A half dozen pictures would just about be enough for the life of an artist, for my life.
quote by Giorgio Morandi
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With a few flowers in my garden, half a dozen pictures and some books, I live without envy.
quote by Lope de Vega
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I remember when an editor at the National Geographic promised to run about a dozen of my landscape pictures from a story on the John Muir trail as an essay, but when the group of editors got together, someone said that my pictures looked like postcards.
quote by Galen Rowell
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I think there are a lot of pictures to make. I sometimes question whether I'm even an artist or just a painter. To me, the making of the pictures is the most important thing.
quote by Martin Mull
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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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I never read the life of any important person without discovering that he knew more and could do more than I could ever hope to know or do in half a dozen lifetimes.
quote by J.B. Priestley
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The hallway of every man's life is paced with pictures; pictures gay and pictures gloomy, all useful, for if we be wise, we can learn from them a richer and braver way to live.
quote by Sean O'Casey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Darling Is An Artist
My darling is an artist
who saves pictures, her impressions on a canvas
and sometimes deep things
are expressed by her mere words,
as she paints the sea green,
at times mother-of-pearl
or a dull blue
and I wonder how she does it?
With a brush she can warble
can charm and adorn things,
she can bring bewitching colours suddenly
to the early breaking day.
l'Envoi
My darling is an artist,
sometimes she muddles my whole life,
when her lips are sugary sweet
and she tells me the plain truth plainly.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pictures In The Sand
And Im gonna spend my time,
Drawing pictures in the sand for you.
And Im gonna ride the tide[? ],
And Im gonna make a rendezvous.
Sitting by the sea,
Sipping at my tea,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing message to you.
Pictures in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
There is nothing I would rather do (there is nothing I would rather do)
Than just sit here in the sand (drawing pictures in the sand)
And think of thinks Id like to say to you (I love you true)
Every single day (every single day)
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
(all together)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand.
If I didnt have a dime,
Would you still be loving me?
While I spend my whole life through,
Drawing pictures just for you.
But I could never draw my love,
Its so very hard to do.
Every single day,
I waste my time away,
Drawing pictures in the sand,
And writing messages to you.
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
Pictures in the sand. (do-bum, do-bum...)
Pictures in the sand. (drawing pictures in the sand)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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First Loves
Always our first love
is the one we remember most.
That love that seemed beyond our grasp
and always got away.
I remember my first love
and all the things I did to woo her.
The love letters that took
half a dozen envelopes to send,
and the things I bought her
that were all in vain.
We talked to one another
and that’s as far as it got,
no hugs and kisses there.
Then as fast as she entered my life,
she was gone from it.
I heard a few stories,
but never saw her again.
She alone has inspired
so many writings in my life
that I would dearly love to meet her just once again.
I have often thought of writing
to the old address where she lived,
but I know she doesn’t liver there anymore.
What happened to her
I could never rightly say,
for all I know
she could live a half a world away.
However, wherever she is after forty years
I still remember her
as if it were yesterday.
I guess that’s how some of our first loves go,
slipping through our fingers
like tiny grains of sand.
Leaving us with only memories
of what our life might have been.
16-17 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Window Panes
life is full of window panes.
it shows you things lost-and things gained.
it is a camera that takes pictures-of all that you do in this life.
if you're a husband or a wife.
it will show how you have treated others.
and if you did it for 'spite or gain'.
life goes on just the same.
it does not matter what you do-for these pictures follow you.
and when it is time to leave this earth.
the window will show everything from birth.
so think of what you do in life my friend
it could be a bitter end.
poem by Louis Rams
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Soon They Will Fade To
These pictures that hang upon my wall
Showing different memories coming from them all
That just seem to fade away
Till there's only pictures left to say
I was happy,
I had fun
My life was perfect
But soon these pictures
Will fade as well
Till there's no memories
No pictures to say
I was happy
I had fun
My life was perfect
Nothing to tell you to keep strong
Nothing to say i love you
Nothing left at all....
poem by Sxc Babe Xxx
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Life, Man, Wife
We all have but one Life,
Man should only have one wife,
Unless should one wife dies,
Find love with another, guys.
Your life is what you make of it,
You create, you make, a shape for it.
Some are bigger, Some are smaller,
Some are longer, Some are wider.
Some succeed, their shapes are higher.
Some who fail, what's their burning desire?
