2026 NPSA Ekphrastic Poetry Contest
2026 EKPHRASTIC POETRY CONTEST GUIDELINES -
ADULTS & YOUTH
WHAT IS AN EKPHRASTIC POEM?
An ekphrastic poem is one based on a piece of art. These poems take an existing piece of visual art and use written words to describe and expand on the theme of that work of art. Often these poems explore hidden meanings or an underlying story.
San Antonio and South Texas poets are invited to submit poems inspired by artworks from five San Antonio arts institutions. Categories: Adults; Youth, ages 13 – 17; Youth, age 12 and under.
Gerald Balciar , Canyon Princess 1996, Bronze, Briscoe Western Art Museum Collection, purchased with funds provided by the Jack and Valerie Guenther Foundation.
Submission Guidelines
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Go to https://forms.gle/reebH38NP8gPB5XV9 for the official entry form and follow the prompts.You will receive an email confirming receipt of your submission.
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Contest is limited to San Antonio & South Texas poets. Poets may submit up to two (2) poems (each a maximum of 15 lines plus title), written in response to an artwork. Only poems written in response to official selected museum artworks (see links above) will be considered.
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If you are submitting two poems, a separate form must be completed for each poem.
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Only poems following line requirements will be accepted and no changes can be made to poems once they are submitted.
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Do not type your name on any poem or it will not be considered.
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We will only accept submissions received between February 4, 2026 and March 4, 2026.
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Only winners will be notified via email by March 17. Winning poems will be shared at Gemini Ink Ekphrastic Poetry Contest on April, during National Poetry Month. Winners will also be invited to read at a Celebratory Event to be held at McNay Art Museum, Chiego Hall, on April 23, 2026 at 6:00 pm. The event is free and open to the public; attendees must pre-register HERE.
Save the date! Ekphrastic Celebration Reading by winning poets at McNay Art Museum April 23, 2026, Chiego Hall at 6 p.m.
Judges: Jim LaVilla Havelin, 2026 National Poetry Month coordinator, Eddie Vega, San Antonio Poet Laureate, and Linda Simone, poet, artist, educator, will select up to three poems per artwork for each category.
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Please do not send an email asking about winners.All winners will be notified via email by March 19 their poems listed on the museum websites throughout April, National Poetry Month.
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By March 21, Winners must attach their winning poem(s) as a PDF in an email to EkphrasticPoetryContest1@gmail.com.
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Email subject line must read: (ADULT or YOUTH) Winning Poem PDF – (Your Name).
2026 EKPHRASTIC POETRY WINNERS
The way she sits
elevated and balanced, I marvel at the way
she looks for lone pairs of horns or antlers
that pierce a pink horizon. I also wince, thinking
of how easily rock can roll under steady paws,
how some cats have only one life. And
how the layered steeple on which she
perches to prey is the steepest she’s ever
made her own, so steep she nearly turns
herself into two—hind paws kissing uneven
incline, front almost perpendicular to the rest,
as if forelimbs, chest, shoulders, and head
could walk off as one. Claw to tail, she is tall.
Without standing, she is standing, without
yowling, commanding a canyon.
And doing so on an unkind slope.
-Jonathan Fletcher
At ten, my favorite animal was a mountain lion
Once, at Busch Gardens,
In my matching shorts and tie front top,
I ran my palm over her bronze fur —
Her muscles still and softened
Her countenance demure
Now, she prowls the canyon pockets
And I do not dare touch
Those cold thick haunches
Captured in her dialed eyes,
I am cautious and I am halted
Cast me in bronze
Cast me then, at ten,
Feral and lionhearted
Cast me strong and
Cast me princess too
-Allyson Boyd
Law of the Desert
The best kind of beauty is that which kills you,
soft to the touch and sharp in the teeth.
Regal, sly and keen.
Sharp-eyed and sure-footed
on steep walls where others would stumble,
in deep valleys where others would bleed.
Sleek, refined and controlled.
