Tree Line with Nancy Eckels @ Simple Sunday
Greetings Poets and Pals to a day of Poetry
As we meet once more for another
Simple Sunday.
We bring you again another great work of art for our
Poetic inspiration. Let us introduce you to
A modern and contemporary artist:
Nancy Eckels
California artist Nancy Eckels’ paintings mirror the joy
and energy she feels when creating works of
uninhibited color, movement and emotion.
Her mission is to make the viewer fall in love
with her paintings by sharing her emotions.
She draws them in and engulfs their experience
with feeling, whether it’s bold, in-your-face,
good will, exuberance and passion
or a more subtle introspective mood.
Her technique is highly improvisational,
painting off the top of her head
with little or no plan in place, using only
the emotion of the moment and the mental
pictures from her life’s experience. Many of her
collectors fall in love with her work,
because bold art reflects how they live their lives.
For more information and to view her gallery
Click on the link below:
http://www.nancyeckels.com/artist.html?id_nancy=521389847
We Are thrilled to present this art as today’s feature.
Please use just this art for our poetry.
Let us now bring you,
“Tree Line”
By Nancy Eckels
Let the sights of the Tree Line run off with your
Poetic imagination!
We’ve even included some music for your muse
To Enjoy!
~
I thank you for visiting and sharing with us here for
Simple Sunday!
Please leave us your Heart and comments!
Let us know if you Liked today’s art!
I’m looking forward to our time again
for sharing next week!
One Summer Dream
~Cynthia~
:love: :love:
Greetings Poets and Pals, I hope everyone finds today’s art and artist most intriguing and poetically inspiring. Nancy Eckels is a modern contemporary artist and I thought she would be a good change up from or more classic previous features. All her work is amazing, and her style very unique. I hope you enjoy her art as much as I do. So let your poetic imagination loose with her “Tree Line”!
Cynthia.
THE TREES LINES BETWEEN YOU AND ME
~^~
Along the way
Of travel
There be many
Lines of tree
Along the road side
Long lonely road
Many be dark as night
Even in day light
Just lookin though
The sun light flickers here and there
Makes it a wonder be
Just where does it ends
Long long rows of trees
I do so see
On the long lonely road
All between
The you and the me
Yet love concer all and
I wait patiently
For to see
Written By: Bettie Davis ——————– © November 1o , 2o12
:love: :love:
I finally got a chance to write my poem now that both children are asleep. Sigh…so quiet and peaceful now.
:love: :love: 😀
HILLFIRE
The scorched hillside beareth not
what the melted candle got.
Flame retardant neither was.
Quiet now, no earthly buzz.
Burned away all surface fuzz.
Love consummated then consumed.
All life just as the wax was doomed.
Moss and peat glowed the ground red
signifying all was dead
sanitizing nature’s bed.
The Devil’s Revel Juggernaut
erased the face of what was caught
in the path, a deadly swath
charred remains exuding goth.
Ashes float on wind like moth.
Only river had the power
to halt expansion of Death’s bower.
Final sizzling embers swept
by swollen rushing waters kept
as Mother Nature loudly wept.
Years of handiwork destroyed
by such heat as none enjoyed.
A lesson learned? So hard to tell.
Lifecycle au naturel,
or a taste of living Hell?
Inspired by the artpiece “Tree Line” by Nancy EckelS
Title and Text Copyright November 11th 2012 RGD
A WORM TO THE WISE
When they landed on Space Place Grotto
at first they thought they’d won the Lotto.
Atmosphere exhilarating;
attractive mutant worms for mating.
But the surface was deceiving.
There soon was Giant Redworm heaving.
The odor was so nauseating.
A big turnoff to Redworm dating.
But worst of all, they found in time,
were the lakes of grimy slime.
Irresistible to worms,
but so corrosive to their derms.
Redworm skins got even redder
which made worm dates even deader,
until invaders’ doom was sealed.
Their huge red bodies shown, congealed,
on slime lake surfaces afield.
The native worms were disappointed
no Prom queen would be anointed.
All their dates were too petrified
not scared to death, just dead inside.
Inspired by the artpiece “Tree Line” by Nancy Eckels
Title and Text Copyright November 11th 2012 RGD
RED DIRT HILL AND ME
~*~
Wooozys look at me
Oh just where had the time gone
On my way
I do stop and
Admire the clay
Red as the devil his self
Callin me name
Have to stop
Just to tease the dirt
Be there
White is right
Oh but the red
Says eat me I am the best
All peed out
By the critters
All about
Still that red hill calls to me
Tea sty I be
Not many grits
You will fine
Easy on the tongue
Silk and smooth goin down
Eat me eat me
I am so the best
Better than the white
It be just dirt
Not at all like me
You have to dig deep to fine white
I am lying here to be had
Red dirt be in me
I love the color
It be so bright and its callin my name
Just below the line of tree
I do so sit and eat
~*~
Written By: Bettie Davis ————————— © November 11 , 2o12
Desert Awakening
A river cuts deep through the prairie.
Some stunted mesquite inhabit bluffs above.
Finally to an arid heart
came the warm flow of your love.
I have viewed these hobbled trees
a hundred times before.
A place to be alone and free,
I am alone no more.
The red bluffs dropping to the water,
I have stood upon the edge
and stared across the open waste
surveying windblown bushes and backwater sedge.
The prairie is asleep no more.
The desert has been slaked.
Love made a nascent life feel sure.
This wasteland aflower has waked.
Tony Hansen
(c) November 11, 2012
Such a powerful painting to ponder today. Beautiful blog and wonderful challenge! I’ll be back later on to read and comment later on after I’ve worked on a piece. Hugs and Happy Sunday from Southern California. :love: :love: :love:
UNFOLDING
Upon this early morning,
rising up with the sun
over a tree-lined ridge,
the Dawn arrives
and a new day unfolds,
silence speaking
so loudly to me
within this scene
I can’t help but behold.
In somber voices,
from the ground underfoot,
overwhelming sadness
and tears understood,
a land broken-hearted
for all the blood
that’s been shed,
muted voices calling
with somber lessons
to be learned,
if only we would
pay attention
and listen
to what they said.
I strain to hear them,
yearning to know
the secrets beneath my feet,
so eloquently spoken
on this early morn.
compelled to stop
what I’m doing
and listen to their voice,
no mistaking it,
now so loud and clear.
And on this morning
I stand here in silence
as tears stream down,
the trees having shed
their delicate leaves
of auburn and gold,
November’s chill
permeating the air;
together anticipating anew
the land’s rebirth
and praying again
that peace will arrive
with the Spring.
(c) barbara kausteklis 11-11-12