M.M. Panas and JoAnn Moore

M.M. Panas
Third Generation
Acrylic/charcoal on canvas, 40″ x 30″
Inspiration Piece provided to JoAnn Moore

Indelible Marks
by JoAnn Moore

Bombs fall
and, like paint running down a canvas,
attempt to erase what was
or was not:

greenless earth
raw corpses
fruitful town centers
blood soaked histories
a country’s pulse.

Yet even as the wind blows
fire and ignites

rivulets of blood and fear,
the headstones succumb to dust,
and the disgusting maggots
go about their cleaning—

the dead live on
in blue sky bursts momentarily
a little less distant
with each revelation.

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M.M. Panas
Without the Sun
Acrylic/charcoal on canvas, 36″ x 24″
Painted using JoAnn Moore’s poem (below) as inspiration

A Week at Mid-Age
by JoAnn Moore

Monday

A raven lands on
the overhang just above
the open window
where a cardinal—startled—
flashes red, sings louder, stays.

Tuesday

Without the sun, plants
wither, warmth ceases, shadows
cloud nature, shrunk to
mourning. Overcome, the one
miracle— hope—becomes dark.

Wednesday

Is the full-trunked elm
at odds with the ivy’s fresh
tendrils wending spring?
Or does it love the sky more
when it gets to share the view?

Thursday

The fog doesn’t sit
on silent cat haunches so
much as it pads in,
then sets curled in a peaceful
lull —lap-bound— happy to rest.

Friday

Constantly-lapping
tides keep the edge in flux, with
each wave erasing
what the previous has brought.
But the sand will remember.

Saturday

Truth: As one ages,
the hunger grows to go back,
do it again, at
least the uncertain hours—
reliving as harmony.

Sunday

The bumblebee veers—
drunk-like, laden with pollen—
seeking the nectar’s
sweet without care for the path,
or the burden to get there.