The bad calligrapher is choosy about his brushes.
Related quotes
'Promiscuous' implies that I'm not choosy. In fact I'm very choosy. I just happen to have had a lot of choices.
quote by Jackie Weaver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People say I've had brushes with the law. That's not true. I've had brushes with overzealous prosecutors.
quote by Mark Duffy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Shopkeeper’s Story
I sell one bristle brushes. People
seeking two bristle brushes I send
to the guy on Amsterdam, who’s in a rush.
I may have one customer a year
for my one bristle brushes, a one-eyed
lover of tanagers, she may have
one dollar to spend in the moment
light’s neither day’s or night’s,
but one’s where infinity begins. Whoever
she is, she’s always painting barbules,
I’m always thinking, no one will notice
that they notice this, that her tanagers
move, that everything’s alive. We talk
care and feeding of the one
bristle brush. Care exists. I thrive.
Paintings by fliss IV Painted Words
You take My words
Brushes in hand
Blank canvas on stand
The curve of a woman
The strings of rust
The weeping guitar
In your brushes you trust.
From my words you summon
And bring to life
The poems I write
Guitar fading
Waiting to be held
Your art works amazing
poem by Robert Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you are desperate, you must not be choosy.
I'm very choosy! It drives my agent nuts.
quote by Anne Hathaway
Submitted by Diana Frone, MTTLC
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I see myself in the Jacuzzi
but not with your average floozie.
As I like some pizzaz
I may yet ask Mahnaz
they say beggars are usually choosy.
quote by by Herbert Nehrlich
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ecstasy (As You Sleep)
ecstasy,
sheds the skin,
comes out of the shell....
leaves the firelit cave,
for the darkness,
and shadows' whisper
among the trees....
takes the kiss of wind
over the door well latched....
jumps from the ledge
never knowing how deep
or how cold the water below!
walks the forbidden mile,
fights the battle already lost,
with the conviction of desire....
brushes the nipple with fingers
piano key walking.....
almost kissing with fingertips
well worn and sure....
blows on the rain wet ember
believing in fire....
brushes the hair from your face,
watching, as you sleep!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Well, I have a couple of projects in the pipeline, but I'm taking things slow for now and being choosy about the roles I take up. One thing I can assure you of is that you are going to see a lot of me!
quote by Natasha Henstridge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma
Knots and tangles in my hair,
grandma sitting on her chair,
me in front on a stool so low,
brushes and combs all in a row.
Grandma would wash it every day,
Saying 'We do this first, then you play.'
Waiting for the feel of every pull,
this became our ritual.
I anticipated every tug.
When we finished we would hug.
But before I'd leave she'd make a bow,
all different colors she'd use to show
that my hair was something she loved to see.
It was long and shiny black, like ebony.
I treasure her looks and the moments spent,
the combs, the brushes and her looks of content.
My grandma made me feel like a queen,
like the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
Now as my hair is turning gray
I remember the words she used to say,
'Sit down dolly and I'll comb your hair.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't see a lot of films. I'm quite choosy, but there's certain films that stick out.
quote by Christopher Eccleston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Age
my age is not a number.
it is the manner of gathering
words
now more careful and
choosy,
not really cool, but
just faithful
to the nuances of
every syllable
my age speaks only
for itself
since no one listens
and i am aware
about this incoming
calmness
the boring day
when you say
that i am more
irrelevant to your
presence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The fox goes through the corn and does not eat, but brushes it down with his tail.
Angela
Cant eat, cant sleep, cant seem to find time anymore
Somewhere she weeps, her hair gently brushes the floor
I know my way, I know that Ill find her somehow
Chorus:
Angela carries me back to the time
When I knew that her love was still mine
Angelas holding the child in her womb
And I pray that she will be calling soon
Cold moon, dark sky, Im watching my mind disappear
She sits alone, not knowing that I am so near
Why cant she hear my voice as I call out her name
Chorus
Its a silly situation, its just infatuation, no need to be sorry
Cant eat, cant sleep, cant seem to find time anymore
Somewhere she weeps, her hair gently brushes the floor
I know my way, I know that Ill find her somehow
Chorus
Its a silly situation, its just infatuation, no need to be sorry
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The butterfly that brushes against thorns will tear its wings.
Instead of using brushes all the time, try a palette knife to paint.
quote by Frank Bruno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I continue to get further away from the usual painter's tools such as easel, palette, brushes, etc.
quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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