This was wonderful blogfest with so many exciting entries. Thrilling to host it.
Now it's time for the winner. Below you find the 10 best entries that included "art". All entries were great, but the nature of art is restricted. That's why we have only one winner:
The $20 voucher for CSNstores goes to:
Laura from Daily Dodo
Here is her entry:
Read this as if you are at my funeral
And faced with the crowd of mourning strangers
With tears in their eyes,
Hold in your mouth the art of their final memory
Read this as though we lie together,
And in the long summer grass I reach across
To hand you this scrap of love from my pocket.
And here are the nine secondary winners!
Music and art have always been a part of my writing. I listen to music to set mood, or just as background noise to block out all other distractions. I look at pictures or movie excerpts to set a character personality or scene setting.
“What is that?”
“A herd of horses racing through the plains.”
“Horses!? They look like a pack of mutant rats.”
“Hey, art is in the eye of the beholder.”
“That can’t be art in anybody’s eyes.”
“Picasso’s work was misunderstood in his time too.”
“Shh…Mrs Dempsey’s coming.”
“Keep working, boys. Adam, I love your horses. Great abstract art.”
drips ink form the art
of her heart as it spills
its questions into a book
she’s reading hoping
to gain a closer look
at the One who gives all
because He was and is
and is to come always
from the vast canvas
of His wisdom revealing
the passion of His cross–
true justice bleeding grace.
The art of brevity is a misnomer. The history of art spans a long stretch of time. And the range of variety within the arts is broad and as infinite as the mind will allow. How can art and brevity even be used side by side? How can a windbag like me expect to be brief? Me? Sixty words? Hmmph!
I look up at the deep blue sky,
covered in mountains till half,
I look inside the deep dark woods,
A Cow feeding it's Calf.
Then I take a drive out by the river,
What a clear reflection of a bullock cart!
Admit it, if you need inspiration,
Nature is the purest form of art.
My art is shy.
It lurks in the corners of a dusty brain...
Smiling to itself in that sly way.
Sometimes art takes a tumble to the other side
Just to see it's little shy friends.
They visit, compose...
And share those timid and colorful plans.
Then pop! And blurt!
Bursting out of the mind...
What can I do to help reach this goal?
Will my simple words tip the scales?
I am stepping up and helping out.
Do not want to be why this goal fails.
Without a picture or a prompt
My mind is blank and scrambling
My heart felt wish as words are read
I do not sound like I am rambling
“Keep the light on.”
He’ll never understand. “Because I’m afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?” His fingers rest on the switch. His eyes narrow.
“Of that.” I point at the canvas on the wall. His art.
“It’s a painting,” he says. “That’s all.”
“No it’s not. It’s evil.”
“Yes. Evil. Look at the eyes.”
He slips behind another's eyes, wends his way through exotic mazes of thought, dreams another's dreams, takes strange words into his mouth and expels them, whole yet somehow changed. He skulks about the perimeter, always watching, dissecting; taking them apart and cobbling them together into angels and monsters which only he can see. He is a voyeur. He loves art.