Month: March 2025

Ekphrastic Challenge 2025. Day Seven. Please join Debbie Ross, Matt Guntrip, Saraswati Nagpal, Alan McGinn, Anish Gupta, Phil Hyde, Donna Faulkner, Francis H Powell, Judy Smith , Sheikha A, Rituparna, John Armstrong, Oormila V. Prahlad and I as we respond to the daily artworks of Sara Elizabeth Bell, Jenn Zed, and Spriha Kant. Day Seven. April 7th.

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JZ7

SEB7

SK7

Scorpio (lateral descendant of Pluto) 
 
in response to artwork ‘Murder at Sunset’ by Sara Bell
 
after Pippa Phillips 
 
Philosophical lego is not your tendency game; scratch your cards right. At precise hour of purple plume day break, push blue whale back into the ocean. Let soundwaves from an undiscovered planet guide your resolve — reinstate past to nocturnal realities. What comes from nowhere reaches nowhere; apply instinct to logic and proceed. Waves between clouds pronounce rumble. Watch horizon scintillate as one with auburn soil. Don’t be alarmed by blood in the sky — a murder gathers and gleans only that is left behind. Forsake. Your direction north may trigger thunder. 
 
-Sheikha A.
 

7 Jz7

 

Is it a look into the future

or back to past

design of perfection

or the coldness of glass

would it adorn

somebody’s wall

be cherished adored

what does it say

what does it mean

-Francis H. Powell

 

Call of the Unseen ( Based on Artwork Inspired by SEB7 )

A crowd gathers beneath the trees,
faces tilted toward the fading light.
Some see endings, others beginnings.
One whispers goodbye to a joy long gone.
Another clings to the warmth still lingering.
Shadows stretch, uncertain and honest.
The sky tells no one truth.
We look together, alone in our meanings.
Evening comes.
The light leaves.

We remain, wondering—
was it a crow’s call for life,
or a call for the end?

Before the Gaze (Based on Artwork inspired by SK7)

Love undressed her gently;
not of cloth,
but of fear.

She sits, spine like a vow,
on stone carved from patience.
The earth listens.
Her hair, a black waterfall,
holds the weight of wanting.

No eyes, no gaze,
just the wind’s slow kiss
on shoulder blades of becoming.

She is not waiting.
She is.
Bare as the first thought
before it learns its name. 
 
-Anish Gupta
 
 
 
Jz 7
 
Windows of Perception
 
We stare at form,
and pretend we understand.
 
But it does not ask to be understood.
It waits.
It absorbs.
It reflects.
 
Each surface demands something different:
compliance, curiosity, memory, grief.
The black void at its center
is not emptiness.
It is everything
we refuse to see.
 
Light does not reach it,
not because it cannot,
but because we turn away.
 
We name the shape
to feel safe.
We frame it in color
to feel alive.
But beneath that
is the ache of not knowing,
the violence of certainty,
the unbearable silence
between perception
and truth.
 
 
SEB 7
 
They Still Come
 
Even now,
they perch on the dying branches
of what we once called forever.
 
Each bird is a fragment of us,
what we said,
what we couldn’t.
 
This sunset is the color
of your last silence.
Not anger.
Not sorrow.
Just that unbearable knowing
that love could not save
what time came to claim.
 
The trees remember
how your hands trembled
before they let go.
The roots have clutched every ache
I buried beneath whispered promises.
 
You left like dusk.
Slow. Inevitable.
Turning everything tender,
then cold.
 
And still,
they gather.
Black shapes against a bruised sky.
The only ones
who never stopped
coming back.
 
 
SK 7
 
Where the Silence Still Breathes
 
She sat where the grass remembered his footsteps.
Her back, bare to the breeze, still carried the warmth of his hands.
Not a word spoken.
Only the hush of moments that once breathed between them.
 
The silence now was not peace.
It was ache.
It was memory pressing against skin,
a ghost of love that never fully left.
 
She had loved him like monsoon loves parched earth,
without asking,
without pause.
He had left like morning slips out of night,
quiet, inevitable.
 
She did not cry.
Instead, she listened.
To leaves brushing against wind.
To her breath.
To that space in her chest
where he once lived
and still does.
 
-Rituparna

-Donna Faulkner

 

SEB7

Case of The Scrivener’s Murdered Heart


Case notes;




Charges:

That the Scrivener did knowingly and with premeditated metaphor

murder the silence between the stars 

by committing breaths upon his unspoken soul.


