Jan Napier is rewarded with First Place in the 2026 Creative Connections competition for her wonderful poem, A Dream of Forests, which she located within the painting Untitled N.5 by Elizabeth Conquest.

The painting is a fine example of abstract expressionism. This, of course, gives open entrance to a virtually infinite number of possible responses to the art. Perhaps Jan is well aware of that potential though I don’t know whether she chose to write about this particular painting or was directed to it. In any case, she has created a very good poem as she reflects on the enticing painterly image.

It can’t be too often that the first poem in a group for judging also immediately starts to stand out as the likely winner. Two things were straight away apparent. A clear sense of how to craft a poem and an ability to conjure up what only seems like an obvious reply to the painting once it is read. I would defy anyone to argue that they saw the same ideas reaching out from the painting. Yet, once read, they seem ideally apt. My guess is that there are other poets who could have wrangled something equally emotive and suggestive from this painting. But I am sure that they would not come up with this highly inveigling short poem.

What makes it so alluring? There are a few brief acknowledgments of the forest, but almost immediately we realise they are only framework. The focus quickly moves to the unicorn, and talk of waning magic. The unicorn is similarly weakening. Now the poet shows her poetic skill. The initial six-line stanza stands as a cool statement of what has been observed.

Instead of continuing with a discussion of the collapsing nature of unicorns and magic, these notions are allowed to stand and be absorbed. Something is needed to shift to another notion. Something also endemic to the forest: “Silence. A breeze.”

Our attention is called away “…to a boy [who] sounds out his first fable, believes …” Without any conjunction, the unicorn hears and is encouraged, heaving to her feet.

And then the truly magical final line: “Not yet, not yet …” The reader is caught, breathless in knowing that magic still exists. There is still at least one unicorn and a boy who is experimenting with the fabulous.

First place without reservation. Congratulations, Jan.

Gary Colombo De Piazzi is honoured with my other choice for the Commended category. The title to the piece of art (Funny Bunny) as much as the painting itself doesn’t obviously point to the stories found in Lewis Carroll’s book (Alice in Wonderland), but Gary has sensed the idea echoing within the piece of abstract visual art.

Here is an excellent example of how visual images access memory. Perhaps Funny Bunny brought up memories of the wonderful Lewis Carroll writings about Alice. Ekphrastic poetry doesn’t absolutely rely on any of the features in a work of visual art for its stimulus to word-crafting. Yet it’s curious to note that once the connection has been implied, there are the feelings of Aha! and of course! Which surge to the foreground in a person’s awareness.

A fascinating feature of Gary’s poem is that it is all contained in a single utterance. Much as is the case when one is confronted by something wondrous for the first time. There are no breaks between the opening capital and the final period. More surprising is to observe that it isn’t even a sentence. You can just about reach the end of the poem with a single breath.

And that very much resonates with the painting which is a conglomerate of shapes and colours with only scant reference to bunnies or to the Alice stories. This brevity of expression is further warped into the picture by reliance on only four colours: blue, brown ochre, white and black.

Gary’s own choice of language picks up on the distortions crashing in and out of the painting. He points out “… a rabbit hole that distorts and veers Alice’s life …” and cautions Alice “to avoid the tangled roots”. He knows with recall to the original story that “…all it takes is a key to escape this twisted landscape …” But neither the painting nor the poem provides the key and so the quandary for Alice remains steadfast. The threat envisaged in both art forms is ominous and full of dread.

Another extremely good demonstration of ekphrasis, this time exploiting back memories. Congratulations to you too, Gary!

Melissa Domiati has crafted a delightful untitled poem in response to picture No 9 Flower Queen by Samala Ghosh. Both the poem and the picture have immediately distinctive features. The artist has produced a lovely example of naïf portraiture; the poet has crafted a sonnet.

There is a fairly wide array of what qualifies a poem to be called a sonnet but one unassailable trait is it must have 14 lines exactly. After that come issues of construction in terms of stanzas, rhyming sequence, metre, a volta or turning point usually at the ninth line.

Melissa has not concerned herself to maintain other than two of the typical criteria; the 14-line overall length; and the volta which breaks the poem into two uneven length stanzas. The balance between the first and second stanzas creates an effective tension: at first, we are given a simple description of the girl, her attire and expression; in the second, we shift to suggestions of supplementary philosophical insight where the girl is imbued with a number of more internalised qualities.

It is this second stanza which caught my attention. Here Melissa took me beyond mere description. She has fathomed the inner spirit of the girl, taking up the florid images which strike the viewer’s eye so patently with their bold colours and contrasts, and casting out to wider values. The duality of the girl is evoked in earthen guise, making her “…both the garden and the girl who tends it…”.

The last line is stunning. The girl is “choosing to wear joy out loud.” The heart lifts and wants to sing in harmony with this glorious annunciation.

This poem is a very powerful demonstration of ekphrasis. Congratulations, Melissa!