Imagism

is a type of poetry that relies heavily on concrete images, much like the still life of painters.  Although typically short and an attempt at being void of any message, the simplicity itself often has something more to say.  Even among its founders there was room for derision.  Look for it here:

"The Red Wheelbarrow" by William Carlos Williams

Still Life by S.M.(M).L.

Those flowers in that vase.
That overflowing fruit bowl.

The window always open,
curtains blowing
a distant scenic view:
quaint town quieting
lapis water lapping
soundless snowflakes falling
     or, blossoms of an overgrown
     garden growing.
Sun always, just come up, or down.

The candles always but a stub; 
it must be up, after all.
A broken-open day glistening
on the partially peeled orange
the scent of certainty cloying
alongside wilting flowers.

No one is ever home 
having left in such a hurry.
Nature seeps in on a breeze:
fall leaves lie strewn
sometimes a lime green
parrot or elegant butterfly
alights among the petals.
Half camouflaged by brightness
but a nod that life exists.

Left in such disarray
exactly as it will be 
exactly as it was when
there was nothing but:
a chair by the window
a book on the sill
pen in the seam waiting,
     still.