The author of genius does keep till his last breath the spontaneity, the ready sensitiveness, of a child, the "innocence of eye" that means so much to the painter, the ability to respond freshly and quickly to new scenes, and to old scenes as though they were new; to see traits and characteristics as though each were new-minted from the hand of God instead of sorting them quickly into dusty categories and pigeon-holing them without wonder or surprise; to feel situations so immediately and keenly that the word "trite" has hardly any meaning for him; and always to see "the correspondences between things" of which Aristotle spoke two thousand years ago.
quote by Dorothea Brande
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Illusion
In a forest known as heartbreak
In a clearing in the wood
cross a pathway called confusion
Toward the garden of delight
Youll reach the river of desire
And meekly try and cross it
While the valley of love
Keeps avoiding you
Because its only an illusion
Only an illusion
Upon the hill of high ideals
You begin to wonder if its real
You are reaching sleeps oasis
You begin to wonder how you feel
But it happens so quickly
It doesnt fit into your scenes
Tossin and turnin
The star of so many scenes
Its only an illusion
Its only an illusion
song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~ Aristotle ~ Niv ~
~ Aristotle ~ Niv ~
Ms. Nivedita
UK
29 September 2010.
Aristotle siphoning ~
Only thing I know
I know nothing.
Niv quipping ~
Why I know everything
Of nothing?
Aristotle viewing ~
It’s we see
By means of eyes.
Niv previewing ~
Eyes can’t see if what
Of we is absentee?
Aristotle employing ~
All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind
Niv unemploying ~
How paid jobs bunk and degrade mind?
Aristotle saccharining ~
Change in all things is sweet
Niv bittering ~
For sweetening why change things?
Aristotle teaching ~
Education is the best provision for old age
Niv rejoindering ~
Does education proviso promoter of old age?
Aristotle positing ~
Happiness depends upon ourselves
Niv dis-positing ~
What of ourselves not owning happiness?
Aristotle mystifying ~
In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.
Niv questing ~
Why not marvelousness in every thing in nature?
To Aristotle ~ We owe why?
For Niv ~ We low blow all awe why?
Readers ~ You?
~~~
Copyright reserved by author.
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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You have the right to feel, you are successful
Success, sweet success
Success, it is waiting for you
To own and hold on to it
Success of any kind
Has easy access
If you are after it restlessly
Success is not indeed the end
It is the beginning of a
New chain of successes
Simple it is to be successful
So simple, you wonder how many of us are not at it
It all depends on what you feel
Success means to you
You may school your thoughts
And train your emotions
To feel successful on everything
That happens around you
Your retention of all your
Physical, mental and social abilities
Is indeed your success
Your ability to make friends
And help them out in times of need
Is indeed your success
Your ability to keep your cool
In emotionally competing events
And situations
Is indeed your success
Your ability to make your ends meet
Come over challenges, emotional or otherwise
At the right time and in a rightful manner
Is indeed a success
Your ability to stand up
And hold on to your values
Is indeed a success
Your ability to be able to
Discharge your assigned responsibilities
Is indeed your success
Your ability to objectively assess
People and events
Without painting them subjectively
Is indeed your success
Your ability to stay most of your time positive
Progressive and productive
Creative and innovative
Is indeed your success
Your ability to hold on to
Your original traits
Without succumbing to the temptations
Of becoming someone else
Is indeed your success
If this forms your scale to measure success
You have the right to feel
You are successful
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Visit
I went to visit you the other day,
a bunch of fresh cut flowers in my hand.
I only had a little time to spend-
Still you, I think, were glad to have me there.
I spoke about my troubles in your presence
You listen with an ever patient ear
You remind me that all trials are transient
That nothing dries as quickly as a tear.
Now that you and Mom are back together-
I can’t believe already it’s a year-
As often happens with long married hearts.
Does nothing dry as quickly as a tear?
With pain, I raise myself up from my knee
I say farewell with none around to hear
It’s just a lie we tell ourselves, my Da
That nothing dries as quickly as a tear.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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The Careless Word
A WORD is ringing thro' my brain,
It was not meant to give me pain;
It had no tone to bid it stay,
When other things had past away;
It had no meaning more than all
Which in an idle hour fall:
It was when first the sound I heard
A lightly uttered, careless word.
That word--oh! it doth haunt me now,
In scenes of joy, in scenes of woe;
By night, by day, in sun or shade,
With the half smile that gently played
Reproachfully, and gave the sound
Eternal power thro' life to wound.
There is no voice I ever heard,
So deeply fix'd as that one word.
When in the laughing crowd some tone,
Like those whose joyous sound is gone,
Strikes on my ear, I shrink--for then
The careless word comes back again.
When all alone I sit and gaze
Upon the cheerful home-fire blaze,
Lo! freshly as when first 'twas heard,
Returns that lightly uttered word.
