Word Portraits


Words can paint, each letter, a bristle of a brush. The sentence becomes a stroke. Paragraphs shape objects. A portrait needs no beginning, middle, or end. When we look deep at a painting, we can’t help but wonder why the Mona Lisa smiles. If you look deep enough at portraits, close enough to pick out desires, they jump out of the frame. The frame is the story. Break out! Break out!



29 Comments on “Word Portraits

  1. Your writing is wonderful. It inspires the artist within. Every word is perfectly placed; makes me imagine the thoughts that once upon a time were yours.

    And thank you for visiting my blog.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. They say that everyone with the portrait of Mona Lisa hanging in houses that are inhabited by girls are bound to cry more than everyone, its the curse of the Mona lisa, well that’s what did my grandma said.

    We had a Mona Lisa hanged in our salon, and I cried a lot lot and is very sensitive.

    I guess that Mona lisa’s portrait still haunts me. Hher smile always caused a feeling of anxiety in me, her eyes too, it was as if she..well

    I loved what you have written here, you write so beautifully. Thank you. Christa

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Yes, words paint and pictures speak. Images exist in either or both languages. But look deep enough in either/both, though, and you’ll see more than texts; you’ll see an artist looking at you through the frame, the story, the narrative of your shared languages and lookings. Thanks for the likes.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Sorry for the delay. I’m still learning my way around WordPress. Thank you for your kind words. I am pleased to be inspiring!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love the still art. One can use their own imaginations to tell the story of the still; what was happening, what happened to them…beautiful.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Elan, what you wrote is so cool and it sparked the memory of a poem I wrote years ago from the viewpoint of woman trapped in a painting who observes those observing her and who wants to break out. I don’t know if there is room to type the entire poem here or not. But here goes…hope you enjoy it.


    I see
    skeletal frames
    with blue silk scarves
    knotted and tied,
    anchored inside:
    the air bursting within them.

    The scarves bulge out
    full and taut:
    the air bursting inside them.

    It leaves me feeling stranded.

    Once I saw it in a frame
    hung beside a bowl.
    I didn’t think that ever again
    I’d see this field,
    cold as lead,
    with granite stones that
    mark the graves,

    Nor walk the path
    of those ahead.
    Yet here I am
    in blue silk scarves,
    waving to the passing crowd–
    waving hard
    but they don’t see.

    They gather for a look at me.

    A closer look:
    “Can’t you see,
    the structure of the bones is small.”

    “The hands, the feet most delicate.”

    “Her teeth were straight.
    Her spine, as well.”

    “She lived in health
    though history tells
    her life was very difficult.”

    And so they spoke and carried on
    while I stood there
    not quite forgotten.
    I stood there
    in blue silk scarves,
    a canvas veil before me.

    — a poem by Renee Walker

    Liked by 4 people

  7. The most curious thing for me about Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa is she has no eyebrows 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Love the pictures! Wonderful stuff. Thanks for stopping by my blog, and I look forward to seeing your incredible imagination in action on your posts.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. The word portraits are supposed to stay still, like a still painting. They aren’t meant to move anywhere, but stay within a certain realm. No plot, no rising action. Maybe just an action or one mood that does not fall one way or another.

    Liked by 4 people

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