Every time you work, you have to do it all over again, to rid yourself of this dross. I suppose for a person who is not an artist or not attempting art, it is not dross, because it is the common exchange of everyday life.
quote by Carl Andre
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Dross coins and wealth
i.
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
You wallow in them
You think of them again, again
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
Dross coins and wealth
One even grey a blank vacant sterility.
ii.
Round the green hill
The rivulet glideth:
The birds flieth
The owl singeth
How happy is the earth to-day!
iii.
From the small dale
The shepherd voice ariseth
Into a sweet canticle
As the day falleth
As the red dusk cometh
And night in mantle dark
By the next dale is coming
Coming fast:
Coming fast
Like sleep
Sleep
Sleep
Welcome sleep
The night cometh
The skies are darkening:
The stars are twinkling
And one by one
Coming like Morpheus with his wand
Into the next sleep beginning
The eye-lids how drowsy lie
And flicker like torch-lights
Slowly
Slowly
Slowly
Mor pheus is breathing slow
His hot and wanton breath
Over my forehead:
So sleep cometh, welcome sleep.
And dream I with open eyes
And through the night
Look I upon the stars in sleep
And dreaming wake and waking dream again.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Doubt and Dismay
Confidence God shall give to you, through His Word, for He is true,
Feelings and emotions change, but, God’s Word remains the same,
A security from God shall come, to everyone who trusts in His Son,
Through His Spirit in your Heart, who once there, shall never depart.
When we believe, we are sealed, as by God we’re spiritually healed,
And when sealed, we belong to Him, this friend, despite all your sin.
Although we are men of but dust, in God’s Holy Word, we can trust,
In regards to His Eternal Promises, which The Lord has given to us.
With all the insecurity that we face, we can put trust in God’s Grace,
As Satan only wants to deceive; painting doubts on all you believe.
God’s truth is no one is secure, without the work of Christ our Lord,
Who finished the work on Calvary, gaining new life for you and me.
All Christ’s work on Calvary’s cross, covers our sins and our dross,
And friend, all of us God will refine, removing the dross in His time.
For all of the work has been done, for our salvation, by God’s Son,
All we must do is trust in Christ, and God then grants us eternal life.
Sowing doubt is just Satan’s ploy, only to rob us of God given joy,
And believers can never doubt away, all that Christ did on that day,
So do not listen to Satan at all, for next to Christ, he is quite small,
But focus solely on The Lord, and your confidence will be restored.
(Copyright ©03/2008)
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fire. (Sonnet II.)
Not without fire can any workman mould
The iron to his preconceived design,
Nor can the artist without fire refine
And purify from all its dross the gold;
Nor can revive the phoenix, we are told,
Except by fire. Hence if such death be mine
I hope to rise again with the divine,
Whom death augments, and time cannot make old.
O sweet, sweet death! O fortunate fire that burns
Within me still to renovate my days,
Though I am almost numbered with the dead!
If by its nature unto heaven returns
This element, me, kindled in its blaze,
Will it bear upward when my life is fled.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Painted House Is Like A Poem.
In a way-A house painter is like a poet...
The house painter or average person just might not know it.
A lot of cleaning, sanding and preparation of the surface takes care and time...
Compositions, editing and thought polishes the rhyme.
When finished, they both are a work of art...
A lot of sweat and work is done by the artist's own part.
In the end, a finished polished piece...
Makes the artist, happy and at peace.
The work is finally done...
What hard work, finished-Now
feelings of enjoyed fun.
poem by Michael Gale
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Reflections on Reflections Play
Poets finger frequencies chromatic
which few imagine, fuse into our days,
highlight dross in unexpected ways
turn common hieroglyphs to gold syllabic.
Poets tune to wavelengths which, harmonic,
impressions fleeting turn to interplays
outside Time transformed, for image stays
as fly in amber, glowing, flowing, tonic
despite enchroaching Time’s invasion chronic.
Reflections on reflections play. Relays,
found unbound, may colour in life’s greys,
unpick the spirit’s drawbridge lock symbolic,
depict emotions which, with rainbow tint,
may move, may pain remove, and joy imprint....
poem by Jonathan Robin
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This administration affects the everyday life of the common person.
quote by Al Jourgensen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like The Shadow
Consider the lilies and learn from them,
For this sickness around your people is spreading out from person to person!
And like the shadow of terrorism without a clue,
But your eyelashes are there to be seen.
