Street Art: October 10-24, 2024
Take a picture or several pictures of street art you see around you this week. Write a short poem inspired by what you saw.
Due October 24 by 7:00 p.m.
The Submissions:
by Journal Kurtz
Ode to the Revisionist
When in my sensible shoes I walk,
invisible in my middle-agedness,
past the linguistic reminder that
even words speed on without me,
I toter on the brink of irrelevance.
“ALL” WHITE BOYS ARE “BAGS”
the screed declares, daring me to make
meaning. And though I recognize
the qualifying quotes as if the writer
hesitates, maybe not all white boys and
allows for the admittance of a term
freshly minted, I am mystified by “bags”
not uploaded to my outdated lexicon,
the smiley face further adding confusion.
But you, wielder of a super-sized sharpie,
swoop in to pen a revision that has me
nodding a knowing yes! I am familiar
with barf bags: humans who sometimes
embody vomit, sometimes give rise to it.
Like a semantic savior, you capitalize on
comprehension and secure connotation
so I may continue, assured, along my way.
by Heart of Darkness
ChatGPT Poem: An ode to hidden art
In Columbus’ hidden alleyway,
A burst of colors finds its play,
Swirls of orange, blue, and green,
A vibrant dance, a living dream.
Brush strokes whisper tales untold,
Of city hearts, both brave and bold,
Graffiti blooms where shadows rest,
An urban canvas, life expressed.
Beneath the sun, it sings alive,
A mural’s magic, art’s sweet drive,
In every hue, a story spun,
A symphony of joy begun.
by Anonymous Frau Redux
Time grew short. Missed many an opportunity to catch street art or tagged railroad cars passing in front of me. So the assignment is completed, but perhaps not in the intended manner.
Haiku to “street art”
Is that forty one?
What’s the saying- here’s your sign.
Maybe sixty one?
Confusing label?
The spray-person-ship is poor.
Caution- construction
Intersection here
Place sign sixty five on right
Stop, look and listen!
by Captain Quillard
Let us go for a walk, here
at the end of the world –
with magnolia and herbsaint
hanging humid in the Marigny air,
thick with the knowledge that
all is lost, but all is
just fine
right here in the here and now,
unlost in despair’s muddy waters
Let us go for a walk -
our cerulean skies cloudless
in defiance -
providing the necessary trouble
of recalcitrant light to penetrate
the pervasive and inevitable darkness
Our joy etched into concrete
with such grit
as to survive a century’s worth of
hurricane floodwaters
and the waning and waxing of
a thousand creole moons
Our color and music giving life
to the dilapidated structures
of the world, covering the rust
and ruin of what came before
and will come again
and again, as certain as death
and decay and our own
extinction, but
Let us go for a walk, here
at the end of all things,
having made better
what we could
when we could
if only for a little while
but indispensable just the same
Let us go for a walk, here
among technicolor shotgun homes
and a shotgun spray of warnings
of our own annihilation —
because as long as we are walking,
we can be certain we will die
on our feet
Next Week’s Assignment:
For Halloween, recreate a scene from your favorite scary movie, using whatever medium you like - draw, paint, sculpt, collage, diorama, whatever.