This is the artist, then, life's hungry man, the glutton of eternity, beauty's miser, glory's slave.
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The Old Miser and his 3rd Wife
1
The Old Miser
my husband is dying
and he makes me promise
I must put all his money in his coffin
when he dies
“O my legal third wife
the only one surviving -
you must put all my money
secretly in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring away all the money
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
2
Now, he’s dead
and I’ve arranged for his funeral
and while everyone’s busy
with all these preparations
I dutifully take all his money
from the hiding place
which he whispered to me
with his last breath
and he bit my ear and he snarled:
“Put all my money
in my coffin”
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you want to bring all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
3
So I take all his money
and bring it to the bank
and deposit it in my name
and make a cheque out for 10 million
and put the cheque below his head
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
You made me suffer all my life
and now in your death
you can take all the money away
Sure thing, sure thing
you Old Miser!
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Slave
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
Listening for your footsteps
Just waiting like a fool
Burning with a fever
Only you can cool
The clock beside my pillow
Has ticked away the night
Like a heartbeat mocking me
Until the light
Gotta stop these thoughts about you
Gotta learn to live without you
Gotta find some freedom for this weary slave
cause Im hungry for you
And Im longing for you
And Im burning for you
I worship your opinions
I imitate your ways
I try to make you grace me
With a word of praise
However much I tell myself
That Im strong and free and brave
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Slave, nothing but a slave
Mind of a slave
Body of a slave
I find I gave away the soul
That I wanted you to save
Im just another woman
Raised to be a slave
Hungry for you
And longing for you
Burning for you
And Im longing for you
Burning for you
And Im yearning for you
Longing for you
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twa hungry meltiths makes the third a glutton.
Twa hungry meltithes makes the third a glutton.
Sonnet -Indelible Art?
How far an artist takes his art forward?
If labour hard is continued for long,
It dedication has not disappeared,
And Pride has not polluted his art’s song.
One's art improves if Will of God is there;
If Luck and Pluck come timely to his aid;
If vices poison not his mind to err;
And love enters his art when it is made.
For art lives longer than the artist's age;
And brings alive the beauty it derived;
All life, the artist must truly manage;
To perfect works of art in which he’d strived.
Such art alone will stand the test of time,
For it has made the Artist's life sublime.
poem by John Celes
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Ch 05 On Love And Youth Story 02
It is said that a gentleman possessed a slave of exquisite beauty, whom he regarded with love and affection. He nevertheless said to a friend: ‘Would that this slave of mine, with all the beauty and good qualities he possesses, had not a long and uncivil tongue!’ He replied: ‘Brother, do not expect service, after professing friendship; because when relations between lover and beloved come in, the relations between master and servant are superseded’:
When a master with a fairy-faced slave
Begins to play and to laugh
What wonder if the latter coquets like the master
And the gentleman bears it like a slave?
A slave is to draw water and make bricks.
A pampered slave will strike with the fist.
In search of beauty
Why is it so?
That beauty is an unfathomable mistress?
…like the uncertain truth…
Of a certain paradox…
The beauty of joy,
Is in its irony.
The beauty of smile,
In its tear.
The beauty of desire
Is in its incompletion.
The beauty of a poem,
In its vain-ness.
That of emotion,
In its numbness…
That of sorrow,
In its convalescence.
The beauty of past,
is in its eternity,
and that of future,
in its anonymity.
The beauty of beauty
Is in its ugliness…
That of life,
…in its death…
The beauty of
The search of it,
Is in its endlessness….
poem by Sarvesh Kulkarni
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Somebody Touched Me
(first release, live version portsmouth, england, september 24, 2000traditional, arranged by bob dylan)
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!
Would you please welcome columbia recording artist bob dylan.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
While I was praying, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Well, it was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
It was on a sunday, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Glory, glory, glory, somebody touched me,
Must have been the hand of the lord.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.
Kahlil Gibran in The Prophet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The First Artist and Author.
The first artist painted the sky with colors, such beauty,
Look at those sunsets, and the mountains, such reality;
The mountains, have shadows, of splendor that only the Master can do,
Yes! It's God who was the first Artist, and He also taught me too.
The first great artist painted the colors on the sea,
Blues, greens, aquas, Only one could do this you see;
And when there is a storm near, the sea goes so dark blue,
Yes! God is the first great artist, to paint it for me and you.
The first great Artist, loved to teach David to write poetry,
And also king Solomon, writing words of such beauty;
Oh such magnificent works, of color and in each word,
Yes! There is only one who could do this it is the Lord.
Then. We see in every rainbow, and in each shell as well,
Look at the colored sands, and in every bird, it does tell;
Then look at each animal, and also the petals of each flower too
Then as you look at these, , give Thanks for doing it for me and you.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Unashamed Art
The artist who hides the model's beauty
won't allow others to see
the beauty of the model who poses
hidden by drapery.
