hello,
i have to ilustrate a poem for one of deanna staffo's concept assignments, but i can't think of one that has a lot of "illustratable" imagery. and ideas, favorites that you have, or something you would like to see me do?
thanks,
y.
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I really love when you draw outdoor scenery- hills, trees, buildings, etc, the kind of observational stuff that you do in your sketchbook.
ReplyDeleteIs there anyway to incorporate something like this?
yes, of course!
ReplyDeletethe only thing i need is the poem :)
do you know any poems with hill, trees, and buildings in them?
Blackberrying
ReplyDeleteby Sylvia Plath
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
Love the Plath poem! :)
ReplyDeleteOde to Ozymandius... (I think that's the spelling, and this is probably too late!)
ReplyDeleteEdna St. Vincent Millay. ...although I'm sure this response is wayy too late.
ReplyDeletethanks!
ReplyDeleteno, it's not too late. i haven't had time for this illustration yet, so thanks for all of the nice suggestions!