Ekphrastic Challenge

January 19, 2023

“The Room as We See It” by Andrew PaytonPosted by

Unsatisfied Externals by J. Stormer, etching of a room in still life in green and yellow, with a square section in black and white suggesting a different time

Image: “Unsatisfied Externals” by J. Stormer. “The Room as We See It” was written by Andrew Payton for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, December 2022, and selected as the Artist’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Andrew Payton

THE ROOM AS WE SEE IT

In the memory of the room
we find a doorway
to seeing the room as it is,
as we had left it.
 
We find a doorway
framed in revisions,
as we had left it
open to correction.
 
Framed in revisions
we accept what shadows
open to correction
in the light show of sleep.
 
We accept the shadows
outside the photograph.
In the light show of sleep,
sunlight is liberated.
 
Outside the photograph
we dress the room in color.
Sunlight is liberated
through a window opened.
 
We dress the room in color,
in the memory of the room.
Through a window opened
to seeing the room as it is.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
December 2022, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, J. Stormer: “I am astounded by the variety of thoughts and emotions that my print inspired in the poems submitted to this challenge. It was especially interesting to see what details others found compelling. Although there are a few poets and poems I have appreciated over the years, I have never formally studied poetry, or any form of literature. So, my choice is entirely subjective without reference to any criterion other than resonance with my personal and idiosyncratic feelings. All the poems I saw were interesting, and there were several that made choosing a single poem almost impossible. I think poetry is really meant to be heard, so I read the poems aloud to myself, and the way the poems sounded to me was also important in the final choice. This print is unique in my mostly representational body of work. It was inspired by a vague memory of things seen when I was too young (according to the experts) to have memories. Perhaps this was a dream then. The central etching was done first, but did not catch the feeling of the memory as I experienced it. Many months later, experimenting with colographs, I came up with the outer, more abstract part of the image, which to me suggests the dreamlike state. This poem, for me, captures the idea of of things seen with incomplete remembrance and subject to mental revision.”

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December 29, 2022

“Old Testament Family Tree” by Kid KassidyPosted by

Humid by Joshua Eric Williams, black, gray, and white drawing of scribbles resolving into what appears to be a single large tree

Image: “Humid” by Joshua Eric Williams. “Old Testament Family Tree” was written by Kid Kassidy for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2022, and selected as the Artist’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Kid Kassidy

OLD TESTAMENT FAMILY TREE

You know you got yourself a rotten fruit when that thing ain’t even seven years old
Lookin’ on up at you with spooky old eyes, wine bottle glass green like her no-good mama,
Mouth like she drank the whole damn thing.
 
What’s your rotgut instinct tellin’ you to do—
Take the thing out back with your god’s own shotgun?
Or—but what kinda god would ask you to pimp Issac out like that?
 
Well, your god eats it up with a knife and fork
Hootin’ and hollerin’ with his big, grabby hands:
Moriah! Moriah! Virgin on a Mountaintop!
 
But of course the angels, always with the angels,
And now you gotta live with this thing crawling around in your walls,
Reborn from the sons of God and daughters of Man,
Half-sexed and stronger than you, now, that same wild mouth and dark eyes,
A new crazy, angry bite that’s got you sayin’ what was said approximate to you:
Better watch yourself, girl, end up out on your ass!
 
She laughs. No one ever warned you they laugh.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
November 2022, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, Joshua Eric Williams: “I chose ‘Old Testament Family Tree’ because the poet captures the complicated atmosphere of the image with a voice that is not merely conflicted at the surface but is also troubled into searching every confusing layer of disappointment, faith, and doubt without a need to resolve these things, which allows the voice to take on humor as well as withering social commentary alongside sincerity, making the persona even more nuanced and believable.”

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December 22, 2022

“In a Moment” by J. A. LaganaPosted by

Humid by Joshua Eric Williams, black, gray, and white drawing of scribbles resolving into what appears to be a single large tree

Image: “Humid” by Joshua Eric Williams. “In a Moment” was written by J. A. Lagana for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, November 2022, and selected as the Editor’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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J. A. Lagana

IN A MOMENT

any outdated certainty runs weak
like a walker’s grasp
as the dog,
a greyhound or maybe the more reliable
retriever,      momentarily splits       & in that second
of letting go
heads toward the muddied field
with little consideration
of whether it is best to stay       or to (momentarily) flee.
 
Oh muddied footprints.
Oh round circular trees.       Such beauty
& freedom.       Such feeling.       In one split-second
the charcoal spread of morning,
the way a day leans toward grey.
Ribbon       -swirl along illuminated horizon.
What comes afterwards
is anybody’s guess.
 
