No doubt the artist is the child of his time; but woe to him if he is also its disciple, or even its favorite.
quote by Friedrich Schiller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
My Favorite Time
My favorite time of morning
Is that time of morning when
I have a cup of warm coffee in my hands
And the sun barely peeks over the land
When the day is yet unwritten
When I am alone in the quiet
With thoughts of you
To keep me company
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the day
Is that time of day when
I hear your voice or see your words
And I know you are engaged in me
As I am engaged in you
As I am replete with thoughts of you
Warm thoughts of you
Across the miles
At my favorite time
My favorite time of the night
Is that time of night when
I close my eyes and dream of you
And my dreams are vivid, sweet and real
In them we are together
In them there is no yesterday or tomorrow
Only a never ending today
With you always
At my favorite time
So my favorite time really
Is that real time
I am privileged to think of you
And to know that no matter what
You are all I could ever want
You are all I will ever need
In a partner, friend and love
I know this now because with you I am always
In my favorite time
poem by David Terry
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The True Disciple (For Hune)
the true disciple,
wearing the robes of doubt...
dividing the atoms of the soul,
searching for fibers that connect.
exploring universes of question,
whetted by the blade of truth;
to immerse in 'i and thou'...
crossing the final desert
to the promised land!
the true disciple,
follows his own footsteps!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Disciple
He that hath a Gospel
To loose upon Mankind,
Though he serve it utterly--
Body, soul and mind--
Though he go to Calvary
Daily for its gain--
It is His Disciple
Shall make his labour vain.
He that hath a Gospel
For all earth to own--
Though he etch it on the steel,
Or carve it on the stone--
Not to be misdoubted
Through the after-days--
It is His Disciple
Shall read it many ways.
It is His Disciple
(Ere Those Bones are dust )
Who shall change the Charter,
Who shall split the Trust--
Amplify distinctions,
Rationalize the Claim;
Preaching that the Master
Would have done the same.
It is His Disciple
Who shall tell us how
Much the Master would have scrapped
Had he lived till now--
What he would have modified
Of what he said before.
It is His Disciple
Shall do this and more....
He that hath a Gospel
Whereby Heaven is won
( Carpenter, or cameleer,
Or Maya's dreaming son ),
Many swords shall pierce Him,
Mingling blood with gall;
But His Own Disciple
Shall wound Him worst of all!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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My Favorite Girl
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl, dont you know,
My favorite girl, oh, shes my favorite girl.
You walked into my life, your love was so new,
And nothing will ever change my feelings for you,
Well, you were so far away, now I am close to you, girl,
So let us run away, our heart thats waiting will stay.
My favorite...
Theres so much I like in you I cant go on,
I wanted a girl like you Ive looked so long,
Girl, nothing will make us wrong, I know our love is too strong,
Lets leave the rest behind, our dreams ask what we will find.
My favorite...
My favorite...
(rap:) shes my favorite girl, the one Im always thinking of, that one.
(rap:) my favorite girl, the one I love.
My favorite... (repeat & fade ad lib)
song performed by by New Kids On The Block
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Favorite Girl
Funny how things don’t seem to ever change
Now that I see you I’m transformed I am not the same
I know all the parts of you cause you’re my favorite girl
Because of everything you do you’re my favorite girl
Good things come and good things go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl
I've tried so hard to move forward
But I keep on moving back
I’m stuck in some odd time warp
On an elusive track
Your a sacred pearl cause your my favorite girl
There’ no sanctuary in this world but your my favorite girl
People come and people go
we only have today Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl
Its the same old story But damn if it don’t make you cry
Boy meets girl than loses her for no reason why
In my heart, nothing should matter except you’re my favorite girl
The whole universe could shatter you’d still be my favorite girl
People come and people go
We only have to day
Baby baby you stole the show
Baby baby you stole the show
Tomorrow who knows
You’re my favorite you’re my favorite girl
poem by Harlan Lovestone
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Hit Me Like You Did The First Time
Go, people wanna know
All the pleasures of
Ive got my favorite place
You know just what to say
Hit me like the first time
All of your friends go there
Theyre not like me
I got my favorite place
You know just what to say
Kill me like you did the first time
Come on now (3x)
Hit me like the first time
Mount this heavy snow
Its warm like a winter coat
Thats my favorite place
cause you know just what to say
Kiss me like you did the first time
Come on now (8x)
song performed by by Flaming Lips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Miserable Dreamer
My favorite dream…
Is the one that I have every night
Is the one that leaves me crying when I wake up
I dream…
Of your clear blue eyes
Of you
My favorite dream is the one that makes me miserable
My favorite dream…
Is one that always turns into a nightmare
Is one that reminds me that you left me
I dream…
Of your laugh
Of you
My favorite dream is one that makes my miserable
My favorite dream…
Is one that makes me relive every second I spent with you (good & bad)
Is one that makes me smile and cry at the same time
I dream…
Of your hugs
Of you
My favorite dream is one that makes me miserable
I don’t care if I’m miserable when I wake up…
At least I get to spend time with you…
If not just only in my dreams…
poem by Nikki Taboada
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Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between You And Me
I already know the deal AND routine.
