I do believe it is possible to create, even without ever writing a word or painting a picture, by simply molding one's inner life. And that too is a deed.
quote by Etty Hillesum
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
When I'm painting the picture, I'm really painting a picture. I may have a flat-footed technique, or something like that, but still, to me, the thrill, or the meat of the thing, is the actual painting. I don't get any thrill out of laying it out.
quote by Frank Stella
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery.
quote by Mao Tse Tung
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every experience in life, everything with which we have come in contact in life, is a chisel which has been cutting away at our life statue, molding, modifying, shaping it. We are part of all we have met. Everything we have seen, heard, felt, or thought has had its hand in molding us, shaping us
quote by Orison Swett Marden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Deeds
The right deed is a good deed,
Feathers are reclined on since birth.
One saying carries new meaning
For those who listen and create deeds.
A man’s heart implores goodness from the soul,
This is beautiful when his wishes are met.
The deed of the heart is a greater deed,
It is a highest deed, full of promise.
You are higher than this of course,
The cushions we sit on are relaxing
Due to your tallness and weight,
This is a secret of the soul.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Word and the Deed
THE Word was first, says the revelation:
Justice is older than error or strife;
The Word preceded the Incarnation
As symbol and type of law and life.
And always so are the mighty changes:
The word must be sown in the heart like seed;
Men's hands must tend it, their lives defend it,
Till it burst into flower as a deathless Deed.
The primal truth neither dies nor slumbers,
But lives as the test of the common right,
That the laws proclaimed by the sworded numbers
May stand arraigned in the people's sight.
The Word is great, and no Deed is greater,
When both are of God, to follow or lead;
But, alas, for the truth when the Word comes later,
With questioned steps, to sustain the Deed.
Not the noblest acts can be true solutions;
The soul must be sated before the eye,
Else the passionate glory of revolutions
Shall pass like the flames that flash and die.
But forever the gain when the heart's convictions,
Rooted in nature the masses lead;
The cries of rebellion are benedictions
When the Word has flowered in a perfect Deed.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Not The Poem Then
NOT THE POEM THEN
Not the poem then
Although it can be the poem
Writing
Simply writing
This is the duty and the meaning
And the release from meaninglessness
And the ‘enabling me to go on’
The poem is only one form of it
It is the writing which matters
My life has been this
This writing
Even if it is a poor poem now
As I write these words
I live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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We have as many planes of speech as does a painting planes of perspective which create perspective in a phrase. The most important word stands out most vividly defined in the very foreground of the sound plane. Less important words create a series of deeper planes.
quote by Konstantin Stanislavisky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perseverance
You taught me Dad, from when so young,
To always persevere.
If at first you don't succeed
You'd murmur in my ear.
Don't give up you always said.
There's no such word as can't.
So never wilt, just try again,
And never say "I shan't".
For it's worth so much that glittering prize.
Worth the best that you can do.
Sometimes you feel you'll triumph not,
But you will, for I know you!
So Dad I simply want to say
That persevere I do,
And when I feel like giving up,
My thoughts they wing to you.
You taught me long, and I learnt hard,
That if I want to succeed,
I must simply do whatever it takes,
To complete that word or deed.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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Nothing's Changed...
this afternoon i was driving my car
back home. And i was thinking something
that may change my life
totally.
i wish i can tell you since you are part of the
picture. Your face is a painting of so many words.
Life with you has been tinted. The colors simply
disappear at the first sigh of the coming of my night.
sometimes, i stop the car along the shore
and there is little hut there where i can rest and sit for a moment.
as usual it is the sea that keeps on talking.
there are so many reasons, so many
why i do not have to tell you about this.
and then i drive my car back home and meet you.
