With a painting, you don't have to go back and paint it again.
quote by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
My sister-in-law is a painter, and I'll say, how long did it take you to paint that painting. She'll say, It took me maybe three days, but it took me all my life to get the skills to paint that painting.
quote by Anthony Doerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In my experience a painting is not made with colors and paint at all. I don't know what a painting is; who knows what sets off even the desire to paint?
quote by Philip Guston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Night workers..
Night is frozen and full of dust,
Nocturnal creatures are out on lust,
Trainee painters colored the earth,
Using the shades of grey at the brush,
A few take the paint in the bucket,
Splatter the darker grey on the forest,
They think to color the rivers of blue,
Adding the grey to the blue, make it dark,
How hard they paint the civilization black,
The lights of men make it bright,
Bored of painting on the roads,
back alleys are pained with what they have,
Forgotten the painting of the sea,
They throw their balance paint and brush into it,
Before they finish the job and get paid,
The cleaner of the earth arrives from the Vacuum,
Sucked in all the dust from the horizon,
The perfectly visible earth emerges,
After the thawing of its all nightly desires.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't know what a painting is; who knows what sets off even the desire to paint? It might be things, thoughts, a memory, sensations, which have nothing to do directly with painting itself. They can come from anything and anywhere.
quote by Philip Guston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint my eyes in flowers
paint my hands in dragons
paint my back in windings
paint my arms in lightening
paint my neck in anks
my forehead intricate lines
paint my shoulder butterflies
paint my heart in henna
in henna of red in henna of black
body paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Photography Is Kin’s Thing
At the Lake Street Painting festival I did meet,
a photographer named Kin who is really sweet.
He shot photos of my princess on sidewalk not street.
being a rogue artist the sidewalk was the place,
that I decided to use my chalk to paint.
Paint a small square by the Hummingbird hotel,
Kin shot great photos of Sarah Star not Mel.
Since then Kin shot photos of my painting 3x5,
also castle scene painting this year with keen eye.
We went to wildlife Wakodahatchee Wetlands by Jog,
we photographed birds, alligators and frogs.
Kin visited me at the Royal Art & Music Fest,
photos he took turned out best above all the rest.
Kin says he’s my fan, and never charges a fee,
he supports all artists like cartoonist like me.
Thank you Kin
for being a great photographer and friend.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Paint Me Down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I Were A Painting
If I were a painting
Captured on canvas
Alone in the portriat I would stand
And brush strokes bold
Yet soft as a whisper
The work of a feminine hand.
Caught in a still life
Surrounded by shadows
And lost in a background of blue
If I were a painting
My price would be pain
And the artist would have to be you.
I imagine the colors
Would all run together
If you ever allowed me to cry
So don't paint the tears
Just let me remember me
Without you in my eyes.
It's only the frame
That holds me together
Or else I would be falling apart
If I were a painting
I wouldn't feel
And you wouldnt be breaking my heart...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Art Will Show To Eternity Your Soul
I am a woman, using a mirror everyday,
Like all of you, i'm seeing my reflection into it,
Even i am sad, happy, tired or bored,
What i'm seeing in my mirror it's my physical reality, my own truth.
I combed my hair and looked into my mirror,
I felt so delicate, unique and simple,
Having a smile on my face today,
My mirror will smile me back as feedback in same way.
I am a painter, i adore art,
In everything i'm painting it's life,
In each painting and spot of paint my brush does,
It's a history of great ideas my minds holds.
A painting is a gate to our inner side,
Through it vibrates the universe to our hearts,
A mirror will always show your face reflection to the world,
But art will show to eternity your soul.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Some people like to paint trees. I like to paint love. I find it more meaningful than painting trees.
quote by Robert Indiana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Layers Of Wet Paint Applied
wet on wet paint on paint
layers of wet paint applied
to previous layered layers
technique requires rapid working
fevered fast compulsive genius painting
art in realms born in new mind expressions
art in realms born in space time multiversity visions
art work fever finished before first layers have dried
poem by Terence George Craddock
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An Abstract painting
My eyes fall on an abstract painting
of which my girlfriend,
wants to paint a series
that may hang in board halls
and offices.
There’s something hot and alive
in the background
that changes from golden yellow,
to flame orange
and flows into black red
and a green line
runs from the foreground
into the horizon.
With strong straight lines wood,
and sink plate shacks appear
with horizontal and vertical lines
and it looks like a squatter camp,
or the houses of a headman
in the country.
To me it looks like drums and large tin cans
that lies around in the front
and a big old TV set
with sitting places round it
and at the back,
there are two wooden pens
to keep in sheep and goats.