When dreams bring back the days of old;
With all that wishes could not hold;
And from my feverish couch I start
To press a shadow to my heart--
Amid its beating echoes, clear
That little word I seem to hear:
In vain I say, while it is heard,
Why weep?--'twas but a foolish word.
It comes--and with it come the tears,
The hopes, the joys of former years;
Forgotten smiles, forgotten looks,
Thick as dead leaves on autumn brooks,
And all as joyless, though they were
The brightest things life's spring could share.
Oh! would to God I ne'er had heard
That lightly uttered, careless word!
It was the first, the only one
Of those which lips for ever gone
Breathed in their love--which had for me
Rebuke of harshness at my glee:
And if those lips were here to say,
'Beloved, let it pass away,'
Ah! then, perchance--but I have heard
The last dear tone--the careless word!
Oh! ye who, meeting, sigh to part,
Whose words are treasures to some heart,
Deal gently, ere the dark days come,
When earth hath but for one a home;
Lest, musing o'er the past, like me,
They feel their hearts wrung bitterly,
And, heeding not what else they heard,
Dwell weeping on a careless word.
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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We pass now quickly from each other's sight; but I know full well that where beyond these passing scenes you shall be, there will be Heaven.
quote by Joshua Chamberlain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trivialities- Not To Me
I've collected many a trivial thing
and kept them in a box.
Occasionally I will look at them
and my memory it unlocks.
They have no value to anyone else
but to me they've found a place
to bring back a scene I remember
to put a smile upon my face.
If someone finds this box someday
and wonders 'what is this? '
Before they discard all these things
there's something they would miss.
They'd miss what these little things did
for the one that left them behind.
For never could they picture the scenes
nor could they ever find
how these trivialities in the box
were only special to see
by the one that lived the scenes they were from
for I took those scenes with me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Ignoble Achievement
Conflicting ideals create chaos in the mind,
on the one hand, nobility of self-discipline
and virtue of patience - I tried to acquire
these virtues when I was small - and -
Found it impossible - on the other hand,
the spontaneity of creative fun, finding
happiness in unbridled activity; how to
reconcile dreams of Biblical discipline
With spontaneity - self-discipline requires the
sacrifice of short-term advantages and lesser
goals for long-term benefits, creating a need
for wisdom to know what are these – yet
Love, unconditional acceptance of what-is, still
is the highest ideal; though subject to insight,
knowing which deeds will benefit others and
which won’t – this requires quiet reflection
Violating the rights of others in serving our loved
ones always has bad effects because the means
simply becomes the end - using ignoble means
to achieve a noble purpose quickly degrades
The achievement to the ignoble also, the saddest
effect of any human deed - and -
where does this leave me?
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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What might be taken for a precocious genius is the genius of childhood. When the child grows up, it disappears without a trace. It may happen that this boy will become a real painter some day, or even a great painter. But then he will have to begin everything again, from zero.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This hearing came about very quickly. I do have a few preliminary comments, but I suspect you're more interested in asking questions, and I'll be happy to respond to those questions to the best of my ability.
I'd like to be played as a child by Natalie Wood. I'd have some romantic scenes as Audrey Hepburn and have gritty black-and-white scenes as Patricia Neal.
quote by Gloria Steinem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paintings
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents, and the time
we thought is lost
forever in time
Second Version
--
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents and geniuses
overheated talents
that drove them lunatics,
madmen manoevring
with the coldness
of the arctics
volcanoes that explode
splotches, dashes
splashes, onto the
canvas of their dreams
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
paintings, they bring back
all the years nature plods on
against adversities to help
the artist pour out its best onto canvas
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Dance Quickly Now
-
Dance, I said to the boy in the glass
Staring back at me with a darkening mask
Dance, I begged, with love and pain
Dance, please dance, oh dance again
-
Dance with the moon in the child’s eye
Circling the middle as black as coal
Dance quickly now, its leaving soon
Light of the moon and the child’s soul
Dance with the sun in the child’s laugh
Bouncing round off sinister things
Dance quickly now, with crystal prism
Scattering wisdom, melting wings
Dance with the rain in the child’s tear
Watching the clouds attack then stop
Dance quickly now, the storm has shattered
All that mattered, with a single drop
Dance with the hope in his stuttered speech
Holding it close for a later year
Dance quickly now, before he serves
Nonsense words, in a busted mirror
-
Though the moon may spin and the sun revolve
Though love still waits and the rain still falls
Though the child may laugh he glares inside
Exhaling life with a sudden sigh
-
poem by Ben Paynter
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Sleepless Tears
Unburden your load.
You can not show,
How you feel.
With depth and meaning.
You've got to scheme.
Those scenes scream for longing,
For you to join...
The inside of your heart,
You've blocked and locked!
And have departed.
Unburden your load.
You can not show,
Something real.
