Robbi Nester Verse-Virtual 2016 August

August 2016

To all appearances, I inherited my poetic ability from my maternal great-uncle, the WWI British poet, Isaac Rosenberg. Rosenberg was a painter as well as a poet. While I didn't inherit his chops in visual art, I have always been drawn to ekphrastic poetry, writing about works of art, generally visual, but sometimes including other media as well. Following this inclination, I have completed a manuscript of ekphrastic collaborations with mostly visual artists, Together, which is now seeking a home. It contains about 76 pages, about 35 of which consist of mostly color plates. If you have any ideas about publishers who might be interested and who have the graphic know-how such a project entails, please let me know.

Author's Note: I wrote this poem for a member of my local poetry community who recently died, tragically, of cancer. She was quite young, and fought it as hard as she could, but it overcame her. The poem arose from a prompt I gave to a group of students to whom I gave a presentation on ekphrastic poetry. I always write to the prompts I give my students, when I am lucky enough to be in front of a group.

Late Summer in the Wheatfield
After Van Gogh’s Wheatfield with Cypresses
In memory of Cat McIntyre

He laid the paint so thickly on the canvas
it almost rustles, caught in a wind
that drives the curdled clouds like sheep
and sweeps the crows from trees
to harvest fallen grain and catch the chaff
in avid beaks. In one corner, a dark cypress
spirals to the sky, rising pyre,
reminding us that winter’s coming soon enough,
that every shaft will fall beneath the blade.

Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF