A Shopkeeper’s Story
I sell one bristle brushes. People
seeking two bristle brushes I send
to the guy on Amsterdam, who’s in a rush.
I may have one customer a year
for my one bristle brushes, a one-eyed
lover of tanagers, she may have
one dollar to spend in the moment
light’s neither day’s or night’s,
but one’s where infinity begins. Whoever
she is, she’s always painting barbules,
I’m always thinking, no one will notice
that they notice this, that her tanagers
move, that everything’s alive. We talk
care and feeding of the one
bristle brush. Care exists. I thrive.
Related quotes
While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Don't Prolong The Agony
you don't have to prolong
my agony
of waiting and staring
at the stars
i give up i am leaving
what for my dear?
i only have your name
you are never here
i heard your voice
nothing but a
very faint whisper
a hush in the bush
a blush a crush
a bristle of a brush
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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People say I've had brushes with the law. That's not true. I've had brushes with overzealous prosecutors.
quote by Mark Duffy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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tender dance
tender tea leaves bristle
with dawn light
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Countries are either mothers or fathers, and engender the emotional bristle secretly reserved for either sire.
quote by Edna O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spirit Of Radio
Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood.
Off on your way, hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers -
Undemanding contact in your happy solitude
Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antenae bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback, on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price - almost free
All this machinery making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted; it's really just a question of your honesty.
One likes to believe in the freedom of music
But glittering prizes and endless compromises shatter the illusion of integrity
Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antenae bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback, on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price - almost free
song performed by by Rush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter Night
Small creatures shiver in their lairs
While the full moon is strangled by the tree
Whose branches wrestle with the wind,
Scraping, groaning ceaselessly.
In deep discomfort, deprived of sleep,
I get up from my barren bed,
Draw back my curtains
And see the cold night bristle with stars.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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In The Quietude Of A Bluebells Mound
In and out the dappled dew wet ferns
My grey ghostly spirit glides
In and out these mottled skies
Beneath those blue bristle furs
Where a fox cub has lain aground...
Here shall my heart be found...
Here shall my spirits soul, resound...
Here in the quietude of a bluebells, mound.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Prom Night
monozygotic
fountain of
chocolate fast
melting tears
that bristle
through the
palm trees
of the moon
shark-splash
wine on your
virginity
torn
an unsymmetrical
candle fading
blot to remind
you the
rest
of june
poem by Raakhi Mittal
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Warm Inside
The wind howls
Through windowpanes
Leaves bristle
Swish on trees
Sanctuary sought
Playing jigsaw
A five thousand piece
On knees
Fire blazing
In the hearth
Adding rose-faced
Cheek
To banter
About who'll be first
To get up
And make the tea
poem by Harriet James
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A Weed......honesty
a weed amongst weeds
honesty, to you i do plead
show yourself to me,
one more time,
in your pristine beauty
of bright translucent white
a adorable name,
for a weed so hidden
amongst natures
wooden bristle beauty.
poem by Ritty Patnaik
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Paintings by fliss IV Painted Words
You take My words
Brushes in hand
Blank canvas on stand
The curve of a woman
The strings of rust
The weeping guitar
In your brushes you trust.
From my words you summon
And bring to life
The poems I write
Guitar fading
Waiting to be held
Your art works amazing
poem by Robert Green
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Jungle Gentleman
He bears a grace that few may own,
A regal quality.
Distinguished though he walks alone,
This tiger that I see.
Behold the fellow as he strolls,
Without a single care...
As if he has no urgent goals,
No burdens to beware.
He doesn't crouch as if to pounce...
He doesn't crawl the grounds.
He walks as if he weighs an ounce
And not two hundred pounds.
He's like a dancer, fleet of foot,
Yet this is his day off...
In simple words and humbly put,
He acts as if the toff!
He swaggers, struts and looks so cool
In orange, black and white...
As if he'd stepped out from a pool,
Refreshed and sparkling bright.
His whiskers bristle in the sun...
His twinkling eyes aglow!
This tiger's out to have some fun!
He's going with the flow!
When life is good, when life is great,
Don't let the moment pass!
Take time so you can celebrate!
Don't hide behind the grass!
Come out to play and strut your stuff!
Rejoice in what you are!
Who knows? Today you may find love!
Good luck, 'cos you're a star!
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Jungle Gentleman'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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My World Of Poetry That Muses
Nice,
Neat,
But mused up in the world of poetry! !
However, do get it right all day long,
And like my world of püoetry that muses;
For, i do learn always from the teacher of the faith.
If you don't know how to rule your own house,
How then can you rule a nation? !
For, i am able to teacgh with the humility of my mind;
And, step by step along the same route of love.
Whistle, hustle, bustle, thistle, bristle. gristle, rustle;
And like a novice deceived by your acts!
However, try to ve a light to the ones in darkness and a guide to the blind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A toothbrush rush
Could I try to
Save self, save us, save the world?
Let's take one soft tooth brush
and start to clean own heart
of every dark spot,
or rust stain
or the mischievous thought
before it comes to be
a putrid mould.
Brush kindly
for rebel stains
that out comes not
in tears soak.
Put more energy,
one gram of salt
and bit more energy
rub well to truly clean
until becomes pristine.
Then go to those near by
with new tooth brushes
as humble gift
and teach them, show
how you have cleaned
own soul.
Then together
take more brushes
and start to clean some more
maybe the biggest dirt of world,
own violent mind, let the clean be done
kindly, by a homely toothbrush.
Then with a peaceful heart
Done to the people of entire earth
from the pit to the top
once brushed, gurgle
and also rinse the big mouth
We can then start
with all the other
things around
Hard to select
But let's start first
To get rid of our biggest s...t
Lets make the world as well as we,
...nuclear...
Free.
Peacefully, with patience
let's give our earth clean
Love.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Flowerstand Man
'Bout a month ago
I'd never seen your face
I'd never heard your voice
'Bout a month ago
I am a careful hunter
And I had to search
Before I found your love
'Bout a month ago
Are you my boy or the Flowerstand Man
You bought such colour to this place
Are you my boy or the Flowerstand Man
With you I am laid back
I don't care if every River runs so dry
I don't care if every Species were to die
I don't care about the Ozone layer
I wouldn't notice if it wasn't there
Oh no I don't care if we sell Coke to Africa
I don't care about apartheid
I wouldn't notice if it all get better
I don't care about the starving who've died
Your my boy when the way you live and breathe
I don't care about anything but you
Your my boy when the way you live and breathe
I don't care about anything but you
Take me home
song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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~Painting Poetry~
Poetry in thought
words tumble
from my mind
onto the page and screen
like paint dripping
from sable silk brushes
creating new visions
of new realities
in the virtual space
of my Soul
painting a perfect picture
words drip down the canvas
in deep brilliant hues
of purples and reds
and vibrant blues
to soft indigo of
twinkling velvet starlight
yellow tones as warm as sunrize
and golden oranges
of fleeting sunsets
blanket the page and screen
as verse, lyric and rhyme converge
splattering from my tongue
giving form to my dreams
and shape to my fantasies
trailing across
the smooth texture
and terrain of
flesh and muscle
brushes whisper
across the canvas
dance across bodies
images of two entwined
captured boldly
in Nubian hues
of mahogany and mocha
limbs and torsos
move and connect
in a vision of words spoken
caught in the kinetic frenzy
of bodies joined
and poetry painted
across the canvas
of this night’s loving
a masterpiece to behold
for generations to come
culminating in the joining of
pen and brush
words and colors
page and canvas
poetry and paint
poem by Soulful One
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I think the work that they do and the style of 3D graphics is absolutely fabulous and I think it's a great brush to use for some stories. And there are other brushes that I think are exclusive to a different kind of story.
A Asome Poem About PEOPLE
Some people
Care about you, some people
Don’t care,
Make fun of you and walk away,
Some people,
Run past, some people
Hand you presents,
Give you a pat on the back,
Some people
You love, some people
You don’t know
Some people, some people,
You do,
Some people
You notice, some people
Eat cauliflower, some people
Are teenagers,
Some people walk to restaurants,
Sit down at the counter,
Eat there food, through it at
People,
Some people never notice you,
Some people always look, some people
Want to take you away, some people
Will never exist
Some people are other people; some people are you, some people
Die ever second,
Some people are you
poem by Annie Nosich
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Brother Jim
My brother Jim's a millionaire,
while I have scarce a penny;
His face is creased with lines of care,
While my mug hasn't any.
With inwardness his eyes are dim,
While mine laugh out in glee,
And though I ought to envy him,
I think he envies me.
He has a chateau, I a shack,
And humble I should be
To see his stately Cadillac
Beside my jalopy.
With chain of gold his belly's girt,
His beard is barber trim;
Yet bristle-chinned with ragged shirt,
I do not envy Jim.
My brother is a man of weight;
For every civic plum
He grabs within one pie of state,
While I am just a bum.
Last Winter he was near to croak
With gastric ulcers grim. . . .
And no! although I'm stony broke
I will not envy Jim
He gets the work, I get the fun;
He has no tie for play;
Whereas with paddle, rod and gun
My life's a holiday.
As over crabbed script he pores
I can the sky's blue rim. . . .
Oh boy! While I have God's outdoors
I'll never envy Jim.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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