A sculptor is a person who is interested in the shape of things, a poet in words, a musician by sounds.
quote by Henry Moore
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The project which we developed, however, was for a sound piece and I was initially curious that a sculptor should be interested in working with a musician, especially on a project for radio.
quote by Gavin Bryars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Artist as verb
Perhaps the world is more grammatical
than grammar: reveals itself, a little coded –
as codes tempt, when grammar hides
under the guise of schoolmaster:
the artist, say, as verb:
as the verb, to be:
luring the mighty subject
beyond all thought, to become
an object we can all enjoy:
the sculptor, deep within his isness,
praying with his chisel
so that Krishna cannot but consent;
entering this stone;
the poet, listening to
the Word behind all words,
charming the spirit of all things
to make all objects sacred in our eyes;
the musician, listening to the silence,
as through his being, pass
worlds of knowledge beyond all words..
we, as heaven’s verb,
watching as subject, object,
make themselves a mirror for each other.
Grammar could be love.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The fate of attention
I grew interested.
I became interested.
I stayed interested.
I was no more interested.
I was no longer interested.
I grow uninterested.
It is so for every person
And for every thing
We focus our attention on.
29.11.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Shape Of Things To Come
Magic, logic
The system works, but not for me
Look beyond the nearest moment
And youll see
The shape of things to come
Somewhere deep in the city
I can feel you I know youre here
Baby, Im just a pussy-cat
But not a one that you should fear
One, two, always love you
One, two, move up above you
Two, two, right in the face
Yes sir, no sir, three bags full so
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
Let me get you outta here
Tragic, logic
The system hurts, but not for me
I look beyond the farest moment
And I say
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
Somewhere deep in the system
I can see you but youre not clear
A simple case of error correction
Come on baby, get your ass in gear
One, two, always love you
One, two, move up above you
Two, two, right in the face
Of sir, no sir, three bags full so
The shape of things to come
Let me get your outta here
The shape of things to come
Look into my eyes and Ill make your day
The shape of things to come
Good things, great things, all just same things
The shape of things to come
The shape of things to come
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was never interested in singing in the church choir or in school. I was more interested in becoming a musician.
quote by Cassandra Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Poetic Limits
Can words depict the true beauty of things?
Can words describe the truth of every scene?
Can words expound the hearts of all earthlings?
Can words decode the joy of things unseen?
Can words bring out the beauty of music?
Can words suffice to explain mysteries?
Can words repaint the beauty of a ‘pic’?
Can words spell out the taste of foods/berries?
And yet, the poet slogs with words and sounds;
With mastery and skills, unique, unknown;
And takes the reader’s hearts to divine grounds,
Or earthly terrains akin to their own.
Kudos to Bards! Who pen and sing supreme,
To create things felt/seen or in a dream.
9-21-2002
poem by John Celes
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He has a method that likens the musician to an athlete, so I do physical exercises designed to keep a musician in shape in order to perform the function, which is to play music.
quote by Herb Alpert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No person who is not a great sculptor or painter can be an architect. If he is not a sculptor or painter, he can only be a builder.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The poet ranks far below the painter in the representation of visible things, and far below the musician in that of invisible things.
quote by Leonardo Da Vinci
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Well I'm a third-generation musician. My Grandfather's a musician and my father and mother were both musicians and so I'm a musician. It was just natural that I should be a musician 'cause I was born into the family.
quote by Sam Rivers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A -21st -Century Poet
A -21st -Century Poet:
A -21st -Century Poet:
A poet is
a person who liberates 'I' on race, religion, place, time, personal voices
out of greed, anger and ignorance.
A poet is
a person who liberates
obsessive criterion of institutional power and money.
A poet is
a person who respects a variety of cultures,
who creates educational awareness.
A poet is
a person who surely knows himself
of being humanistic to others and himself and knowing
that of liberation from the obsessive humanity
A poet is
a p[erson who makes and builds
a bridge between universalism and worldisms
and walks over the bridge
but
he is already liberated from the concept of
obsessive reality of a bridge.
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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Over all, I think the main thing a musician would like to do is give a picture to the listener of the many wonderful things that he knows of and senses in the universe... That’s what I would like to do. I think that’s one of the greatest things you can do in life and we all try to do it in some way. The musician’s is through his music.
quote by John Coltrane
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Airways
Two ways
Upper and lower.