So there is nothing...
Nothing at all,
You have to prove to me!
UNLESS...
You are absolutely convinced,
Pleasing me with a brand new Mercedes,
Will remove every single doubt...
You may perceive I have.
And make that with a supply of gasoline.
An all paid expense account,
To use at my leisure.
And...
Let's see,
An incredible deliverance of all my foolish desires met.
At 'my' convenience.
And,
Oh yes!
You needn't doubt my undying love and devotion,
Faithfully kept at all times.
I'll keep this between you and me.
Just in case someone else thinks,
You've chosen me as your most favorite child...
From all the many millions you have created.
Deal?
'Or...? '
Or?
OR what?
'No deal.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Value Fever Pitch: An Artist’s Time
Bhoman F Jamhari said
'I am an artist - This does not
mean I will work for free.
I have bills just like you.
Thank you for understanding.'
Polite and to the problematic point.
Anyone who thinks believes
an artist’s time is worthless,
is definitely a person an artist
should avoid; such individuals
cannot comprehend
or remotely understand
aesthetic value of art.
Art takes time to produce.
Vision and artistic skill takes
even longer to realize to attain
expanding horizons. Time costs.
Artists of differing genre value
appreciate each other and art
which suits their temperament.
To create art
is the life blood
of an artist.
The air we breathe
is the home of art.
Creativity is our fevered mind songs
we sing in a legacy of image visions.
What kind of a con artist wants
to steal bread from an artist’s mouth;
therefore limiting the quality quantity
of future works of art, to be produced
by that artist. Answer an enemy of art.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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If I'm out trailriding, I have a favorite motorcycle. Riding on the road, I've got a favorite. If I'm jumping, I have a favorite, and if I'm racing, I have a favorite.
quote by Evel Knievel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Favorite Memory
The first time we met is a favorite memory of mine
They say time changes all it pertains to
But your memory is stronger then time
I guess everything does change except
What you choose to recall
There's a million good day dreams to dream on
But baby your my favorite memory of all
Like the night we first got together on our bench
And held each other tight
Like the winter we spent together
Helping each other and closer then ever
And I remember our special times together
And our walks and our lost time together
It was always you who made the whole time a ball
It was you who called me just to hear my voice
Theres a million good times
I could dwell on
But baby you are my favorite memory of all
and you'll always be my favorite memory.
poem by connie Engstrom
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A Child Should Have A Pet
Every little child should have a pet -
And be responsible for its care and to love,
A dog, a bunny, a parakeet, a pony, a turtle,
Or any other pet not mentioned above.
Sometimes a child views a parent as indifferent
And being overwhelmed each busy day
With their own job and domestic problems -
Having a minimal amount of time for play.
A child is sensitive and curious
And often is anxious to know
that something in the environment
Needs extensive care to live and grow.
So implant in the mind of each child
A determined and a burning wish
For something to love and care for,
Even if it means an aquarium of tropical fish.