Life shapes can be a rainbow,
No such thing as a sunbow?
Some are brighter, some are duller,
Some sadly, do not have any color.
Be an artist, Be a painter,
Every brush stroke, tells your story,
Be it darker, Be it lighter,
The air you breathe is for free,
Your life's work, Your History,
An open book for all to see.
Celebrate your daily life,
We only have but one life,
Be so loving to your wife,
Be at home by half past five.
The Artist
The Artist and his Luckless Wife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the things he's made
That are not wanted by the trade.
The world is very fair to see;
The Artist will not let it be;
He fiddles with the works of God,
And makes them look uncommon odd.
The Artist is an awful man,
He does not do the things he can;
He does the things he cannot do,
And we attend the private view.
The Artist uses honest paint
To represent things as they ain't,
He then asks money for the time
It took to perpetrate the crime.
poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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Alcestis on the Poetry Circuit
(In Memoriam Marina Tsvetayeva, Anna Wickham, Sylvia Plath, Shakespeare¹s sister, etc., etc.)
The best slave
does not need to be beaten.
She beats herself.
Not with a leather whip,
or with stick or twigs,
not with a blackjack
or a billyclub,
but with the fine whip
of her own tongue
& the subtle beating
of her mind
against her mind.
For who can hate her half so well
as she hates herself?
& who can match the finesse
of her self-abuse?
Years of training
are required for this.
Twenty years
of subtle self-indulgence,
self-denial;
until the subject
thinks herself a queen
& yet a beggar -
both at the same time.
She must doubt herself
in everything but love.
She must choose passionately
& badly.
She must feel lost as a dog
without her master.
She must refer all moral questions
to her mirror.
She must fall in love with a cossack
or a poet.
She must never go out of the house
unless veiled in paint.
She must wear tight shoes
so she always remembers her bondage.
She must never forget
she is rooted in the ground.
Though she is quick to learn
& admittedly clever,
her natural doubt of herself
should make her so weak
that she dabbles brilliantly
in half a dozen talents
& thus embellishes
but does not change
our life.
If she's an artist
& comes close to genius,
the very fact of her gift
should cause her such pain
that she will take her own life
rather than best us.
& after she dies, we will cry
& make her a saint.
poem by Erica Jong
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IF You Sincerely Choose to Excel
The only thing,
You may be able to prove...
Is your right to live your own life.
However,
In doing so...
You have no right to believe,
Your success or lack of it...
Depends on someone else,
Being depicted as less deserving.
Because that is what you wish.
And you make attempts,
For others to acknowledge this.
Be not that big of a fool.
IF you sincerely choose,
To excel.
Fools are a dime a dozen.
And today...
Anyone just may get two dozen,
For less than that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Who Gets To Play Artist?
who gets
to play artist
for a few years
for a life time
as life artist?
for a life time
mostly full time
or part time
art time
is fool time?
or real time
sacred time?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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SS Demons
I artist
razor at throat
painted
a canvas life crime
I artist
fish hooks in flesh
wrote
a Holocaust Files.
Why is it popularist
history
remembers only half...
12 million killed, tortured
enslaved by vile sub-human SS
demons during World War II?
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
See also The Holocaust Files!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Moment of Truth
I am the dad of signals, of the best,
Those pictures mash, collide, retain and burn;
From actual right we stride too soon and churn
This message so much loud, then so assessed.
Your mum will guarantee us force, molest
The atoms of those plays, in this cavern
That lives in pictures bright, from one lantern;
The cavern disappoints the very nest.
This picture damages my life so bold,
My parents told me why my sight was tall,
My mum and dad were pictures blending mad.
I had to find this celebration told,
My life completely saved itself, just all,
The photograph made facts always then sad.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Money (Thats What I Want)
I saw you just the other day
And I could not help but I look yxour way
You see youve got this special look
That has got me completely hooked
Pictures on the wall, pictures everywhere
Pictures on the wall, everywhere I stare
Pictures on the wall, the ceilling and the floor
Im in a mental room and I cannot find the door
Will this feeling ever go away or will this feeling stay
Will this feeling ever go away
'Cause I cant live the rest of my life this time
I see your face in the clouds in the sky
I see your face before my eye
I see your face everywhere and now I dont know what to do
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One of the things that I am happy about in my life as an artist is that I am not considered a Hispanic artist.
quote by Andres Serrano
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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