I know that a lot of people profess to dislike ekphrastic poems on principle. But while I don't very often enjoy poems-about-poetry (unless they're on the surface level about something else altogether, like Alicia's wonderful bat sonnet), I've always had a weakness for poems inspired by a work of art or a piece of music. Maybe it's because there's a natural tension or challenge involved in the translation of a non-verbal art into words. It's a bit like translation from another language in that it requires a certain humility from the poet, a willingness to give him or herself over to the vision of another artist and often, of another time or culture as well.
Lots of fine examples on this thread already ("Rachmaninoff" is one of my favorites by Rhina). Here's one by Leslie Monsour, from her chapbook Travel Plans. It's the first of a pair of sonnets on Mary Cassatt paintings.
Patience
After Young Thomas and His Mother--pastel
She props him on the couch after his nap.
He's damp and warm. He whimpers, will she let
Him see her necklace? Afternoons are wet
And heavy since July. He finds her lap
Too sweltering, her dress does not feel nice
Against his skin. He much prefers the cold
Metallic chain, the locket made of gold.
She sniffs his tender arm, that sweet, rare spice.
He's glad Papa has gone away for now--
Mama reclines her head and pays no heed
To passing time, dexterity or speed.
Unlike Papa's "Let me. I'll show you how,"
She quietly lets him try. The halves divide
A little world with ticking hands inside.
Good to have you back, Alicia!
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