Presiding Judge:

Hon. Jack Kerouac

(Unshaven, barefoot, his gavel? Many fist punched typewriter keys )


Prosecution:

The poets inner keeper of snow globed hush

An ancient crow who only sings inside.


Defense:

The Poet himself —

ink-stained soul, star stray eyes,fire word starter


Jury?

– The Reader–



I. Opening Statement (Prosecution)

All souls,Beasts and fallen ghosts of all – you the jury —

I submit this:

I murdered silence.

Stole the hush from dusk’s soft maw,

caged it on a page,

called it fire like sunset edge

The crows are complicit!

Each line a black-winged voweling out infinities. 

Kept still upon the sacred bark skins of quietude



II. The Crows Interrupt



From the groves of greengage and broken cathedral arches —

the crows rustle.

First like scratchling twigs

Then like unsheathed hymns in a storm.

Then, like untethered Kites.


They shout:

This is not murder —



You call it sacred silence,

but it was never an echo of cathedral vespers.

We carried feral fragments

from branch to wind,

from treebone to thunder sky.


Poems are not solitary prisons —

They are the dawn crack of birth

 in splintering eggshell voices


‘Order!’ shouts Judge Kerouac,

through teeth he left

on motel chairs in ’57.




III.  Statement (Defense)

But who else would speak for the silence

In my bones?

Yes, I cracked the wings of cuneiform dusks,

but only to let the wind shape the valleys of lost souls

The crows don’t care

From where they stole their caw

I’m guilty of telling joy to my heart.



IV. The Judge (Kerouac, unsmiling)

You know what I know,

when the thought is fought,

it burns like starlight

on a planet of the blind.

But when on page,

it’s in a zoo —

kicking,

poking,

dusts up the floor of heaven’s stairs

That’s your sentence ( Now,lets buy him a gallon jug of wine)

V. Final Notes 

(Court Clerk, a blind Raven cawing Poe,Poe)


The jury?


Ahh,They were already at the bar,

drunk on juiced riffling script —

and some,

high on bell jarred Sylvia Plath.

-John Armstrong

 

-Judy Smith

 

Artworker Bios

Jenn Zed
Ms. Zed is an artist, writer, and musician who lives in Bath, England, with the ghost of her cat.
She studied art, art history, and design MA at Bath and Cambridge Universities.

Sara Elizabeth Bell

Says:

I’ve always loved drawing. It’s a form of meditation for me and has now become a way for me to find peace and sanity when my world gets too overwhelming, which, as a single mom with a neuro-divergent teen, happens quite often. When it does, I follow John Muir’s quote, “Off into the woods I go to loose my mind and find my soul.”
The results of those trips are  sketches of the forests around me and photos. I work from the photos to create my watercolors and intaglio prints. I hope you enjoy them and can find a place in your home to adopt one or more.

Spriha Kant

Writer Bios

Debbie Ross,

Debbie is a poet, author, artist, photographer, and baker. She lives 400m from the sea, in the far north Scottish Highlands, and can be mostly be found in the kitchen, at the beach, or at her writing table.

Matt Guntrip,

Matt Guntrip is a guitarist, song writer and indie musician from the UK. He has published four albums & five singles via CD Baby, available on most channels. He was a nominated solo artist on the New Music Generator Show, Cambridge 105FM.

Through creative writing he explores themes of nature, time, love, loss, rejection, injustice and hope, with a view to learning, improving and thus to writing better songs.

Matt’s writing has been published in The Belfast Review, The Broken Spine,  Fevers of The Mind, Folkheart Press Blog, GAS Poetry (YouTube), The Starbeck Orion (Substack) & The Wombwell Rainbow website.

Donna Faulkner,

Donna  Faulkner lives in a cottage in Rangiora, New Zealand with her husband , two sons and Emily, the black Labrador.  She’s been published in 300 Days of Sun, Havik, Windward Review, Havik, Fieldstone Review,  New Myths, Bacopa Literary Review and others. Her debut poetry book ‘In Silver Majesty’ was published by erbacce press(UK) 2024. 