But the artist who describes the beauty
allows the model to be
adorned in the garment given by God
which is painted naturally.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Autumn leaves
In full autumn splendour the trees display
proclaiming the glory of God each passing day.
For The Divine Artist every year paints each tree
so that each person on earth His glory can see.
And when He has finished painting each one
He brings out their colour with the blazing sun.
Then using the wind to dislodge each leaf
He forms a carpet on the ground beneath.
He has given us eyes so that we can see
His glory and majesty in every tree.
Our God like an artist uses His creation
To show us of the way to His salvation.
For as the leaf fell to the ground and died
So Christ gave His life when crucified.
His blood flowed red like autumn leaves
and cleanses all who His love receives.
The Beauty Of A Poem
The beauty of a poem
The beauty of music
The beauty of light
The beauty of life
The beauty which makes us want to live life more
The beauty which pains us inside
The beauty in longing.
The beauty we come upon by surprise
The beauty of the day and the beauty of the night
The beauty we all have inside us
The beauty we can see and feel and never explain
The beauty that lifts us up
The beauty that makes us want to live more
The beauty that makes us reach out to God
The beauty we want to thank God for
The beauty of lilacs
The beauty of autumn leaves
The beauty of the people we love
The beauty that pervades life
The beauty that turns away from us
And will not let us be a part of it
The beauty we hold on to fragilely
As a driven leaf
The beauty the beauty the beauty
Oh life oh God of goodness oh death
The beauty we can never see
And the Beauty within us all
Oh God
The Beauty in us and Beyond us all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Beautiful You
Beauty is life when life unveils her holy face
But you beloved are life as well as the veil
Beauty is Eternity gazing at itself in the mirror
But you beloved are Eternity as well as the mirror
ROTMS
(Interpreted from the brilliance of Kahlil Gibran)
Read latest writings by ROTMS at
http: //rotms.blogspot.com/
poem by Ray Lucero
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Viewers are like artists.
An artist perceives, abstracts,
Concretize and present a form.
A viewer perceives, connects,
Abstracts and relate to real thing.
The beauty of the art enhances
From the style the artist employs.
The beauty of the art is understood
From the mind the viewers apply.
To be a viewer is as special as an artist.
All aren’t viewers as all aren’t artists.
14.05.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Sonnet
The worldly prince doth in his sceptre hold
A kind of heaven in his authorities;
The wealthy miser, in his mass of gold,
Makes to his soul a kind of Paradise;
The epicure that eats and drinks all day,
Accounts no heaven, but in his hellish routs;
And she, whose beauty seems a sunny day,
Makes up her heaven but in her baby's clouts.
But, my sweet God, I seek no prince's power,
No miser's wealth, nor beauty's fading gloss,
Which pamper sin, whose sweets are inward sour,
And sorry gains that breed the spirit's loss:
No, my dear Lord, let my Heaven only be
In my Love's service, but to live to thee.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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For Years/ A Miser Of Every Minute
FOR YEARS/ A MISER OF EVERY MINUTE
For years
A miser of every minute
For my work.
And now near old age
I understand
All that time given to works
Never to be read,
And so
A seeming tranquility.
If all my time wasted
Why be a miser
Any longer?
And yet,
What have I done?
Can I somehow still
Do something?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Enslaved
Alright alright this life is what you make it
Dont slide...you cant compromise
You click your heels 3 times imagination goes wild...
You cant analyze
So be sure that you are makin the best of what that you have
The truth is all within yourself
Dont be a slave ....a slave to someone else
Higher higher its where we want to be in our minds...
It will mesmerize
Its pleasure power thats what we devour....
You can have it crystallize
Now its time to look at what that youve done with your life
And that path you found and followed in
Yourself I wont be a slave...a slave to anyone
The question is
When its all done
Who will stand
And who will run
The answer is on my tongue
I wont be a slave to anyone
So be sure that you are makin the best of what you have
The truth is all within yourself
Dont be a slave....a slave to somone else
song performed by by Motley Crue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All through eternity
All through eternity
Beauty unveils His exquisite form
in the solitude of nothingness;
He holds a mirror to His Face
and beholds His own beauty.
he is the knower and the known,
the seer and the seen;
No eye but His own
has ever looked upon this Universe.
His every quality finds an expression:
Eternity becomes the verdant field of Time and Space;
Love, the life-giving garden of this world.
Every branch and leaf and fruit
Reveals an aspect of His perfection-
They cypress give hint of His majesty,
The rose gives tidings of His beauty.
Whenever Beauty looks,
Love is also there;
Whenever beauty shows a rosy cheek
Love lights Her fire from that flame.
When beauty dwells in the dark folds of night
Love comes and finds a heart
entangled in tresses.
Beauty and Love are as body and soul.
Beauty is the mine, Love is the diamond.
They have together
since the beginning of time-
Side by side, step by step.