Well rounded forms gives smooth sounds; sharper or angular forms give harder and harsher sounds.
quote by Norman McLaren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Execute The Sounds
I'm on a mad style
Underground, we come cool and deadly
With that natural sound
It make you feel so free, you no turn it down
Vibe 6-19 from the Southtown
And Jah know, what I and I wanna do
Because Jah know, I am man stay true
You know Jah know, the real who is who
Ain't no time to fake it, make ya feel brand new
It goes 1,2,3. The crew is called P.O.D.
And if you wanna go to the tip top
Break it down, with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Now why mess me, try to take his crown.
Babylon test me, we gonna smash em down
Original O.G. this is my playground
Don't take me seriously, you gonna feel it now
I man, you know the harder they come
Because I man, I'm gonna get the job done
You know I man, no they don't want none
Me never have to cheat cause me already won.
19'04, home to the real hardcore.
And you don't wanna sleep, don't talk
I'll break you down with that one drop - Whyoo
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
Execute the sounds, and positive come around
Impact the sounds, positive all around
song performed by by P.O.D.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Neither is there figurative and non-figurative art. All things appear to us in the shape of forms. Even in metaphysics ideas are expressed by forms, well then think how absurd it would be to think of painting without the imagery of forms. A figure, an object, a circle, are forms; they affect us more or less intensely.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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“Sweet Sounds of Joy”
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear sweet sounds
Of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear momma sing
In her morning voice
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to be in the presence
Of these sounds of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love sweet sounds of joy
poem by Va Rockeya Foy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sounds explode
I.
Sounds explode
The science of pronunciation
Exposed.
Force explains when Rs are rolled.
Glory teaches the words
To find their lesser forms.
Prosody tastes of the intensity
Of vowels.
Tones’ rhythm are laid down
By letters and text moving around.
The quantity of speaking tongues
When weeping the significance of the word
Hum is an acceptable treasury
As the word cum.
II.
The third word creature born
Commonly called poems
Are formed by the
Supramundane foot formed
Yonder sun that glows
Gift of counterbalance of sounds
The poet gives to you
Salutation thee fourth foot
Desired of words flourish from the root
Large quantity of sounds as fuel
Some in pure decay
The oldest breath of the play.
III.
Greatest abode the animal soul
Considered the animal semen
Sounds, sounds, sounds
Bounded and endowed
Procreation of attribute vowels
Dump breath breathing
Vital nakedness proceeding on different paths
Leaves in their wake
On the breath the first animal sounds.
poem by David E. Patton
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Architecture is the masterly, correct and magnificent play of masses brought together in light. Our eyes are made to see forms in light; light and shade reveal these forms; cubes, cones, spheres, cylinders or pyramids are the great primary forms which light reveals to advantage; the image of these is distinct and tangible within us without ambiguity. It is for this reason that these are beautiful forms, the most beautiful forms. Everybody is agreed to that, the child, the savage and the metaphysician.
Le Corbusier in Vers une architecture (1923)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Post-conceptual Poetics(6)
post-conceptual concept of form- without- forms -and- formlessness- with -forms will reflect the contemporary existence of multi-disciplinary arts.
forms with formlessness is beyond concept
formlessness with forms is beyond concept
Beat the plowshare
Pound the drum
Of war to come
Rhythm on steel
Red from the forge
Forms the sword
To carry to war
The sledge makes beat
On thinning edge
As it pounds
pounds
pounds
pounds
It sounds the drum
Of war to come
Soon it will be echoed
By marching men
cries of battle
Sounds of war
The sword will lead
Before the flag
Followed by the sound
Of drums
Pounding
Pounding
To war
Today, I beat my plowshare
And I listen to the drum
poem by James Timothy Jarrett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Showing her teeth pearls!
I heard some wonderful sounds
floating through the air into my ears;
Is it her anklets made of fine sounds....!
Is it her bangles made such sounds..!
Or is it the sounds of dropped coins;
I am puzzled and turned around,
I could not find anybody,
Suddenly there appeared a beautiful girl,
She came giggling with a broad smile,
Showing her teeth pearls!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Also in Norah Jones, now there's a voice that sounds and I don't mean disrespect but sounds a hundred years old that sounds incredibly experienced. It's just an exciting time.
quote by Gerry Beckley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oh These Poets And Their Sounds
OH THESE POETS AND THEIR SOUNDS
Oh these poets and their sounds
Their distant rhythms
Which take your soul away-
Oh these poets and their sounds
And the longing to be
One of them-
Oh this poet
And all his cry of loneliness-
Oh these poets and their sounds,
And he in his own small voice
Crying out lonely words
Before his own lonely page.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Thoughts On The Sounds of Silence
The sounds of silence beacons me.
Like the flight of a bumble bee.
For my life is in a quandary. And I am the one who is confused.
All the noise I here has me transfused.
The constant noise is like a cancerous ooze, someone mused.
All this noise has everyone confused.
I pray to God above to bestow me with the sounds of silence.
All human life is in the balance.
With the sounds of silence I believe peace surrounds us.
About this subject I must confess, I need to access.
I must admit that the sounds of silence is for me.
On the sounds of silence many of us do agree
That peace and love needs to be in great balance.
Without the sounds of silence there would be a major imbalance.
poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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The words
Sometimes your words are mixed
With words unsaid yet,
By changing their deep of meaning.
They turn me into something,
That you do not want me to become.
It's an escape from myself
Into my deep inside.
I run from you into my depth.
And this escape save me
In a certain place,
Where nothing changes.
Those that can save me there are
Either the memories,
Or the forms of air,
Or the forms in forms......
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Sounds
What are the sounds we love to hear,
the sounds that bring us joy?
They are all the sounds we've listened to,
sounds that don't destroy
how you feel or how you react
when they reach your ear.
They touch a certain part of you
that sometimes brings a tear
of joy.
A child's laughter so innocent and pure,
a rolling wave down at the shore,
a sound of comfort from a spoken word,
a sound of wind chimes in the air,
a sound of silence while in prayer,
a sound of white noise when you sleep,
a sound of joyful tears you weep.
These sounds and many, many more
can change a person's mood.
They soothe your body and your mind
so nothing can intrude
upon your joy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One
At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.
It raises its hand.
It asks if metaphor should burn.
He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.
He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going?
I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says.
Would you have given him back if you knew?
I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me,
I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day.
Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river,
and the river reads its poem,
and the other students tell the river
it sounds like a poem the boy would have written,
that they smell the boy's cigarettes
in the poem, they feel his teeth
biting the page.
And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses?
because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream.
They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood
round things, why would leaving come back
to itself?
And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it
against the river, and the kiss flows away
but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds
to go after the kiss.
And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy.
And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape
to the ocean.
I think for being not unsympathetic that their appearance may also appear, so differently it, must; similarly as with animals, which meet us in very different forms, which look somehow harmonious however all. On exactly such forms I would stand.
quote by Ulrich Walter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Laughter
So that's what it sounds like.
True Laughter.
I don't hear it that often.
Even when I do, it's quickly silenced,
usually by someone to afraid to let their guard down.
It sounds like running through the rain,
hands locked with friends that embrace who you are.
The friends that see through the stranger
that sometimes takes your place.
They don't even realize he's there
because truthfully,
he's not.
It sounds like tripping down memory lane,
reminiscing and smiling at awkward photos.
It sounds like talking to an old mentor that hasn't changed.
You show up on their doorstep two years late for class
and they still welcome you in.
It sounds like hot soup eaten in cold clothes;
sipping hot chocolate while watching
video tapes of an old friendship.
You smile and laugh,
because it was there and you had forgotten it existed.
Soon everyone's laughing because it was
and it is.
Then you realize
it always will be.
Huh
So that's what it sounds like.
True Laughter.
poem by Cary Kelly
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The task is to investigate speech sounds in relation to the meanings with which they are invested, i.e., sounds viewed as signifiers, and above all to throw light on the structure of the relation between sounds and meaning.
quote by Roman Jakobson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silence Of God Does Not Imply His Absence!
Can tree survive without sunlight,
It can send its roots down,
Can absorb water and minerals,
Yet that energy it has receive as grace
Air is around it, not seen,
its effect and necessity felt!
God around and within like air,
Or that strange flow of energy,
That flows through cells,
That brilliance of knowledge unknown,
God can't be an object of senses,
God is the one who drives them,
God is Not in objects with forms,
The formless behind all forms,
Neither an animal, nor animated,
Yet animate all forms,
God has no space to move,
As he fills every forms,
Fills universe and beyond,
God is Not felt, his effects can be,
As lightwaves, or matterwaves,
As fundamental particles,
Without mass or charge,
Smaller than photon, smaller than God_particle,
Subtle of subtle, friend of all,
All are his forms,
the forms breath the formless!
God is that beauty, may be Himalayan ice,
Flow of river, cooling wind, or may be Love,
in a beautiful heart he dwell!
How can one separate God from all forms,
Can Heartless man live,
But he is Not heartless,
But only deaf and blind,
to music of musings of his own heart!
Man can't bear a little pain,
A little insult, little failure in his experiments,
But God bears every thing,
Ever cool he was,
when his experiments
failed,
Dinosaurs appeared, simply cleaned his lab,
Started experiment with a new!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Triolet
Of all the sickly forms of verse,
Commend me to the triolet.
It makes bad writers somewhat worse:
Of all the sickly forms of verse,
That fall beneath a reader's curse,
It is the feeblest jingle yet.
Of all the sickly forms of verse,
Commend me to the triolet.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be Blind
Is it sounds
converging,
Sounds
nearing,
Infringement,
impingement,
Impact,
contact
With surfaces of the sounds
Or surfaces without the sounds:
Diagrams,
skeletal,
strange?
Is it winds
curling round invisible corners?
Polyphony of perfumes?
Antennae discovering an axis,
erecting the architecture of a world?
Is it
orchestration of the finger-tips,
graph of a fugue:
Scaffold for colours:
colour itself being god?
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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