Instagram @lady_lilith_poet/ Twitter @nee_miller. https://linktr.ee/donnafaulkner

Alan McGinn,

Anish Gupta,

Dr. Anish K. Gupta is an Indian urologist and an impassioned poet who writes mainly in English but also dabbles in Hindi and Urdu. His work seamlessly intertwines the exactitude of medical science with the subtleties of human emotion. Grounded in the complementary realms of medicine and art, his path reflects a profound quest for understanding, healing, and the expression of love and life. In the operating room or on the page, Dr. Gupta delves into the intricacies of both body and soul, approaching each with care, curiosity, and compassion. His poetry captures the subtle epiphanies of daily life, the fragility of the human condition, and the deep connections between love and existence. He goes by the #uropoet on X where his handle is @optionurol.

Phil Hyde,

GP Hyde was born on the Wirral and now lives in Grimsby. He studied art at Goldsmith’s and at the Royal Academy Schools. His fiction has been extensively published by Pure Slush. His poetry has been published by Black Bough Press, Hedgehog Press, Written Off, the Dark Poets and voidspacezine

Rituparna,

Rituparna Ghosh is an alumna of the National University of Singapore, an AI engineer, and the founder of Whizzstep. With a passion for poetry, she enjoys crafting verses, particularly in the genres of free verse and reflective poetry. A lover of nature, Rituparna finds peace in her walks by the beach, where the tranquility of the ocean inspires both her creativity and personal reflection. Coding is her profession, and she thrives on solving complex problems through technology. She also has a deep love for traveling, reading, learning new languages, and horse riding, connecting with the outdoors in a unique and fulfilling way.

Francis H Powell,

Judy Smith ,

Judy Smith lives in East Yorkshire. Retired from a career in health and education, she is an emerging poet. She has had poems published in several anthologies, including Spelt, 14, Black Bough, Artemis, High Wolds, Dreich, York Literary Review, The Starbeck Orion. She has a passion for wildlife gardening and community tree planting.

Sheikha A,

Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her poems appear in a variety of literary venues both print and online, and some of them have been translated into 8 languages so far. More about her can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com

John Armstrong,

John Armstrong is a poet whose work blends metaphysical inquiry with vivid, elemental imagery. Drawing from a deep reverence for nature, memory, and the cosmic, Armstrong’s poetry explores dualistic and trinitarian themes of love, transformation, and the spiritual texture of existence.Armstrong sees poetry not merely as a literary form but as a living, animistic force—language shaped by the earth itself. His work is a personal quest, a surrender to the unknown, finding beauty in ambiguity and meaning in the mist between words and life.

Spare time: He grows Cosmos flowers and wills them on way past the first frosts.

Saraswati Nagpal,


			

	


			
				


	

							
EkphrasticChallenge2025 Day One. Please join Debbie Ross, Matt Guntrip, Saraswati Nagpal, Alan McGinn, Anish Gupta, Phil Hyde, Donna Faulkner, Francis H Powell, Judy Smith , Sheikha A, Rituparna, John Armstrong and I as we respond to the daily artworks of Sara Elizabeth Bell, Jenn Zed, and Spriha Kant. Day One. April 1st.
						

			 / The Wombwell Rainbow						 / Leave a comment
								

			


		

		




JZ1








SEB1








Sk1







your stresses,






SEB 1


 




Bubble away


your stresses,


take wings


in the cool, purple night


and fly.


Your roots


will keep you


earthbound,


but for this moment


you can feel free.


SEB 2


Here they shoot crows


leave nests


empty.


Black masses


mourn


on the wing.


SEB 3


I will be tree.


I will grow


your cherry blossom


smile.


Spring up


in confetti molecules,


return to dust.


-Debbie Ross




























Phil Hyde 


SZ1


 


Parallel Paths 


 


I step forward, but nothing changes.


The stairs twist under my feet,


leading me nowhere, leading me back.


 


I press my hand to the wall,


it is cold, then warm, then gone.


I am not sure if I am touching it


or if it is touching me.


 


A door swings open.


Inside, a version of me waits.


She is sitting. She is breathing.


She knows things I do not.


She does not ask why I am here.


She does not need to.


 


I step away. I keep walking.


Another room, another self,


folded into corners of time I cannot remember.


Or maybe I do.


 


How many times have I come back to this place?


How many times have I left,


only to return?


 


Maybe there is no way out.


Maybe I am not supposed to leave.


Maybe I am all of it,


every path, every door, every version of myself


waiting to be found.


 


 


SEB 1


 


Whispers of the Earth


 




She landed in a world that breathed in silence,


where trees curled like thoughts half-formed.


Bubbles drifted, holding fragments of forgotten stories,


breaking softly, leaving nothing behind.


Barefoot, she traced the roots beneath her,


feeling the quiet pulse of something ancient,


as if the earth itself had been waiting.