Whatever gift you contemplate giving to a child,
Oh parents! Please don't foolishly forget
To make a child's life full and complete -
Encourage a child to own their favorite pet.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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No Doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt... no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt
You should know by now that I really like when youre around
Its so irreplaceable, what we have with you and i
And you should know by now that we belong on each others team
One of the greatest things that came to be is you and me, you and me
I hope by now you recognize no matter what Im here for life
You aint getting rid of me, that is just the bottom line
I think you understand by now we can always work it out
No matter what, Im down, Im down
There aint no doubt that I still love you
No doubt I love you babe, really really love you babe
There aint no doubt that I still want you
No doubt I want you babe, really really want you babe
Shouldnt be no doubt that Im here for you
No doubt Im here for you, really really here for you
I have no doubt about being with you
Its me for you
Thinking back on what I did to cause you so much pain
It was such a silly thing I did to our relationship
But heres something from the heart, I really do apologize
Dont cut me off cause I really love ya
I love ya babe, love ya babe
And I want ya, I want ya babe, want ya babe
Said Im here for ya, for ya babe, for ya babe
Forever Im with you, Im with you
Baby cant you see you belong with me
Ill be here for you so Im telling you
There aint no doubt that I still love you
No doubt I love you babe, really really love you babe
There aint no doubt that I still want you
No doubt I want you babe, really really want you babe
Shouldnt be no doubt that Im here for you
No doubt Im here for you, really really here for you
I have no doubt about being with you
Its me for you
[spoken]
Look baby, I want you to know I love you
And I always will.. dont worry, cause you know...
There aint no doubt that I still love you
No doubt I love you babe, really really love you babe
There aint no doubt that I still want you
No doubt I want you babe, really really want you babe
Shouldnt be no doubt that Im here for you
No doubt Im here for you, really really here for you
I have no doubt about being with you
Its me for you
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt... no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt, no doubt, no doubt
You should know
No doubt, no doubt
song performed by by Nivea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't care who's playing. Even if it's my favorite artist, I'm probably not gonna go and see him.
quote by Etta James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Prayer On Child Abuse
Dear God Above
Bless the children that need your love
Bless the lives that are about to end
Caused by a stranger, relative, or even a friend
Children sometimes become confused
That's no reason for them to be abused
Children shouldn't be considered a game,
Nor should your child feel shame
To play with their favorite toy
Like any other girl or boy
Child abuse is a serious crime
But it happens all of the time
If the child is too much trouble
Please send help there on the double
Please don't take the child away
Because someone got angry today
But if these precious children should have to die
Please take them to your home in the sky.
poem by Ginny Cadle
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The Child, The Man And The Old Man....
i look at the child
at the farther nook of a old house.
there is no chair and beside the door
is a box, it is empty
and the child in fear
took its hiding there
a favorite place
safety box, safe house,
the four corners are
so silent
and the child is happy
asleep in a moment.....
time travels like horses with wings.
there is a man
with a long bird his toenails
are long, no time to cut them
it throat is swollen
bacterial infection again
or the weather changes
cold this time then hot in
a moment
dusts all over the place
and white painted houses
it is lonely, child and man
at the same time
and not one of him speaks
they become one box
and one flap opens to
a sky
always there are
no extra hands. it is reality.
there is an old man
with words of thread
sewing upon its lips.
there is a very dark night.
the child, the man and the old man
are asleep
inside a box, safe and
silent.
there is no morning.
it is final.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A True Disciple
a true disciple listens
and takes every word of the great teacher
patiently he takes note of
the errors committed and corrects them
the teacher points out the room
for improvement and the true disciple enters the door of wisdom
he takes carefully each criticism
and creates what he thinks is more beautiful to the
heart and makes a record of what should
have been and ought to be
and then the right time comes for blooming
the true disciple unfolds his own creation like the petals of the lotus
at the middle of the murky pond and then finally
exudes his own perfection under the bright sheen of
the mighty sun of the new day smiling
more deserving now and as bright as ever diamond-like
another new spring rising higher than its source
the teacher by his side like the wind hushing
applauding and bowing before him
so pleased is his heart and then in a moment passing him by.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Finn's Favorite Fish (Long Tongue Twister)
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fell flat.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for fluid.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fed Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish falls for Finn's favorite fish's favorite food.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food falls for Finn's favorite fish.
Finn's favorite fish's favorite food fills Finn's favorite fish.
Finn fishes for Finn's favorite fish's favorite fish food for Finn's favorite fish!
poem by Rebecca Ryan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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