White... is not a mere absence of colour; it is a shining and affirmative thing, as fierce as red, as definite as black... God paints in many colours; but He never paints so gorgeously, I had almost said so gaudily, as when He paints in white.
quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Paints Life Theme Canvas
research scientist
paints water colours
paints poetry brush strokes
paints poetry beaker pigment
paints life theme canvas
research insistent
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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July Paints of Winter
July paints masterpieces
kissing my canvas with lively breezy strokes
July paints what she sees
adding intrigue to yellow folks
She paints a cold numbing winter
adding icicles on Christchurch trees
She paints a briskly Tasman salty sea
Sitting at a window overlooking her muse
July can't see colour til summer’s shines it's hues
poem by ArmourQuill Hunter
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Nature Paints
Nature Paints
Nature paints the sky in blue,
Then adds the fluffy spots of white
Which sometimes hide the fuel
Of fiery sphere - light
A relief that gives a gracious smile
Nature paints the high mountains green
An emerald of an incline climb
Extending stairway to heavenly dreams,
The peak is in a target's reach
Our nature paints the dark stained soil
A symbol for our hard day's toil
What in its core does treasure hides?
Seek the rainbow you will find
All colors that our artist binds
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
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An Artist
An artist paints with brush so old
Makes his painting worth gold
He paints the nature's gifted gifts
The flowing rivers in the midst
Of all he paints is a pretty face
A girl dressed all in lace
Portraying her beauty he is lost in time
The beauty she possessed is hard to find
Was it her beauty he tried to captivate?
But what a pity time doesn't wait
For she has gone so far away
Leaving her image with the artist to stay
Who paints her all through day and night?
Seeking pleasure deep inside
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Earth Safe
Death paints darkness at noon
Earth not feared of death
Death paints darkness at noon
Sun shines sky so bright
Death paints darkness at noon
unkind eyes dark so blind
Volcanoes erupt, whirl winds kill
Towers collapse thousands peril
Terrors kill, humans destroy
Death paints darkness at noon
Earth not feared of death
Rivers flow, Oceans flow
Nature green, universe calm
Earth safe, safer than ever....
September 4,2008
poem by Rema Prasanaa
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The Canvas (Part 2)
We last left off with such the fright,
She paints—but gasp! —that's not quite right,
For every story has a twist,
And every painting is done on her wrist.
She paints with—sorry? —with little regard,
To what may bleed and what may scar,
But oh, she paints a lovely spar,
Despite the way that most things are.
Some find it funny and watch as she flees,
Others feel sick the moment they see,
Because a painter, she can't have much of a life,
If all of her painting is done with a knife.
This painter—in fact—she thinks she's alone,
Because of the burden of problems at home,
And then there's her mind, a nasty old place,
It's mostly the cause of the paintings she makes.
But one can be trapped, or one can be freed,
Though most painters like her find this hard to believe,
Yet this very painter broke free of her sadness,
And if she ever wonders 'why? ' she can look at her canvas.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Lapis Lazuli
The testimony of the blue
It paints the king and queen
The royal dresses
And a never completely sung
Jewel of the word
Lapis lazuli
Ink spilled into
Rorschach spots on the eye
It observes the blue at the bottom of the blue
The edges of the sky it paints in blue
And all the colours of the blue
Rising from the ground
Lapis lazuli
Seals the hands boughed in hope
The feet that go down to the root of soil
The eyes that open the butterfly restlessness
And the hair swaying on the scales of freedom
Lapis lazuli
Is the colour that walks
Within the sacred number
From one to two that makes three
In verse never completely sung
Jewel of diversity
In the strength of unity
A throne that can never be dethroned
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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0004 M i n d
and mind might ask,
why then are brain cells gray? Is it
because the world is just
so wonderful, that they, stunned
and amazed, cannot decide
which colour to praise first?
(Mix all the colours of the paints,
and the result is gray.)
or is it because they feel themselves
so dull in comparison
with the miracle which is creation,
the miracle they (miracles themselves) , faithful, serve?
(Mix all the colours of the spectrum,
and the result is white.)
or is it, because they know
their work lies between ultimates
such as (do they themselves
call them this?) black,
and white? do they know
their work is equity –
to balance all things, so that gray is not gray
as we use gray for worldly metaphor; but
the gray of lakes at peace;
of silver that lives in itself,
needing no sun but its own innerness;
mercury that is moved but longs
to be united in a perfect sphere;
gray of clouds that know
the blessings that they hold;
and, the shining gray of mind -
for which gray hair is living metaphor,
the wisdom which life holds in store for you -
as how many poets, this moment round the world,
are joining new electric paths of thought between
these tiny, great gray worm-like cells which hide, compact,
their vast and inner space which spins out eager words
of metaphor, for that so nameless,
boundless, dazzling spectrum,
the radiant space of self?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Wrapped In Grey
Some folks see the world as a stone
Concrete daubed in dull monotone
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
How coloured the flowers all smelled
As they huddled there, in petalled prayer
They told me this, as I knelt there
Awaken you dreamers
Adrift in your beds
Balloons and streamers
Decorate the inside of your heads
Please let some out
Do it today
But dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
Some folks pull this life like a weight
Drab and dragging dreams made of slate
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
Just think how the old masters felt, they call...