Voice box is there
At the top
Words and poems
In its natural form
With the mob.
When air passes
With words
It is amazing.
Poet is musician
Of life
with pleasant
And muster.
Two ways
Upper and lower
In this airways
Human instincts
Is to go upper
And upper to
Make life better
And better.
In either ways
Poet is the
Lighter and
The craftmaster.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Wait, things are shaping up
I approached a sculptor the other day
For carving a statue of
Gautama Buddha
He asked me a number of questions
Some of them were far stretched
Though I answered all of them
I was thinking within that
All these details were unnecessary
He could read my mind and said
These details were needed to help me
Come out with what exactly you were looking for
He suggested my coming to him
Two weeks later
Why so long and he said
Wait things are shaping up
Two weeks later
I saw practically no progress
He showed me a granite block
Which he said he would carve
As Gautama Buddha
He suggested me to visit him
Two weeks later
“Do you not think we are delaying? ”
I asked and he said
Wait things are shaping up
I went to him as suggested
No change at all
The block was under water
And carving had not started
He said that this curing process
Would help him understand
The quality of the block
And he opined
That we were lucky in
Selecting the right granite
And he suggested my visiting him
A week later
“Yes, I know you are wondering
As to why it is taking so much time”
How he could say even without my telling that
He continued
Wait, things are shaping up
A week later
No great change
But the block got castled here and there
No where near my expectations
“Come after three days and see”
But, he assured
Wait, things are shaping up
I made four visits later
At intervals of three, two and one days
I could not make out head or tail
Of what was happening
But, each time I returned
Hearing his words
Wait, things are shaping up
I was wondering
Are things really shaping up
Or am I being fooled
I did not visit him for
Full three months
As I was sure that
I would not be able to appreciate
The progress that the sculptor
Would be claiming to have made
One day, there was a call from him
“Come and see your Gautama Buddha”
I was not excited
I visited his place in all reluctance
And was preparing to hear
Wait, things are shaping up
But, what a surprise
Saw my Gautama Buddha
In a shape and carving
Beyond my belief
And I was not able to control my excitement
“I know you are wondering how this could be possible
But, you know, I was telling each time you visited that
Wait, things are shaping up”
We all do prayers seeking some change
And we wonder as to when the change would fructify
God, like a sculptor is shaping things
But, he never tells
Wait, things are shaping up
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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The Poem Is The Metaphor/ For All The Poet Is Not
The poem is the metaphor
For all the poet is not-
It lives in its own way
Beyond the fine line
Of the poet’s sacred intention.
It knows a holiness of its own,
And perhaps no holiness at all.
It is what it is
As all things are what they are-
And if it means more than first appears,
And if it says endlessly new sounds,
The poet never knew he uttered,
Still somehow deeply it connects
To where he is and what he was and what he will be,
When he is not.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I consider myself a poet first and a musician second. I live like a poet and I'll die like a poet.
Sonnet: the Master Poet
’Tis God who inspires in me fire!
He is the Master-Sculptor and Poet!
I play a melody with strings well-set;
God-kindled heart of mine becomes a lyre.
Every poet speaks to God in his mind,
In ways so strange that both can understand;
The Poet is a singer in his band;
To God’s tenets, his songs will always bind,
With time, he communicates very fast;
The Poet takes up every word of His;
And so the poems get very well cast;
As if God gave the poet’s mind- bliss.
To thee belongs my poems, O my Lord!
They are made great byThy divine accord.
3-3-2000
poem by John Celes
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To the spirits of Abn 'Arabi, poet, and Averroes, philosopher
The philosopher asked the poet,
Does what the poets and the mystics
find in their hearts, agree
with what the philosophers have discovered
or reasoned to be true?
The poet answered
Yes, and No
and between the two
is a place, a space, where
the mouth is silent,
the pen hovers poised above the paper,
the eyes sparkle,
the heart leaps and rejoices,
and the mind soars on journeys
beyond anything that was known before
and lives experiences never before experienced;
finds words behind words
that were never spoken before,
sounds behind sounds
never heard before,
a knowledge beyond love,
a love beyond knowledge..
a place where poets and philosophers
meet together in a world of wonder.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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