another beginning
of another life, and as usual the conclusion is that
nothing must be changed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Longer Umpire
We've been so caught up in the subject of personnel
Playing and acting, and slaving and bathing oursleves
Her lies and her tries to come over everyone
Painting a picture to show everyone in the world
Fearing is natural
New names and places can bring
Build ups and barriers hiding behind everything
Her lies and her tries to come over everyone
Painting a picture to show everyone in the world
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Painting A Picture
["No Longer Umpire"]
We've been so caught up in the subject of personnel
Playing and acting, and slaving and bathing ourselves
Who lies and who tries to come over everyone
Painting a picture to show everyone in the world
Fearing is natural
New names and faces can bring
Build ups and barriers hiding behind everything
Who lies and who tries to come over everyone
Painting a picture to show everyone in the world
song performed by by Alice Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing is like
One that I had in a dream
I was a bird flying high
Smooth air on my wings
Then I suddenly
Fell down
I did not experience any
Cut on any of my wings
They simply stopped flapping
And the air slipped
Sucked by some
Monster in space
It is like writing
I fall down today
From the heights of
Inspiration and
My mind simply
Breaks down
No thought
No dictation
From up there
Every word is sucked
Into nothingness
And all the boredom
That I have confessed to you
Once twice and always
Such that
You believe that I am
Simply inventing things
For attention,
All these are true.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Word life
Word word life life
word life life word.
Life has its own word
Word has its own life.
word life life word
Life life word word.
Are you ready to catch
The word in your life?
Has your word the strength
And power the bear the life?
Through the word
Is your life become happy?
Word word life life
Coining of words through life
Is the successful art
That is to cultvate.
You are here
I am here
Words are around us
Go and trace
Go go and crash.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Life Is Like A Painting
Life is like a painter
Who paints a beautiful picture
Of a mother who showers her baby
Colors of water steadily
Flowing onto the child’s body
With his eyes wide open
Looking so vibrant
And hoping
He would not be drowned
By his mother
Only the painter
Could change all the factors
The mother let loose
And the baby goes dozing
Articulation of living perfectly
Events were created chromatically
Surpassing all anticipations
Exceeding all expectations
Blanketing all cloudy minds
To live with honor
Or to live with disgrace
In a life out of place
Exaggeration could be the word
But, as a painter
We paint our picture
The picture is premature
Success, failure and glory
Could be your history
Don’t call it quit
When you have succeeded
Look at the painting
The stroke of living
Is in your hands
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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What It Is Really?
somewhere our words take us
beyond
somehow we write because we
must rise
some build ships
some of us have to create an ocean to make these ships sail
some of us must know each feather to make us wings
some of us must assure that we too can fly
for we are part of this lonely planet looking for a cure
of humanity's universal sickness
this emptiness that no one feels
if i must, if need be, we too have to create God to create us
it is said He created us in His own image
and we who are lonely and fearful must accept and simply believe
we pay nothing for this
we only have an imagination
some of us has to settle in that bottom of faith
some floors must hold us as we float in space and need to land
we create floors we recreate the meaning of floating and settling
we are tired and what we need most is this peace
the calmness of everything is our dream
somewhere somehow we are and so we keep on writing
some of us has to imagine that we are at rest
some mock us because we seem to be always in motion
eternity, infinity, this somehow this somewhere
always taking us away from us
somehow somewhere we think we understand
we grope we feel and yet we are unable to hold any
and so we keep on saying and saying and saying
but what it is really? what it is really?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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Life is painting a picture, not doing a sum.
quote by Sri da Avabhas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Waited Outside The World Of Wonder
I waited inside the world of wonder
The poems were coming to me night and day-
I knew I had a vocation at last
So I gave myself into it-
Year after year
For years I wrote poems
They came in and out of me
Like breathing
And I found them wherever I looked and walked
And took them home and wrote them down
And they became my song and my me and my life and my joy
And oh what a wonder it was to be simply to be
Writing them down-
And now writing this one down after so many years
I too still sing and wonder why God has been so good to me
And given me so much I simply love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In The Years
In the years of light and darkness,
I love depths of heaven and hell.
Rehabilitation and a loving manner
Create both beauty and love.
They are cross and angry due to life,
Lights sell their picture from the mind,
This mind creates inside a painting.
The years of trust are a wonder
For they are demanding the wonder.
I love the energy of the afterlife,
Over all this time I have to fight and fight.
poem by Naveed Akram
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