 




Sk 1


 




I Do Not Kneel


 


It rises,


fangs bared, breath thick with control.


It calls me prey,


waits for my voice to break,


for my spine to bend.


 


But I do not break.


I do not bend.


 


I have walked through fire,


worn chains disguised as love,


stood in silence while the world decided who I should be.


 


No more.


 


Let it loom. Let it roar.


I am not afraid.


I do not kneel.


Not now. Not ever.






 


-Rituparna


 


Virgo (the transcending foliage) 


 


in response to painting ‘Pop to Let Go’ by Sara Bell


 


after Pippa Phillips


 


One by one they apparate as mystifying collectibles — hours of humming forest melodies will arrive you to a door in the depths of a dense waterfall of willows. Part curtains delicately into night, unlock with key hidden beneath a firm spell. Soil spins yarns of seedlings that may or may not bloom into sky piercing stalks. Climb carefully dissipating vines, the path is backwards where control blends into silence. Trees are rising and you are shrinking. Allow, then follow worm hole to where roots span inside earth’s maw. 


 


-Sheikha A


 


How fair is the Bubble Maid’s mind, I wonder.


Is she fair as the hope in dawn’s blush?


where cerulean sea mists,


brush the blue skin of sky


Noctilucent dreams—unsaid, adrift—from sight


Does she know the weight of words?


Ephemeral cloudy spheres,


those trembling orbs of spangled


tensions- the gap of silence and the sigh.


‘Look on my Words, ye thirsty, and inspire.’


She felt this after her wand


drank words from worlds


that ended


in those seconds of a stare.


Word is truth,words of truth


The thirst of Man ? Words


are all you need to drink.


 




 


Yet still, I wonder… 


-John Armstrong


Labryinth of Ascent, Based on Artwork by JZ1


Steps stretch, fold, dissolve;


a staircase of endless riddles.


Shadowed arches swallow light,


sharp angles carve the sky.


Rise, pause, descend, repeat,


a passage sculpted in mirage.


Hope flickers on distant landings,


but the climb twists,


ever shifting;


a geometry of longing,


a puzzle of becoming.


Its All Gone, Based on Artwork by SEB1


A girl lifts her wand,


bubbles drift, silver-thin;


soft universes swelling,


waiting for the hush of surrender.


One touch;


a shiver of silence,


the weightless farewell,


a world undone without a trace.


Not all must vanish.


Some drift beyond reach,


whole, gleaming,


held by air, by time, by will.


-Anish Gupta


JZ1


Step through temptation


Follow the impossible


Hiding in the shade


SEB1


Bubbles of delight 


Rooted in love of nature


Magic on command


 


SK1


Arachnid terror


Medusa snakes on her limbs


Pincers on her mind…


-Matt Guntrip


The Imagined (inspired by JZ1, SEB1, SK1)




 


four legged two faced spider badged carries you 


by your hair in its back leg over grey surfaces, impossible straight lines through


brutalist concrete, as you watch the way


of bubbles between bent tree trunks that know


only curves and the secret meetings beneath


the earth of roots that bind soil as they grow.


And see yourself dance after bubbles brief 


float through branches in a glade as your head


hair is yanked by this imagined creature whose faces look right,left, never ahead.


This abuser is also your maker


of brief luminescent globes flit in flight,


decides your dreams of dark days, and bright nights


-Paul Brookes 


 Artworker Bios






Jenn Zed
Ms. Zed is an artist, writer, and musician who lives in Bath, England, with the ghost of her cat.
She studied art, art history, and design MA at Bath and Cambridge Universities.






Sara Elizabeth Bell










Says:






I’ve always loved drawing. It’s a form of meditation for me and has now become a way for me to find peace and sanity when my world gets too overwhelming, which, as a single mom with a neuro-divergent teen, happens quite often. When it does, I follow John Muir’s quote, “Off into the woods I go to loose my mind and find my soul.” 
The results of those trips are  sketches of the forests around me and photos. I work from the photos to create my watercolors and intaglio prints. I hope you enjoy them and can find a place in your home to adopt one or more.






