Tag: Gregory E. Lucas

Two Poems by Gregory E. Lucas

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Two Friars on a Hillside

Inspired by Two Friars on a Hillside by Fra Bartolommeo, pen and brown ink, Florentine, 1472-
1517.

Two friars stroll on a hillside
while the feeble sun hides
in a sky as gray as stones.
The wilderness is barren and motionless,
but bent trees still stand like decrepit men.
Under their withered branches, leaves
lie buried in midwinter’s calm.
The friars clutch their robes
and bow their heads.
They ponder holy verses
and a mystic’s cryptic words.
One extols the virtues of a saint;
the other praises the glories of this world
but dreams of a paradise to come.
As the day slips through a misty door, otherworldly
light floods the earth, and silence offers proof.


The Tragedy

After Pablo Picasso’s painting The Tragedy, 1903. Spanish-born artist.

Cloud cover thins and rises
above the moon’s wounded eyes.
The barefoot family of three
shivers at the ocean’s rippled brink.

The frigid wind
whispers warnings of a gaping void
and carries scents of decay.
Turning her back on hope, the mother
rocks the dead baby cradled in her arms.

Her sobs reverberate
in the indifferent night, while
again, the haggard father asks, Why?

The only answer is a far-off
seabird’s fading dirge.
Glitters on the sea dim.
The sky’s last gleams vanish, leaving
no star to offer guidance.

A baffled boy of six or seven
begs for explanations, and finality
replies in the language of shattering waves.

No more shifting shadows among varied hues.
Grief stains Earth with a dull monochrome.

Nothing’s left except them—
huddled, gazing inward.




Gregory E. Lucas writes fiction and poetry. His poems and short stories have appeared in many magazines, such as The Ekphrastic Review, Blueline, and The Horror Zine. His X handle is @GregoryELucas.

“The Artist’s Garden” by Gregory E. Lucas

~ Randal A. Burd, Jr. ~ Leave a comment
(Inspired by Ralph Albert Blakelock’s painting The Artist’s Garden — 1880 — American.)

An artist’s garden—
too commonplace to think that it could happen here:
the dusk gathering by degrees
its forceful melancholy,
demanding to be more than daylight’s dwindling,
asserting itself until it changes
with uncanny exactness
into a state of mind.

While the hues of blooming flowers fade,
the once-bright pathways turn gray—
taper to blackened ends.

Fragrances linger
in the springtime air
that holds unanswered questions.
The elm trees’ shadows deepen
until they portray the void within the artist’s soul.
Rows of cultivated flowerbeds
bow to unrealized dreams.
This, while the fading sky and indelible gloom
suffuses the dimming hedges.

Diminutive, in the distance,
a church spire, to which
the dying day’s light clings.
Faith, assurance, and hope
give way to the moment
when disillusionment
renders every leaf and stem colorless.




Gregory E. Lucas writes fiction and poetry. His short stories and poems have appeared in many magazines, such as The Ekphrastic Review, The Horror Zine, and Blueline. He lives on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. Follow him on Twitter X @GregoryELucas.

“The Fisherman in His Dory” by Gregory E. Lucas

~ Randal A. Burd, Jr. ~ 1 Comment
(Inspired by Winslow Homer’s painting, The Fog Warning, 1885, USA.)

Toward the distant ship, the fogbank rolls.
Fraught, wearied and alone, on darkened waves,
with no time to lose, the fisherman rows.

Get back, or else he’s lost at sea, he knows.
He’s strayed so far, too far to be seen or saved,
and faster, toward the ship, the fogbank rolls.

Above the ship, clouds brighten, purple and rose,
but the fogbank thickens, and the masts are vague.
No time to lose. Onward, the fisherman rows,

then, for a moment, stops. He turns and holds
both oars quite still, insults the sky and prays.
Closer to the ship, the fogbank rolls,

and soon it’s sure to cut him off. His sole
hope is to find more strength. Ignoring pains,
with now less time to lose, again he rows.

His two big halibut he won’t unload;
he’ll carry the catch no matter what it weighs.
Toward the distant ship, the fogbank rolls.
With no time to lose, the fisherman rows.




Gregory E. Lucas writes fiction and poetry.  His short stories and poems have appeared in The Horror Zine, Blue Unicorn, The Ekphrastic Review, and many other magazines.  He lives on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina.