Definition of Creative Art
With shirt wide open at the collar,
Maned as Beethoven's bust, it stands;
Our conscience, dreams, the night and love,
Are as chessmen covered by its hands.
And one black king upon the board:
In sadness and in rage, forthright
It brings the day of doom.-Against
The pawn it brings the mounted knight.
In gardens where from icy spheres
The stars lean tender, linger near,
Tristan still sings, like a nightingale
On Isolde's vine, with trembling fear.
The gardens, ponds, and fences, made pure
By burning tears, and the whole great span,
Creation-are only burst of passion
Hoarded in the hearts of men.
poem by Boris Pasternak
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Related quotes
Unconditionally Open
these hands,
that took yours
and walked away from all
we knew.
these hands,
that laid brick,
cut wood,
plowed gardens,
picked up trash
built fences for the dogs,
held the children
when they were small,
held your hands
at the hospital
stroked your body,
touching forbidden places
with gentleness and
passion
wrote the poetry
hidden in your eyes
these hands,
now old and calloused,
sometimes tremble,
sometimes hard as stone
these hands are open,
without fear or trepidation,
unconditionally open
waiting for yours.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Melancholy Song
-believing that humans are made in the image of God
has its implications;
living life here, while looking There
brings about the most precarious, melancholy situations-
There's a sad song singing
In the soul of the wind,
And yet a joyful wind blowing
Through every soul's song.
It never stays
And it never goes,
Calling our hearts onward
To wherever it flows.
It's a song of sadness
And of good cheer,
A song of great warmth
And no small fear.
The song of the masses
And the song of one,
The sound of breaking darkness in the night
And the music of the rising sun.
It's the melancholy in me
And great joy,
It's the deep desire to stay
And yet homeward go.
I know this song
And the tears it brings,
I hear this song
Within my heart, where it sings.
It leaves me lonely
But, never alone,
For it's ever with me
Singing of a place, called Home.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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We Are Dreams
Walk like children on river moonlight
Sovereign stars of infinite gentle topaz
She shines like spring waters
Laramie ribbons shoulder the dawn
Mountain mist with blue ice eyes
Drink from streams with no adultery
Inspiration from the winter sun
Green peppermint dreams
Purple dresses swoon the market
No twisted thorns shall ruin the day
Gifts of joy swell the river
Diamond smiles circle the night
Dusk has no war only ships of peace
Gardens march like childhood
Naïve blue sky speaks softly
The bass is deep like a galaxy
Wings bright as mellow gold
A voice of wisdom shall prevail
Lets wear flowers that sing
The shore brings scallion colors
We are revealed in naked mercy
The ages live like rainbows
Streets dance with embroidered sage
Aspen gather the singing stars
Made by fire in the ancient ways
Seeds with trees of angels
Growing in free gardens of peace
Tribes of gardens will win
No fear shall stand against love
We are the unorganized momentum
Turquoise grows like innocence
Isn’t it beautiful to feel the universe?
Rejoice amidst your eternal friends
We come up from the strange sea
Revel in the haunting wind
Eons sail in the pirate rainbows
Remember every tender touch
Every vibration sent by love
Shells with pink dawns sing
Time melts like centuries flow
We gather roses of mystical suns
Radiant waves sigh with stars
Paint your crayon hearts
We are dreams of infinite today
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Listen To Me Baby
Please listen to me baby,
You are my own sweet lady,
With you I'm meant to be
And tomorrow we will see
Blue skies everywhere.
A hotel stands in waiting
Rose gardens near the sea
Two hearts anticipating
A romance of ecstasy.
So hush your painful crying,
Very soon we will be flying
Once again I'll hear you sing
On a holiday in spring
No sadness anywhere.
A hotel stands in waiting
Rose gardens near the sea
Two hearts anticipating
A romance of ecstasy.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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The Melody Of Love
The melody of love!
It's such a beautiful moment!
When loving eyes meet,
The words you don't need.
The lightning sparks the hearts,
The holy union starts.
The melody of love was born.
The whole land it would adorn.
It's divinely beautiful,
It's graceful and faithful.
It's virgin pure,
It's impossible to reassure.
Its gusts are noble,
It's just youthful.
For two the nightingale sings,
For two God brings wings
And join their hearts.
For two a new life starts.
The melody of love!
It's just a tender touch.
It's beautiful as such.
It's beautiful in a dance,
It's beautiful in a sincere glance.
The melody of love!
It's in a tender kiss,
In tremulous words you miss.
It's the unit of two worlds
Swirled in one tight node,
No one knows its code.
The melody of love!
Hearts are filled with happiness,
Souls know only kindness,
There is no strength to part,
It's so light on the heart.
The melody of love!
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Hope Gardens Every Whisper
Hope gardens every whisper
Ever thought thoughtful flowers
A brocade of desire
Like dew-fall they are there to wander
The landscape of your dreams
To filter down and replenish
Every fallen leaf thereafter
Every jasmine is a star-gazer
White and pure in the now and hereafter
Hope gardens eternal
Just listen to the children's laughter
Their sudden mist of tears may fall
But search what happens after
Their limbs move gentler than the rain
When they in your arms are renewed
With your love again
Hope gardens every whisper
To a rainbows end we all must surrender
Pliant with; root in the earth, seeking heaven.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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The magic that the love brings
The love flows like a volcano to our hearts.
the love dumps unexplained feelings to our hearts.
the love takes away the huge loneliness, tobring the tender to our hearts.
the love brings the sweet emotions, to take away the sadnessfrom our hearts.
it takes away the cold and raining nights, withthe warmth that it brings.
it makes us feel that we are flying at the blue skies with magic that it makes.
it makes us feel our hearts beats with the adorable emotions that it brings.
it makes the days so short, when at the past they were so long.
it comes like a storm without warning.
it enters our hearts to make them burning.
it empires our soals tomake them soaring.
it captivates us that without it we stop living.
so my friend in my opinion this is the love.
and i guess there is nothing above.
and when we fall in love we can not go on living without.
and the life is wonderful when we are in love;
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Death and Dreams
Death, with it, brings silence,
the silence which conceals the voice of life,
the same voice in which dreams revertebrated,
so, with arriving death dreams die.
But, few dreams didn't surrender,
instead they chose to fight,
some fighters were experienced and some were tender,
but struugle for existance was thier common plight.
Oh! this battle wasn't for victory, but for existance,
on path of dreams death laid some fences,
the fences fo failure, the fences of defeat,
but, in the path of hope few made thier exit.
In fences of failure few dreams were caught,
enemy was destiny but will was not,
with power of optimism they tatterd the fence,
such a mighty blow even death couldn't defend.
Dreams marched ahead stunning the death,
they vanquished the region which once ablazed,
happy was the sky and soothing became night,
even death hailed dreams for this formidable fight.
Death, being, an end is now a myth,
the men by thier dreams will forever exist,
some people died and some will born,
but legacy of dreams wii go on.
poem by Chandra Kant Manas
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Norse lullaby
The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings,
As over the world his cloak he flings:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."
On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing,
And only the vine can hear her sing:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."
The king may sing in his bitter flight,
The tree may croon to the vine to-night,
But the little snowflake at my breast
Liketh the song I sing the best,--
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, anext my heart
Sleep, little one, sleep.
poem by Eugene Field
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Lovers Bliss......(a loss of true love)
Lovers Bliss
She wept with sorrow her tears down fall
Upon the ground of blood and gore
There in lies her lover's heart
That beats no more close to hers
Her heart that is heavy with out lover's bliss
She sends out a cry of gruesome death
'Why have thou forsaken me
And left me broken in sorrow and gloom'
Her tears doth fall
Like a waterfall at the loss
Of her lover in their lover's bliss no more
She recalls the days thine heart and soul left her arms
They held each other in arms entwine
Thou whispered softly upon her ears
I shall return to our lover's bliss
The memories linger on in her mind
As it dapples across her dreams
Thine tender hands caressed my soul
With loving hands a burning aching need
The passion intense with each passing kiss
We climb on high at the ecstasy of love and bliss
She cries a mountain of tears
As the memories linger on in her dreams
So deathly quite she stands atop a cliff
And trembles with remorse and pain
How can she live her life?