Spriha Kant


Spriha Kant is an English poetess, book reviewer, and digital artist. She has been published in some anthologies — “Hidden in Childhood” and “We Are The Waves,” to name a few. Her poems have also been published in the seventh issue of “Reflections,” the well-known literary magazine “Prosetrics.” She has been the Guest of honor in the award-winning show “Victoria in Verse” (Bloomsbury Radio, London). Her interviews can be read at feversofthemind.com & and brokenspine.co.uk. Her quotes are published as an epigraph and a blurb in Magkasintahan Volume VI & Swiped Right [both books published by Ukiyoto Publishing, Philippines], respectively. Her artwork can be seen in a webzine called “The Starbeck Orion” and on thewombwellrainbow.com.


 










Writer Bios






Debbie Ross,






Debbie is a poet, author, artist, photographer, and baker. She lives 400m from the sea, in the far north Scottish Highlands, and can be mostly be found in the kitchen, at the beach, or at her writing table.






Matt Guntrip,






Matt Guntrip is a guitarist, song writer and indie musician from the UK. He has published four albums & five singles via CD Baby, available on most channels. He was a nominated solo artist on the New Music Generator Show, Cambridge 105FM.


Through creative writing he explores themes of nature, time, love, loss, rejection, injustice and hope, with a view to learning, improving and thus to writing better songs.


Matt’s writing has been published in The Belfast Review, The Broken Spine,  Fevers of The Mind, Folkheart Press Blog, GAS Poetry (YouTube), The Starbeck Orion (Substack) & The Wombwell Rainbow website.






Donna Faulkner,






Donna  Faulkner lives in a cottage in Rangiora, New Zealand with her husband , two sons and Emily, the black Labrador.  She’s been published in 300 Days of Sun, Havik, Windward Review, Havik, Fieldstone Review,  New Myths, Bacopa Literary Review and others. Her debut poetry book ‘In Silver Majesty’ was published by erbacce press(UK) 2024. 






Instagram @lady_lilith_poet/ Twitter @nee_miller. https://linktr.ee/donnafaulkner






Alan McGinn,






Anish Gupta,






Dr. Anish K. Gupta is an Indian urologist and an impassioned poet who writes mainly in English but also dabbles in Hindi and Urdu. His work seamlessly intertwines the exactitude of medical science with the subtleties of human emotion. Grounded in the complementary realms of medicine and art, his path reflects a profound quest for understanding, healing, and the expression of love and life. In the operating room or on the page, Dr. Gupta delves into the intricacies of both body and soul, approaching each with care, curiosity, and compassion. His poetry captures the subtle epiphanies of daily life, the fragility of the human condition, and the deep connections between love and existence. He goes by the #uropoet on X where his handle is @optionurol.






Phil Hyde,






GP Hyde was born on the Wirral and now lives in Grimsby. He studied art at Goldsmith’s and at the Royal Academy Schools. His fiction has been extensively published by Pure Slush. His poetry has been published by Black Bough Press, Hedgehog Press, Written Off, the Dark Poets and voidspacezine






Rituparna,


Rituparna Ghosh is an alumna of the National University of Singapore, an AI engineer, and the founder of Whizzstep. With a passion for poetry, she enjoys crafting verses, particularly in the genres of free verse and reflective poetry. A lover of nature, Rituparna finds peace in her walks by the beach, where the tranquility of the ocean inspires both her creativity and personal reflection. Coding is her profession, and she thrives on solving complex problems through technology. She also has a deep love for traveling, reading, learning new languages, and horse riding, connecting with the outdoors in a unique and fulfilling way.






Francis H Powell,






Judy Smith ,






Judy Smith lives in East Yorkshire. Retired from a career in health and education, she is an emerging poet. She has had poems published in several anthologies, including Spelt, 14, Black Bough, Artemis, High Wolds, Dreich, York Literary Review, The Starbeck Orion. She has a passion for wildlife gardening and community tree planting.






Sheikha A,


Sheikha A. is from Pakistan and United Arab Emirates. Her poems appear in a variety of literary venues both print and online, and some of them have been translated into 8 languages so far. More about her can be found at sheikha82.wordpress.com






John Armstrong,


John Armstrong is a poet whose work blends metaphysical inquiry with vivid, elemental imagery. Drawing from a deep reverence for nature, memory, and the cosmic, Armstrong’s poetry explores dualistic and trinitarian themes of love, transformation, and the spiritual texture of existence.Armstrong sees poetry not merely as a literary form but as a living, animistic force—language shaped by the earth itself. His work is a personal quest, a surrender to the unknown, finding beauty in ambiguity and meaning in the mist between words and life.


Spare time: He grows Cosmos flowers and wills them on way past the first frosts.






Saraswati Nagpal,