Power-hungry and muscle-bound,
on slopes no hunter would brave,
with prowess no predator would challenge.
Gorgeous in your desert conquest,
preparing for an endless ambush
as you slink down, down into the action
with enough might to make the whole world prey.
-Erika Howlett
Come to Me
Gunpowder clung to the air,
Red soaked into the earth under me,
Clouds of dust followed them as they rode, their laughter
Echoing along the canyon walls.
I tried to move, to yell, to breathe,
But my body did not
Heed my commands.
So I stayed. And
So did she.
She waited until the sky surrendered its
Color, and slinked her way down the rocky slope.
Her eyes trained on me,
My eyes trained on her.
I called for her to finish it.
-Lily Clark
Monument to What Followed
Something broke here
before I was dropped into it.
This fragment was once whole
You can see it in the wound.
They poured me in the fire and
set my heart in bronze
I climb because the ground
will not close its mouth.
My tail is not pride—
it is a signal flare
for anything still breathing.
The stone keeps its silence.
I keep my balance.
Between us
is what happened.
-Alazaih
Eternal Silence
The thumb of the sculptor, shaping a moment.
A carefully carved ridge, back arched,
claws out. No sign of fear, no sign of doubt.
Twilight surrenders as dawn arrives.
There she stays, hidden inside.
Her muscles tense, they all stare.
But her gaze cuts through time,
completely aware.
So she lies, waiting.
Not for the skitter
of a squirrel or the creak of a quiet deer.
Instead at peace in the weight
of the mountain’s own bone.
Atlas a white marble dream,
that is never alone.
-Alysandra Acevedo
Jim Vogel, High Stakes, oil on canvas panels framed in antique saloon doors, 24 x 15 and 5.25 x 15 in.
Pancho Villa wrestles with the hand of fate and loses, then threatens Elfego Baca with a bounty upon his head of three-quarters of a million dollars (in today’s USD) and curses Elfego ad infinitum
High Stakes Such As These
In the alabaster scowl etched into Pancho Villa’s vanquished eyes, we can’t detect the tears it takes to turn from man to myth. Impossible to taste the clods of earth kicked up on heart-pounding raids criss-crossing the (New) Mexican mesas, thighs thrashed by mesquite branches, voice slaked by war cries rallying comrades to rise against aristocrats and conglomerates come to pilfer his people’s land. Deep in the bedrock beyond the whites of Pancho’s eyes, there exists the revolution any man must undertake to make something worthwhile from the pile of detritus our lives begin in. High stakes such as these we can’t perceive upon first glance.
And how much do we see of a man by looking at his hands? Pancho draws a card from the deck of life – what turns up, what comes into hand shapes his next play, wends the riprapped path of his life. “A man who cheats at cards, cheats at life,” my father counseled me as he walloped me once again in a well-played cribbage hand. At fifteen, the gears of my revolution hadn’t begun cranking yet. Still, as he tallied his score, “15-2, 15-4, double run for a dozen,” he’d assert, “There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch,” and smirk. Lessons in life come at a price.
With a sure thing, two-pair-aces-high, Pancho’s luck was looking up. Still, looks lie, and fate is a card that hasn’t been flipped over yet. His frenemy, Elfego Baca, a man who knows what it’s like to hold the world in his hand, smirks. The night’s silver stacked before the men meant nothing, as dead-eyed Elfego flips the missing club. Flush with anger, Pancho flashes the finger of fate and curses Elfego, his ancestors, kin from his loins to come, and swears, I’ll get my rifle back.
How much of a man can we discern from his hands? Drawing a card from the deck of life is the razor’s edge of becoming. How shall we spin our tale, begin our imminent revolution? Are we the ones who lost and are forced to fight to save face? Or the ones who got the gun and got away? Beware: the hand of fate, black and uncontained as a hurricane,hovers over us, and like Pancho’s fat finger, threatens, waits to crush us into dust. Bet strategically. We play for high stakes.
–Mark Heinlein
