In addition to being an artist, Markus Lüpertz was a poet. Throughout the exhibition, share your Lüpertz-inspired poems with us to win prizes. Every other week, we’ll issue a new poetry challenge based on images or themes in the exhibition for fresh inspiration and chances to win.
THIS WEEK’S CHALLENGE:
In a haiku, describe how you feel when you look at this work. Reminder: a traditional haiku is a three-line poem with seventeen syllables, written in a 5/7/5 syllable count.
THIS WEEK’S PRIZE: Phillips prize package (art supplies from the museum shop!)
TO ENTER: Leave your poem in the comments here, or share on social media with #LupertzPoem. We’ll select winners on Friday, July 7.
**UPDATE: The winning haiku was submitted by E. Egan:
At the edge of shade,
the sun about to find out
what the grass feels like.
Thank you to all who participated! Check back on our blog Monday, July 10 for a new challenge and chance to win prizes.
Yellow wheat stalks crushed
Blue sky over scattered light
My palette calls me
Beauty is the field
The mandate is the effort
Phillips is the place
tethered to my work
I stand, transfixed– the burden,
the joy of hay fields.
gold path distracts me
could not see the greener grass
fool’s gold at my feet
textured flowing fierce
am I but the bending field
shadowing the wind
Like the howling gale
Through an endless sea of gold
I find my freedom
Fields of nostalgia
looking forward, looking back
Time stands still in gold
Chop, chop the trees down
Shatter, sprinkle them to sand
A few left—homestretch!
Untitled
Waving, too, like wheat in wandering winds,
I wait, amid a whispering, trembling peace. I touch the bordering
Wild grass and darkling, quiet woods.
Untitled
Amid the wheat I
Linger, grazing wild grass, the
Darkling wood, the wind.
High noon. Swing your scythe,
exhale: creosote arrows
scatter on the dial.
Golden silent. fields
Darkening woods encroaching
Future uncertain
Blue, green, gold, brown – what?
Colors fuzz into focus
Wait – jubilation.
sliver of gray sky
golden expansive crossing
every step shimmers
Sky, shadows taunt us
all as death beats back at us
Bread, sun, eternal
The desolate field,
Stripped, weeping into itself,
Forest bathed in tears.
At the edge of shade,
the sun about to find out
what the grass feels like.
Congratulations! You’re the winner of this poetry challenge Phillips prize package. To redeem, please email contests@phillipscollection.org with “Poetry Challenge” in the subject line. Thanks so much for participating!
Amy
Harvest Haiku
Transubstantiate
Panel of wood to wheat field;
Eye gleans grain of truth.
Lupertz’s palette:
Few colors, solid and dark
Hues like Jacob L
Poetic motifs
explode with vibrant colors…
sensory ticklings
Scratching to snatch straws
From memory’s dull impression
Of once sunlit fields
Uh oh, it should be “dulled” not “dull”. I’ll repost with the correction.
Scratching to snatch straws
From memory’s dulled impression
Of once sunlit fields.