pretty pretty
have you ever had to read ekphrastic poems? I don't know if that's even the term, but I like some of them... they're like ones that describe paintings/pictures but have their own commentary.
example:
After the Attack
The sick boy
Locked in a vision
with toungue stiff as a horn.
He sits with his back toward the painting of a wheatfield.
The bandage around his jaw reminds him of an embalming.
His speactacles are think as a diver's. Nothing has any answer
and is sudden as a telepjone ringing in the night.
But the painting there. It is a landscape that makes one feel peaceful even though the wheat is a golden storm.
Blue, fiery blue sky and driving clouds. Beneath the yellow waves
some white shirts are sailing: threshers--they cast no shadow.
At the far end of the field a man seems to be looking this way. A broad hat leaves his face in shadow.
He seems to look at the dark shape of the room here, as though to help.
Gradually the painting begins to stretch and open behind the boy who is sick
and sunk in himself. It throws sparks and makes noise. Every wheathead throws off light as if to wake him up!
The other man-- in the wheat-- makes a sign.
He has come nearer.
No one notices it.
--Tomas Tranströmer
also, this is pretty, but unrelated:
Kanchenjunga. 1936, Nicolas Roerich
example:
After the Attack
The sick boy
Locked in a vision
with toungue stiff as a horn.
He sits with his back toward the painting of a wheatfield.
The bandage around his jaw reminds him of an embalming.
His speactacles are think as a diver's. Nothing has any answer
and is sudden as a telepjone ringing in the night.
But the painting there. It is a landscape that makes one feel peaceful even though the wheat is a golden storm.
Blue, fiery blue sky and driving clouds. Beneath the yellow waves
some white shirts are sailing: threshers--they cast no shadow.
At the far end of the field a man seems to be looking this way. A broad hat leaves his face in shadow.
He seems to look at the dark shape of the room here, as though to help.
Gradually the painting begins to stretch and open behind the boy who is sick
and sunk in himself. It throws sparks and makes noise. Every wheathead throws off light as if to wake him up!
The other man-- in the wheat-- makes a sign.
He has come nearer.
No one notices it.
--Tomas Tranströmer
also, this is pretty, but unrelated:
Kanchenjunga. 1936, Nicolas Roerich