The pause
a mid-point.
 
Consider how a life might play out.
 
What is constant
in a moment?
 
A tree, the cement & tangle, the ability to let go.
Storm & swivel & stream & doubt,
scribble of ribbons, no bungle or reassurance—
imagine       the       self,
you—     rooted, blossoming.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
November 2022, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Megan O’Reilly: “It’s difficult to capture a sense of motion, of momentum, with only words, and J. A. Lagana does it so effectively here, giving the reader the feeling of being right there in the ‘charcoal spread of morning,’ experiencing ‘the cement & tangle, the ability to let go.’ Joshua Eric Williams’ image strikes me as expressing both movement and stillness, and ‘In a Moment’ reflects that contrast. The tone of the poem, and the artwork, is perfectly summed up in its succinct and gorgeous last line–‘you–     rooted, blossoming.’”

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November 29, 2022

“Wingspan” by Christopher ShipmanPosted by

Take Heart by René Bohnen, abstract watercolor painting of two figures above pine trees

Image: “Ballet Above the Bay” by René Bohnen. “Wingspan” was written by Christopher Shipman for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2022, and selected as the Editor’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Christopher Shipman

WINGSPAN

We decided it was time.
After three years in North Carolina
we booked an Airbnb
dubbed “The Bird’s Nest”
in a little mountain town outside Asheville.
We’d gone to the Biltmore.
A brewery with a Putt-Putt course.
Strolled downtown shops.
Had dinner at a local pizza haunt.
Then on the last night, our daughter, sprawled
in the Bird’s Nest’s
only bed, plate of leftover pizza
balanced on her lap, asked the number of days
she’s been alive. Like a good
21st century father, I used Google
to calculate the days
from birth to Bird’s Nest.
And there nested in the newsfeed, where, let’s
face it, tragedy lives
beyond itself, I read a headline
that celebrated a father’s use of Google
to save his child’s life
when a heart attack nearly killed him.
When his heart broke
the article says, before it spills into confessing
the subsequent promise of love
whispered nightly
that provided the child the chance to tell
his parents who he really is—
a gay West African teen
marching unseen to the pulpit decades of days.
Driving home to Greensboro
mist is a religion spanning
the mountains—an obfuscation of angels
holding hands wing to wing.
There’s a heart inside it.
A kind of breaking. A kind of aching
to be seen. Like the moment
a child asks how long
they’ve been alive. Our daughter
has been alive 2818 days—one more
than this time yesterday.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2022, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Megan O’Reilly: “There are some wonderful turns of phrase in Christopher Shipman’s ‘Wingspan’ that caught my attention—‘from birth to Bird’s Nest / and there nested in the newsfeed …’—but what struck me most was the way the emotion of the poem captured the feelings René Bohnen’s painting ‘Ballet Above the Bay’ evokes. I sense a tension between past and future in both pieces, and a complex but unbreakable human connection, like the one between parent and child. ‘Theres a heart inside it,’ Shipman writes, and I can say the same about this poem.”

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November 24, 2022

“Fault Lines” by Margaret MalochlebPosted by

Take Heart by Bonnie Riedinger, abstract watercolor painting of two figures above pine trees

Image: “Ballet Above the Bay” by René Bohnen. “Fault Lines” was written by Margaret Malochleb for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, October 2022, and selected as the Artist’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Margaret Malochleb

FAULT LINES

To negotiate the terrain
of devotion’s darker
questions, we set out
in search of knowledge
buried inside the mountain.
Together we climbed
the treacherous path
littered with thistle,
bindweed, cheatgrass.
Held out our hands
to pull each other up
to the next outcropping.
And as we tended
our hunger, our thirst,
our need for rest,
the mountain watched,
held its breath
and waited for us
to look down and see
that the unwritten history
inside every living thing
is a borderless boundary
that can never be breached.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
October 2022, Artist’s Choice

