I am tying up all my love in this,
With all its hopes and fears,
With all its anguish and all its bliss,
And its hours as heavy as years.
— James Thomson
Art
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Category Archives: AI Art
Butterflies
蝶々や
夢うつつとは
知らずとも
Butterflies—
Be it dream or wakefulness?
They flit, unknowing.
— jujube
The Memory of the Young
The memory of the young is leap-by-leap.
It sweeps itself for clues to its song.
— Maria Hummel
“Five Chinese Verses”
Don’t speak to me of sorghum
Red fields, pressed up toward a sky
Whatever called to me there
Too wild, attempting a face
Old verses for my father
Dignify the cooling page
Black earth is the word it makes
Tilts forward, consequential
— Wendy Xu
Reflections
Like liquid shadows. The ice is thin
Whose mirror smears them as it intercepts
withdrawing colours; and where the crust,
as if a skin livid with tautening scars…
— by Charles Tomlinson
Solemn Traveling
It has been solemn traveling
A night and a day
This road running straightly northwards;
None went my way.
— Rosamund Dargan Thomson
Memorial Day
The morning may be brilliant; the season
is one of brilliances—sunlight through
the fountained willow behind us, its splayed
shadow spreading westward, our shadows westward,
irregular across damp grass, the close-set stones.
— Michael Anania
Cézanne
… nothing can
stop the truth of it art is all we
can say to reverse
the chain of events and make a pileup
of passion to match the stars
No choice but between
a certain variation
hard to perceive in a shade of blue
— by William Carlos Williams
The morning after / my death
Green was the forest drenched
with shadows
the roads were serpentine
A redwood tree stood
alone
with its lean and lit body
unable to follow the
cars that went by with
frenzy
a tree is always an immutable
traveller.
— by Etel Annan
Morning
Color is new upon each sunlit surface;
lifting lines are reimbursed with flight;
cool and level lie the planes of morning
covered with light.
— by Edith Henrich
Unusual Colors - Digital and AI art 