And I want that shown.
Let us togerther,
Begin to heal!
I don't want envy,
Between us here so near.
Not if my needs for you keep,
Reappearing.
And that need clearly,
Invites my sleepless tears.
Unburden your load.
You can not show,
How you feel.
With depth and meaning.
You've got to scheme.
Those scenes scream for longing.
Just to show how strong,
We were.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I think there are a lot more relationship scenes in my movies that people tend to overlook. A lot of scenes really feel real and are about the characters.
quote by Jan de Bont
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Filming scenes like that are always odd but I feel comfortable with Josh and care about him a great deal, so it could be much worse. Scenes like that are just part of the job.
Stop Loving You
Reflections in my mind, thoughts I cant define
My heart is racing and the night goes on
I can almost hear a laugh, coming from your photograph
Funny how a look can share a thousand meanings
Well-intended lies, contemplating alibies
Is it really you, or is it me Im blaming
A distant memory flashes over me
Even though youre gone, I feel you deep inside
Dance beneath the light with that look in your eyes
Chorus:
I cant stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I wont stop till Im through loving you, girl
Theres a window in a heart, Ive tried to look through from the start
Youre never really sure what someone else is thinking
Someones broken something new, another altered point of view
Just a certain someones conscience playing
I held it in my hand, I did not understand
What lives inside the wind that cries her name
Tried to catch a shooting star, what seems so close cant be that far
Im living in a dream thats never ending
Dance beneath the light with that look in your eyes
Chorus:
I cant stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I wont stop till Im through loving you, girl
(instrumental break)
Dancing with that look thats in your eyes
Chorus:
I cant stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I wont stop till Im through loving you, girl
Chorus:
I cant stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I wont stop till Im through loving you, loving you...
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Once Having Had Common Sense
When one's mind has been blazed,
To value the blinging of shiny things...
And the ease of a quickly made dollar,
Who then martyrs themselves to announce...
That to worship such things,
Produces in the mind disaster?
Who today is foolish enough to do that?
Has anyone ever seen a rabid dog...
Wagging its tail with a wish to play?
Rarely do these scenes come to us,
To experience personally.
Without acknowledging some pain.
And an awakening to regain 'something'...SOMETHING,
That reminds one of once having had common sense.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Providential Escape
Providential escape of Ruby and Niel McLeod, children of Angus McLeod,
Ingersoll, little Neil McKay McLeod, a child three years of age, was carried
under a covered raceway, upwards of one hundred yards, the whole distance
being either covered over with roadway, buildings or ice.
A wonderous tale we now do trace,
Of little children fell in race ;
The youngest of these little dears,
The boy's age is but three years.
While coasting o'er the treacherous ice-
precious pearls of great price-
The elder Ruby, the daughter,
Was rescued from the ice cold water.
But horrid death each one did feel
Had sure befallen poor little Neil ;
Consternation did people fill,
And they cried 'shut down the mill.'
But still no person yet could tell
What had the poor child befel [sic] ;
The covered race, so long and dark,
Of hopes there scarcely seemed a spark.
Was he held fast as if in vice,
Wedged 'mong the timbers and the ice,
Or, was there for him ample room
For to float down the narrow flume?
Had he found there a watery grave,
Or been borne on crest of wave ?
Think of the mothers agony, wild,
Gazing through dark tunnel for her child.
But soon as Partlo started mill,
Through crowd there ran a joyous thrill,
When he was quickly borne along,
The little hero of our song.
Alas ! of life there is no trace,
And be is black all over face ;
Though he then seemed as if in death,
Yet quickly, they restored his breath.
Think now how mother she adored
Her sweet dear child, to her restored,
And her boundless gratitude
Unto the author of all good.
Swept through dark passage 'neath the road,
Saved only by the hand of God,
No wonder Father now feels proud
Of little Niel McKay McLeod.
poem by James McIntyre
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My Conscious Stays On Automatic
Sometimes I wish I could revisit my intentions.
And do a focus on my purpose,
With a prioritizing of my needs.
My conscious stays on automatic.
With a feeling to complete.
Even though I love to play...
I have a discipline to keep.
And to those who don't know what this means...
I can only say my mind is locked in a routine.
Everyday I must be challenged as a treat for me.
Everyday I must be doing something to succeed.
I'm not the kind to sit around and watch TV.
Or one to socialize in cliques to fit in those scenes.
I like to validate my life to prove meaning.
And doing those things for me that happiness brings.
Sometimes I wish I could revisit my intentions.
And do a focus on my purpose,
With a prioritizing of my needs.
But,
Everyday I must be challenged as a treat for me.
But,
Everyday I must be doing something to succeed.
I'm not the kind to sit around and watch TV.
Or one to socialize in cliques to fit in those scenes.
I like to validate my life to prove meaning.
And doing those things for me that happiness brings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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