Category Archives: Artwork

Perish

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Man’s crisis of faith, bailing, fiercely, flames and dearth– How to birth perish.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged abstract, Artwork, crisis, faith, fire, flames, haiku, John Biscello, Mark Rothko, painting, poem, Poetry, red, Yellow, yellow alert, yellow and red | Leave a comment

Musing

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Birdless solitude, Winter’s song, slow, deep, solemn– Musing upon spring.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged Andrew Wyeth, Artwork, birds, bones, cold, haiku, John Biscello, landscape, Muse, nature, poem, Poetry, pond, snow, solitude, tree, Winter, winter scene | Leave a comment

Mother, Daughter

Posted on November 9, 2017 by John Biscello

Mother, without your touch, blood-lush access to eternity’s grasp, I am rudderless, and adrift, in a world that shits on innocence. ………………………………….. Daughter, without you to hold, a promise illumined into love’s totem, I am sunless, and moonless, a stray … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged Artwork, blessing, bond, Cris Qualiana Basham, daughter, devotion, John Biscello, love, mother, mother and daughter, painting, poem, Poetry, red, soul, spirit, touch, woman and child | 2 Comments

Lullaby

Posted on November 8, 2017 by John Biscello

Hear the bleached creaking, of chafed slats upon silence– Winter’s lullaby.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged Andrew Wyeth, fence, haiku, John Biscello, landscape, lullaby, poem, Poetry, silence, snow, sound, tree, Winter, winter scene | Leave a comment

Cosmos

Posted on November 1, 2017 by John Biscello

With center in place, growth happens behind our backs– the cosmos abides.

Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged bliss, center, cosmos, growth, haiku, henry miller, John Biscello, love, poem, Poetry, serenity, stillness, watercolor | Leave a comment

Mist

Posted on October 31, 2017 by John Biscello

There will come a day when, unplugged and remote, you dissolve and slip gently between the veils, so much mist needed for mourning’s soft focus into grave clarity.