Of the innocent children to stage a play on this issue,
Because the youth are aborting pregnancies like the pagan antiquities!
And to hide under a married man's bed is now the news of the town,
But having three eyes and three breasts means a lot! !
This epic win is like a snake eating a frog,
But purely purge away your dross before coming to me!
Forn it takes a village to train a child,
But consider the lilies and learn from them.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Love Is Nothing
You thought I was something from afar
You thought Id totally excite you
I guess its just another thing to stand up close and ignite you
Love is nothing, nothing, nothing like they say
You gotta pick up the little pieces everyday
You were telling me the friends we have in common
By the time I figured it out you were yawning
Love is nothing, nothing, nothing like they say
You gotta get up and work the people everyday
And I thought,
Who am i?
Whos this guy?
Would I lie to make the day blur into the night?
Love is nothing, nothing, nothing like they say
You gotta pick up the little pieces everyday
Love is nothing, nothing, nothing like they say
You gota get up and work the people everyday
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Local Outsider
To the local community he is not one of their own
And apart from them in every way he has grown
He does not share their interests of work, sports, small talk, drinking and football
In fact with them in common he has nothing at all.
He works in the big town some twenty miles away
But he returns to his home in the small town every day
Single in his mid twenties in the peak of his prime
And he does feel happy at least most of the time.
A spiritual person and an artist at heart
In community meetings and projects he never takes part
He draws and sketches at night and his art readily sell
And as a hobby artist he is doing well.
He was born in the small town but it does seem sad to say
That as a local outsider he is destined to stay
Even with those he grew up with little in common he share
He is an endangered species and his type are rare.
He is not a student of sports or football
And who won last year's Grand Final he does not recall
And though his praises none of the other locals do sing
He is his own man and he does his own thing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Whistle Ow'r The Lave O't
My mither sent me tae the moss
For to gaither peats and dross.
I cowpit the cairt and hanged the horse
An whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the well
Better her had gaen hersel'.
I fell ower and broke my pail,
An' whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the sea
For tae gaither mussels three,
A sailor lad fell in wi' me
An' whistle ow'r the lave o't.
My mither sent me tae the moss
For tae gaither peats and dross.
I cowpit the cairt and hanged the horse,
And whistle ow'r the lave o't.
poem by Robert Burns
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Dross
You have vilated her that was set apart in her ceremonial uncleanness,
And you have lewdly defiled your daughter-in-law;
For you have fallen because of your iniquity! !
And you've become dross to me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Driven
To sift the dross so patiently
to sluice for the hard-won gold
those little flakes of wonder
that for no price are sold.
They are no gift that man may give
by no mortal may be owned
a life of selfless sacrifice, dedicated live
so the genetic seed is shown.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At fifteen one is first beginning to realize that everything isn't money and power in this world, and is casting about for joys that do not turn to dross in one's hands.
quote by Robert Benchley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hero To You Not A Hero To Me
Suppose we all do look at things differently
The hero to you not a hero to me
Your hero renowned for his skills at football
Yet the hero to some not a hero to all
If on everything we did happen to agree
How utterly boring indeed we would be
Our different ways makes us more interesting as some like to say
No two look at life in exactly in the same way
You have your own hero and that suits me fine
But your sort of hero could never be mine
Of our different views on life I am all too aware
And so little in common we do have to share
We don't share common friends or we don't share common foes
Which makes us seem more interesting one would have to suppose.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Common Sense Is Missing
Common Sense?
If it is so common,
Why is it so rarely displayed?
People who succeed academically...
Sometimes find it hard to mix
With those who are suppose to lack
A worldly knowledge and quick wit!
Those who spend their lives in books...
May have minds of intelligence,
But few know how to cook!
Or know how to hold a conversation...
Without returning an 'all knowing' look!
With a raised eyebrow...
And a half smile crooked!
And common sense is missing.
That is realized before a word is said!
There is something about spontaneity...
Many find difficult to express from their heads!
Or able to exchange...
When brains are prepared to regurgitate,
Details obtained about 'historical' ancient remains!
And common sense...
If there's any left,
Is not expected to come from the lips
Of minds so far removed, dull and shamefully inept!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What the eyes perceive in herbs or stones or trees is not yet a remedy; the eyes see only the dross.
quote by Paracelsus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In any case, his judgment and set of values, acting alone or through his assistants, determine not only what is gold and what is dross but the design of the history which he creates out of the metal. The historian decides what is significant, and what is not.
quote by Samuel E. Morison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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