The artist who aims at perfection in everything achieves it in nothing.
quote by Eugene Delacroix
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While one should always study the method of a great artist, one should never imitate his manner. The manner of an artist is essentially individual, the method of an artist is absolutely universal. The first is personality, which no one should copy; the second is perfection, which all should aim at.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A round round Ball
i like the concept of God
perfection in imperfection
a round round ball no artist
could paint without making lesser round
i like the
perpetual Driver in me
perfection seeker amid imperfections
a spirit perpetually
desiring to do beter
today than yesterday
to be closer one's goal -
a round round ball no artist could do justice to
i like the concept of the homo sapiens
a transient world cruising through eternal
rising and falling, falling and rising
beside a round round ball no artist could do
without making lesser round
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A perfection of means, and confusion of aims, seems to be our main problem.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every artist was first an amateur.
Ralph Waldo Emerson in Letters and Social Aims: Progress of Culture, 1876
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is the perfection of art when no trace of the artist appears.
An artist's only concern is to shoot for some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else's.
quote by J.D. Salinger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Artists.....
the role of a true artist
is to put order to the messy state of things
chopped lines are interconnected again
colors are categorized to a harmonious blending
a room of scattered old and dirty clothes
bedsheets in disarray
pillows on the floor
paper scratches and pens and ink spilled
the artist picks them all up
and puts them properly back to the places
where they must be
for at the beginning there was an order of perfection
but then this universe bangs itself against a black space of a wall
and goes into an accelerated entropy
a scattering, a chaos pursuing upon another chaos
expanding litters of planets and stars
and God the Artist gathers them all into One
Harmony, the Silenced Storm, the Wellness and Wholeness
of These All
We are all these Artists, God's Children looking for Peace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Nude Artist
A Nude Artist
he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints
such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist
a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist
there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken
just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist
an artist is not an art
he must know that
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Stephen Gayford
Masterpieces for the masses!
Loved lithographs! Sweet prints!
A treasure trove of canvasses
With wondrous shades and tints.
Consider how this painter hopes
To capture all he can.
Reflect on how he always copes
And stays the artisan.
With finite detail to control,
To share his point of view,
This artist has a special soul,
A noble spirit, too.
Rejecting basics and extremes,
Perfection to create.
Respecting quintessential dreams
And so encapsulate...
It's finished, no more need to fuss!
What glory this achieves!
Rejoicing in what's done for us,
That each, in time, receives.
There's joy as we anticipate
This craftsman's artistry!
Yes, all things come to those that wait...
Yet patience is the key...
How many paintings Stephen's done,
In truth, I cannot say,
Yet he portrays a sense of fun
At work, at home, at play...
If you're like me, you've got a few
To beautify your home...
So, Stephen, thank you! God bless you!
Wherever you may roam...
My Gayford poems here: tinyurl-dot-com-slash-gayfordpoems (OR)
My Gayford poems here: tinyurl-dot-com-slash-gayfordpoems2
My Gayford poems blog: denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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This Is The Achievement Remembered
It is not 'what' we do,
That achieves accolades...
With a doing that gets done,
From others!
It is how that doing gets done,
That seems to welcome...
Some to stand and cheer.
With a knowing,
That what has been accomplished,
And delivered...
Has come from a place sincere.
It is not 'what' we do,
That achieves accolades...
With a doing that gets done,
From others!
It is how that doing gets done,
And delivered...
Coming as it does...
From a place recognized as being sincere.
This is the achievement remembered,
And receives the attention.
This is the reward given and received.
And one that is endeared!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sunset, sunrise both please my eyes for M lady Denise
The western sky is roseate
but filigreed with finest gold
Now day is done the hour grows late
and night approaches dark and cold.
The sun will sink below the sea
extinguishing the sunset’s flames.
Destroy the golden filigree
as night achieves its wonted aims.
Darkness must give way to the dawn
then in the east the sky glows red
Heralding a new day being born.
The sun arising from his bed.
He will repaint the clouds anew
with pink and peach against the blue.
Sunday,01 August 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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I am what you would call a stern taskmaster. I expect perfection. And then a little more perfection when perfection is offered.
quote by Estee Lauder
Submitted by Simona Enache
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Galatea (a riff)
What perfection in eye and cheek,
She shifts her body, I cannot speak,
Her back's soft light of muscled bone
That I would frame in marble stone;
What arrogance in handheld tool
That I could take what's learned in school
And reproduce her subtle beauty
Oh Pygmalion, you fail in duty.
With grace she moves to part the curtain,
In dusky light she stands uncertain
To check the time she has to pose,
What innocence denied of clothes.
Oh Artist here stands your Art
With breathing lips, a beating heart,
She turns to me, head over shoulder,
Complains to me, the room's grown colder.
I take an iron and stoke the coals,
How burns the furnace of my soul,
Oh I would warm her in my arms,
Would violation arouse alarm?
But she resumes her model perch,
Her innocence I would not besmirch,
But I am poor and ill-equipped
To carve the ivory of her hip.
Her perfection stalls my hand
It overcomes my code as man,
I kneel before her radiant beauty
And as an artist forget my duty
poem by David McLansky
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Cupids Arrow
A white bellowing cloud
Floats on high as cupid aims at passer by
He aims at the man and women
Who have only know each other as friends
His aim so true…he watches anew
As from friendship to lovers they grew
This is indeed a delightful sight
When wedding bells start to chime
As the two lovers now
Become man and wife
Cupid just grins and aims once again
at the unsuspecting people whom pass by
© Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George
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The main reason he wanted to be a recording artist was because it gives you much more freedom in your writing. You only have to please the artist and the artist is you so you can be more daring and experimental.
quote by Cynthia Weil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You are born an artist or you are not. And you stay an artist, dear, even if your voice is less of a fireworks. The artist is always there.
quote by Maria Callas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The true gourmet, like the true artist, is one of the unhappiest creatures existent. His trouble comes from so seldom finding what he constantly seeks: perfection.
quote by Ludwig Bemelmans
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfection
Perfection is a life-time work,
We try attaining through sheer toil,
And hardly see the peak at all,
But keep sliding down, even fall!
Perfection is akin mirage,
That dupes our senses and our mind,
And drives us crazy, crestfallen,
Like horizon that stays untrue!
Perfection is subjective then,
And differs from issues, moments,
Making man give up halfway through,
And leaving him imperfect still!
Perfection is a ghost-like goal,
That hardly can be half-attained,
Despite our best perseverance,
Defeating us well in the end!
poem by John Celes
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Perfection
Your cold and poor-spirited love
Was like running water upon my hands...
I did for your love, all that I could....
As an imperfect man that I am...
I offered you just possible things...
Warmth when you were cold,
And consolation when you felt hopeless...
You search for perfection
Which you will never find...
Perfect is the rain that falls
In the spring time...
Perfect are the flowers that grow
in a real garden of love....
Perfect is the smile in a child
Who plays with toys...
Perfection is a man
Who had it all
And now is getting tired and old...
Perfection are the memories
In your heart and mind...
Perfection is something
You shall never find
On me or any other man
Since perfection is just
In your dreams and imagination...
Now perfection becomes
Just like a story untold....
How sad it is
That my love you can no longer have
Neither my hands again hold...
o! Woman, wish you good luck
In your new try...
COPY WRITE©2009
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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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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