Awaken you dreamers
Asleep at your desks
Parrots and lemurs
Populate your unconscious grotesques
Please let some out
Do it today
Dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
And in the very least you can
Stand up naked and
Grin
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wrapped In Grey
Some folks see the world as a stone
Concrete daubed in dull monotone
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
How coloured the flowers all smelled
As they huddled there, in petalled prayer
They told me this, as I knelt there
Awaken you dreamers
Adrift in your beds
Balloons and streamers
Decorate the inside of your heads
Please let some out
Do it today
But dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
Some folks pull this life like a weight
Drab and dragging dreams made of slate
Your heart is the big box of paints
And others, the canvas were dealt
Your heart is the big box of paints
Just think how the old masters felt, they call...
Awaken you dreamers
Asleep at your desks
Parrots and lemurs
Populate your unconscious grotesques
Please let some out
Do it today
Dont let the loveless ones sell you
A world wrapped in grey
And in the very least you can
Stand up naked and
Grin
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Belongs To Me
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she don't look back.
Takes the dark out of the nighttime, she paints the daytime black.
You will start out standing, proud to steal her anything she sees.
But you will wind up peeking through a key hole, down upon your bended knees.
She never stumbles, she's got no place to fall.
She's nobody's child, the law can't touch her at all.
She wears an Egyptian ring, that sparkles before she speaks.
She's a hypnotist collector, you are a walking antique.
Bow down to her on Sunday, salute her when her birthday comes.
For Halloween but her a trumpet, and for Christmas, buy her drums.
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she don't look back.
Takes the dark out of the nighttime, you know she paints the daytime black
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alice The Artist ('this Is Art')
She paints first the floor
Then the wall behind her
The adjacent wall
Stops not at the first quart
No shes goin for 6,
Six
Six
Six
Overtime
Or going untill she cant anymore.
But no she doesnt consider this suicide
This night is her graduation from person to artist
Red everywhere. Alice is covered in blood
wishing for a crypt.
So she paints a picture worth a thousand words.
And her last words?
'This is art'
poem by Deandre Cammon
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First Encounter - Artist Rafiee Ghani
Rafiee Ghani
you wont see his colours until
he sketches and paints
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sweet Is The Night
When the day is done and theres nowhere to run
And the people of the city have all lost and won
In your city dress you stand and stare
And you smoke another cigarette and comb your hair
And the light that shines
Paints a trace of sadness
On the street I wait
But I cant seem to get to you.
Well, you start to sway, check your cartier
cos its getting late, you cant afford to wait
So you move along where its going on
And the people of the night are playing till the dawn
And the sun that shines
Paints a trace of sadness
In your eyes that cry
Wishing and hoping
Oh...
Chorus:
Sweet, sweet is the night
Now you are near
Dark, dark were the days
They disappear
Sweet, sweet is the night
Now you are near.
Well you did your thing and you lost your wings
And you hurt so bad you lost everything
And the tears that fall on the city wall
Will fade away with the rays of morning light that shines
Paints a smile across your pretty face
I know
Everything is alright
Alright...
Repeat chorus
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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While Johnny and his section is on patrol
An artist paints a bushy landscape,
paints colours of a setting sun
with fleecy clouds hanging in the blue sky
while Johnny and his section is on patrol.
The canvass has a river where shots rang out,
an angry crocodile that tries to catch him,
black coots fly up and Johnny feels afraid,
when a trooper detonates a landmine,
three riflemen cover his position,
the enemy shoot with tracer bullets that draw lines,
they are caught unexpectedly by Johnny's return fire,
and flee from the very start of the fire-fight
with a wounded comrade that longs for God,
Johnny's men are brave and capable,
a soldier is shot to smithereens, lies droopy like a doll,
some distance away a hissing snake slithers,
to vomit is an unstoppable urge;
down at the marsh a long-tailed widow-bird flies.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Of Colors That You Interchanged
i have read it once from your
translations:
the red mountains
the green sea
the violet clouds
the blue sands
the black herons
the white eagles
everything goes
wrong when you
fall out of love
everything goes
awry when another
lover leaves your
door, when another
part of you dies
your fingers
those that
put the color of
your paints simply
show the distorted
face of
truth
your hands tremble
your fingernails stiff
dead and black.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bolo
Black is our colour and white is your muse,
But with one love and one heart to share with you;
White is your colour and black is my muse,
But in peace and love to share this sweet muse with you;
For the colours of black and white are always around us,
And i am Bolo from the Land of Equal Rights and Justice.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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BLACK AND COLOUR's
Your dreams
Colour
Are
Black and
White...?
Enjoy the
'Colours'
Hear
Colour
Mean's
youngy girls...
Black and
White
Mean's
Old age girls...
Dream yours
Choise....
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Pink confused a white rose red
Pink confused a red rose white
Dipping sun sets day to night.
Guileless dawn joins light with dark;
Hateless, awe-filled, works of art.
Nature paints each their skin;
Not a choice, nought to win.
No thorn pricked, no blood bled,
pink infused a white rose red.
poem by Sailing to windward
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Simplistic Style. for J.T.Early
Winter is waiting in the wings
Until his turn to take the stage.
Amused at autumns posturings
He will create a pristine page
On which to paint in black and white
An austere winter beauty show.
Pictures dependent on the light
reflecting from the fallen snow.
He has a limited palette
Displaying his flawless technique.
Paints pictures you will not forget
because each picture is unique.
The gaudy autumn colours go
Replaced by winters coat of snow.
11/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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