Maybe there’s red sand
on the one side
and yellow and green grass
for grazing on the other side,
but honestly I do not want to stay
in such a place.
[Reference: Abstract painting by Mandi. Look at the painting on my mabooki webpage: http: //www.mabooki.com/poems/display/1416_An_Abstract_ painting.htm]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sign-Board
I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.
I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother's pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile,
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses to chat awhile.
I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him-
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.
And next I will paint a drunkard-
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathsome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.
I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling's side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin,
Labeled with one word-'lost,'
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.
The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know.
But I'll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Signboard
I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.
I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother’s pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses a chat awhile.
I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him –
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.
And next I will paint a drunkard –
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathesome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.
I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling’s side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin
Labelled with one word – ‘Lost’
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.
The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know
But I’ll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A painting is finished when the subject comes back, when what has caused the painting to be made comes back as an object.
quote by Howard Hodgkin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Blue
Our guardian star lost all its glow
The day that i lost you
It lost all its glitter the day you said no
And its grey skies turned to blue.
Like him i am doubtful
That your love is true
So if you decide to call on me
Ask for mr. blue.
I'm mr. blue
When you say you love me
The prove it by goin' out on the sly
Provin' your love is untrue
Call me mr. blue.
I sleep alone each night
Wait by the phone each night
But you don't call
And i won't hurt my pride
Call me mister,
I won't tell you
When you paint the town
A bright red to turn it upside down
I'm painting it too
But i'm painting it blue.
I sleep alone each night
Wait by the phone each night
But you don't call
And i won't hurt my pride
Call me mister.
I won't tell you
When you paint the town
A bright red to turn it upside down
I'm painting it too
But i'm painting it blue.
Call me mr. blue.
Call me mister.
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A vase of flowers
I saw a vase of purple-pink roses
lying on your dark brown buffet
and simply had to have it.
“Who painted this, ” I immediately enquired
loving the picture more with each look
that I took of it
as it’s not your thing
to paint still life’s with flowers.
“I painted it. It’s like painting pillow slips, ”
you replied and astonished
I looked at it again
and this was on board
and not in water colours
but done with oil paint.
The folds of the cups were edged
in ridges along their lines
using the techniques
of your abstract paintings
and one smaller unopened bud
laid next to the bowl
almost running into your name.
Little pink flowers was in the background
where the transparent vase with green stems
was against the wall on a tiled floor.
[Reference: Vase with roses by Mandi Engelbrecht. (This painting belongs to me.) ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Primary Education
Read
Reading will let you know many things
Reading is a good habit.
(Read)
Write
Writing will convey your message
Day and night.
(Write)
Paint
Painting is a way to express your thought
Paint even if you are a saint.
(Paint)
Sing
Singing is a way to express emotions
Let singing be your engagement ring.
(Sing)
Dance
Dancing will wipe out your pain
So don’t miss the chance.
(Dance)
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Painting The Walls
painting the walls,
rolling over handprints,
cobwebs, and smoke stains....
over splashes of color,
over peels of time.
painting over the sounds
of voices whispering, laughing....
painting over tears hidden
from the world, from each other.
painting over running, and working,
working all day and half the night.
painting over children, and dreams,
folded like old clothes, and put away.
painting over notes from God,
that were often barely noticed...
painting over the nail that held
up the clock, hands moving slowly,
turning the seasons of living....
painting over the final words,
the last breath held in the hands,
of lives written in the grain....
the testimony of each feeling....
painting the walls,
and brushing the corners,
as if we never lived!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint The Town Redneck
(richard fagan/steve obrien)
All week long I been workin that nine to five
Dreamin in color but livin in black and white
Monday to friday aint nothing but shades of gray
But tonight Im gonna party
All my blue collar blues away
Im a paint the town redneck when I get my paycheck
You ought to see my chevy van go
Headin for the bright lights, Ill be painting all night
Im a honky tonkin michelangelo
Picasso with a pool stick
Too loose with a two step
Rollin till my greens all gone
Im a paint the town redneck
Honey wanna come along
We can get there early
And draw us a pitcher of beer
Do a little dancin and make the blues disappear
Brushin up against each other in the neon light
You can be my mona lisa and Ill make you smile tonight
Im a paint the town redneck when I get my paycheck
You ought to see my chevy van go
Headin for the bright lights, Ill be painting all night
Im a honky tonkin michelangelo
Picasso with a pool stick
Too loose with a two step
Rollin till my greens all gone
Im a paint the town redneck
Honey wanna come along
Im a paint the town redneck
Honey wanna come along
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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