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Comment from the artist, René Bohnen: “I had quite a job selecting a shortlist from the shortlist and eventually my favourite. In many of the poems I found beautiful imagery, as well as poignant moments and situations. I let the spirit and definitions of ekphrastic verse guide me in my final decision. I chose ‘Fault Lines’ as the poem which in my opinion amplifies and expands a core idea. The poet has cleverly used the different meanings of a geological concept to develop parallel perceptions in the reader’s mind. The poem becomes much more than mere description of the picture provided. Oxford Dictionaries offers this definition of fault lines: 1) a place where there is a long break in the rock that forms the surface of the earth and where earthquakes are more likely to happen, and 2) an issue that people disagree about and may, as a result, lead to conflict. Already in the first stanza we find the darker questions of devotion linked to the quest of going inside a mountain. Geology and emotional danger in association or perhaps juxtaposition, the reader has to read to find out. Judging technically, I enjoyed the sound effects in the poem. Without becoming clumsy or heavy, the little echoes, assonance and alliteration drive the action along. A line such as ‘littered with thistle’ tickles the mind’s eye and the poetic ear. In the last stanza, the b-alliteration (‘borderless boundary that can never be breached’) emphasises the profound wisdom that is presented as the poem’s closing viewpoint. Details and specifics anchor the narrative (‘bindweed, cheatgrass’) while also alluding to unpleasant situations or events between two people. The couple is hungry and thirsty, they pull each other up. They negotiate out croppings. This is no vague journey. The last stanza returns to the ‘mountain’ that appeared in stanza 1. The arching that is thus created echoes the shape of the arms in the artwork. The emotion of dismay, surprise, horror or despair that may be implied by the artwork, is subtly prompted by the openendedness of the last stanza, when the mountain waits for realization to dawn on the two tired people. I can write much more on this poem, but will leave the other readers the opportunity to analyse and enjoy an intricate poem that reads so effortlessly, one is initially mislead to think that it is simple.”

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October 31, 2022

“Fibers” by Ashley CaspermeyerPosted by

Take Heart by Bonnie Riedinger, abstract painting with blue on top and gold on bottom

Image: “Take Heart” by Bonnie Riedinger. “Fibers” was written by Ashley Caspermeyer for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, September 2022, and selected as the Editor’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Ashley Caspermeyer

FIBERS

Mustard.
My silk dress.
My mother’s voice
tickles my memory.
You should have changed.
I’m a crack in the sidewalk
noticed for the wrong reasons
avoided at the cost—
of ruining something beautiful.
Tackle the stain before it sets.
Blot out your mistake before
it seeps into the delicate fabric
of what you’re remembered for.
My fingers tremble at the task.
My cautious smear paints
the blue poppies in pollen,
penetrating their petals,
heavy with the weight
of living.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
September 2022, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Megan O’Reilly: “Both the craft and emotion of Bonnie Riedinger’s painting are delicately reflected in Ashley Caspermeyer’s ‘Fibers.’ As the painting ebbs and flows visually, the structure and music of the poem moves with it. The imagistic contrast of yellow and blue is beautifully suggested in lines like ‘ruining something beautiful’ and ‘petals/heavy.’ While each piece is strong on its own, together they create an elegant, resonant harmony.”

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September 29, 2022

“Haute Buttons” by Kenton K. YeePosted by

Worm by Enne Tesse, black and white drawing of a worm turning into a mushroom

Image: “Worm” by Enne Tesse. “Haute Buttons” was written by Kenton K. Yee for Rattle’s Ekphrastic Challenge, August 2022, and selected as the Editor’s Choice. (PDF / JPG)

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Kenton K. Yee

HAUTE BUTTONS

My mother ran her Singer past midnight.
I learned to tune out whirling.
Who knows why I’m telling you now.
In shadow. In chiaroscuro.
A rectangle’s infrequent beeping.
Its text that doesn’t say what it means.
We sew between choo-choos.
We sew and wash. We wash and change.
I had just changed to slacks when we were
what? I hope not just some fad
like sideways caps or capri pants.
What we are is not what we want to show,
or see. Some of us tire of the fabric
and others, the colors. Or the buckles.
And changing clothes—like coloring, or not
trimming, or affecting a new voice—is escape.
Whoosh! Bonk. Brown eggs.
Maybe I will be the same. At least I will be different.
Do you miss dancing me on nine threads?
My mother still sewed after retirement.
I’m sure that’s what you were going for.
The world teases us.
Old aggressions. New passivities. Sweatshops.
It’s all so fast and all too fast.
You wonder why I’m thinking of sewing
but I’m thinking of how we did not change.
You were my marionette. Prices are climbing again.
It was terrible. It’s beautiful.
Truth is I don’t want to stop sewing.
I can’t sew and I can’t stop sewing.
 

—from Ekphrastic Challenge
August 2022, Editor’s Choice

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Comment from the editor, Timothy Green: “It would have been easier to fixate on the surreal nature of the image, but Kenton took the metaphor deeper, exploring the threads of change itself. The poem moves freely through the layers of his mind, like the image moves through layers of transformation, stitching from memory something surprising and new.”

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