Poems from English Writing 3C
Students from the English Writing class have been trying their hand at ekphrastic poetry. This is a type of poetry which is inspired by another work of art, such as a painting, drawing or photo. Some responses reflected on what the artist may have been thinking when producing the work, while others spun out possible stories and events from the image, such as Mikaela Willett’s “Behind a Queen of Drag”. Some delved into the thoughts of someone in the painting, such as the little man contemplating his nonsensical world in Xavier Carter’s “Waterfall”.
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Photo: Diane Arbus, Three Female Impersonators, 1962, Art Gallery of Ontario
Behind A Queen of Drag
Part One
His eyes stare
right through the soul of all he entrances,
stripping them bare
dissecting their glances and hushed words.
Standing tall, shoulders squared,
lips pursed: holding his tongue.
He steels himself to the disappointment,
to all who tell him not to be.
Trapped behind the thick mascara and heavy foundation,
lost in the image of drag,
never with his own name.
Arms held firm,
support at his sides.
In a dressing room,
where they show themselves unapologetically.
Ever strong in the spotlight,
with his family, chosen.
“It’s time”
Part Two
Warm beer in his hands,
footy on the screen,
slouched in his worn brown chair.
Mumblings of annoyance.
His hand lifts
scratching at the stubble of his tired face.
Eyes flicker
to the photo frame faced down on the corner table.
A sigh.
The weight of a boy in a pirate costume,
laying heavy on the mind of
a fathers naivety.
Made to disappear,
yet still ever present,
the ghost of his boy,
neglected,
haunting him now as the man he became.
Blue lights of the screen like bulbs around a mirror.
Mikaela Willett
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Waterfall
My life is built on what you
see as an impossibility,
the waterwheel spinning in a perfect loop.
My wife hangs our washing
from the walls, corners, and curves I spent years shaping,
all while the missus thought I was mad.
Though something seems wrong.
When taught in schools, as young children,
of forwards, back,
left, right,
up, down,
what goes up must come down,
but the water flows,
like a bird flying without wings,
like a knight jousting without a horse.
Even if you asked me,
I couldn’t explain how I did this,
though I am the creator,
the mastermind behind this.
The world I live in makes no sense,
created by a faulty god,
fragmented,
like a puzzle with missing pieces.
The geometric marvels atop the waterway,
are no longer the centre of attention,
nor the perfect shelves of crops,
It is the waterway that refuses logic,
the water that falls without reason.
All I can do is admire,
my construct of broken promises.
I look up at my wife.
She gives me a small smile,
and a loving wave,
unburdened by these thoughts.
Xavier Carter