desire for direction and a goal that has become irrelevant all because of the children's black game! Bio: Maid Corbic from Tuzla, 22 years old. In his spare time he writes poetry that repeatedly praised as well as rewarded. He also selflessly helps others around him, and he is moderator of the World Literature Forum WLFPH (World Literature Forum Peace and Humanity) for humanity and peace in the world in Bhutan. The Lilies by Thasia Anne Lunger The Lilie's never give up They float and bloom They refuse to go under The lilie's have learned how to stay calm and persevere A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Thasia Anne Lunger Monet/Hockney haiku by Ivor Daniel I am so seduced by your water lilies I take my glasses off squint and look deeper. More like water lilies than actual lilies like Hockney’s big splash pools look more like swimming pools than swimming pools do. Inspired by Bob Dylan poetry by Ivor Daniel Blue Moon by Marianne Tefft Blue Moon appeared in the Spring 2022 issue of Literary Cocktail Magazine in May 2022. You splashed your watercolors Across my stony heart Like Monet in his garden You made me your work of art With perfect lines and sketches You knew just where to start By sunrise I was dreaming We’d never be apart All your shades and shadows Painted pictures in my mind A brilliant fairytale that came Once upon a time Never-ending rainbows Telling stories line by line By sunset I was dreaming Of our Technicolor night Like chalk dust on a rainy street Love slipped through our frame No dashing knight to count on No pot of gold to claim No longer close by my side You still come now and then The album in my mind’s eye Tells me where and when I’ll see you again Blue Moon Water Lilies Ballet by Jacqueline P. Dempsey-Cohen A frolic of dustlight a merriment of sunlight slowly deliquesce into arabesques of color violet shimmer, cobalt gleam cadmium yellow, viridian green tonal mist glimmers the air a playful pirouette of pigment sending sense of sunlight asunder Yet below, quiet wonder, a muted requiem of hue cobalt swirls with palest blue vermillion fades to rose A delicate dance in shadowed depths Sunlight plundered. twitter @boscoedempsey A Monet haiku and monoku by Lev Hart #1 sunny afternoon painting the light within Water Lilies #2 art gallery visitors lost amid Water Lilies bio: Lev Hart, having lived on this planet for 69 years, is becoming impatient with the tardiness of his rescue ship. Meanwhile he has majored in English, worked with homeless people, moved to the Gulf of Aqaba, and returned to Canada. His beloved and he have been together almost forever. The Water Lilies in Claude Monet's Mind as I Feel Grave by David L O'Nan A whole, a dump, I worship in my sadness. To be a flower that is not dead in this dark room where my mind has shed. I feel like I cannot break any further as my body hits the water. Caution: the water is too cool. But it looks warm enough to me. A blue day reflects through the trees and my eyes obey the power of the water lilies. The fears begin to fade, although I have not moved from my internal shade. I have dreamt myself into a Garden, I have began to feel Giverny. You hear the echoed voices from outside from the unruly. Tune them out and swim in my friend! Your only true friend right now is the imagination and escape. I have deleted out the traumas of my past, my current, my midnight tremors. I have held the water lily in my hand and worshiped to the gods of art, of beauty. Repaired. In a sweet dream. Kidnapped away to the Water Gardens. A blink out of the trance. Neglected. The dream vanishes. I want back my Paradise. Another dream some other night....hopefully Monet will haunt me again. Two Haikus by Jessica Swafford 1) Pink water lilies gone - gasp as frog quickly leaps safe from my big foot (2) dragonflies gather quiet multitudes swarming water lilies gone A Super Deluxe Poetry Showcase from David L O’Nan (from several books pt 1) Current bio for Fevers of the Mind’s David L O’Nan editor/writing contributor to blog. Hard Rain Poetry: Forever Dylan Anthology available today! Available Now: Before I Turn Into Gold Inspired by Leonard Cohen Anthology by David L O’Nan & Contributors w/art by Geoffrey Wren Bare Bones Writings Issue 1 is out on Paperback and Kindle
Fevers of the Mind 