Nan Gartner

contributor to 3 posters

  • Shadow of a cyclist standing with bike with colorful bike path stretching ahead

    Poet

    Purple Loosestrife

    I've been writing since I've been old enough to write something that someone else would want to look at. Originally, I wrote stories, and they were short stories because I like to be brief. I like the brevity of being able to use the right word at the right time and have it say everything I want it to say. So I'm in love with words and will probably continue to fool with them until I can't write anymore.

    This haiku refers to the path along the Erie Canal and to the colors there, which are just fantastic! It's not only a vision for the eyes but has an emotional effect that is peaceful. I now live in Canandaigua. But when I was living in Fayetteville, I was very close to the Erie Canal and Erie Canal Park. It was a lovely peaceful place to go and walk along the park path, which is for many people an almost daily routine. There is color and silence, which is sometimes all you need today!

  • Dark silhouettes walk along snowy streets by colorful buildings under oversized snowflakes

    Poet

    December Snowflakes

    As you may be able to tell, I'm a romantic. The moon is my planet, according to my horoscope. So I can blame it on the moon.

    I wrote this haiku about a scene which I haven't necessarily been in but I have imagined, which pleases my romantic instincts. I know that wintertime strolling can be romantic, and I think people are fortunate who have that experience.

    I don't think there's anything prettier than large white snowflakes falling quietly, especially in the evening by moonlight, what could be more beautiful? The square that comes to mind is in Syracuse. Hanover Square, maybe.

  • Crows fly around and land on bare tree branches beneath reddened clouds and falling snow

    Poet

    Through a Scrim of Snow

    When I was 9, I wrote stories. When I was 10, I decided to re-write the family dictionary into a new language of my own creation (an attempt soon aborted); perhaps an early sign of my love affair with language.

    Poetry has become my newest challenge; finding precisely the right marriage of words to meaning.

    The haiku illustrated here is a distillation of something beautiful I saw one snowy night in Syracuse.