With out their lover's bliss
Looking towards the twilight skies
She screams at the stars above
"Crushed am I no more to live I need you by my side"
Then taking a step into the dark abyss
She joins her lover in eternal bliss
© Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George
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Golden Kiss
await your roses in my dreams
Carriages of the troubadour well
Castles in fauve visions of Keats
Every cryptic flower sings of you
Now the world is extravagant grace
Elegant tendrils of spring’s rapture
Colors of the gardens divine wisdom
Love plants vines of mystic wine
Poetry as soft as summer flutes
My darling your eyes are like a forest
Night brings lips of serene moonlight
Joy shines over the sea of harmony
Adagios of romance like mystic begonias
Stars swirl and we are the dance of wind
Cupid has sent his sweet nightingales
Fountains of your heart pour into bliss
I am awakened by a golden kiss
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Movements and Sounds
Can you hear that great and powerful sound
That brings shock to the earth and the sky?
There has never been anything so fierce.
I walk on this path seeing the grand journey
But have never heard anything so pure,
It gives a jolt to my heart and brings life.
When have you ever been so fulfilled in life
That your body aches at a simple sound?
The beating of my heart rings fast and pure,
My pounding chest reflects the living sky.
The clouds move swiftly, everlasting journey
To nowhere, they move so vividly fierce.
The wind sings its song, passionate and fierce.
The earth breathes her in and feels a new life.
Inhale and exhale, she’s on her journey
As the earth listens, taking in the sound
That shatters panes, coming from the black sky.
Still there is nothing that could be so pure.
But how can anyone say sounds are pure?
They scream and shout to the earth so fiercely,
Out of reach, elevated in the sky.
Yet, the screams exhilarate my small life
And I smile every time I hear the sound,
I move faster to fulfill my journey.
Step by step my shadow takes its journey
But it does not understand why the pure
Noise exhilarates. Shaken by the sound
Again, my heart stands strong and my bones fierce,
Holding the nerves and blood that brings me life
As my hands reach out toward the vast sky.
“I will cry out loudly, ” said the Sky
“To help your body move for your journey.
I am the great supplier of your life,
I am what makes this earth so calm and pure
Only with a whisper of this loud sound.”
Moving fast, wind and I one, run fiercely.
Hear the penetrating sound from the sky.
You become fierce each step of the journey
And feel ever pure as you welcome new life.
poem by Michelle Slaney
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Nails In My Feet
My life is a house
You crawl through the window
Skip across the floor and into the reception room
You enter the place of endless persuasion
Like a knock on the door
When there's ten or more things to do
Who is that calling?
You my companion
Run to the water on a burning beach
And it brings me relief
Pass through the walls
To find my intentions
Circle 'round in a strange, hypnotic state
I look into space
There is no connection
A million points of light
And a conversation I can't face
Cast me off one day
To lose my inhibition
Sit like a lap dog on the edge of his knee
Wear the nails on your feet
I woke up the house
Stumbled in sideways
The lights went on and everybody screamed "Surprise!"
The savage review
It left me gasping
But it warms my heart to see that you can do it too
Total surrender
Your touch is so tender
Your skin is like water on a burning beach
And it brings me relief, it brings me relief, it brings me relief
Like a night in your mind
It brings me relief
In the back door
Under the stars
And the scenery is my flaw
In the back room
Under the stars
And the scenery is my flaw
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Knocker
There are those who grow
gardens in their heads
paths lead from their hair
to sunny and white cities
it's easy for them to write
they close their eyes
immediately schools of images
stream down their foreheads
my imagination
is a piece of board
my sole instrument
is a wooden stick
I strike the board
it answer me
yes--yes
no--no
for others the green bell of a tree
the blue bell of water
I have a knocker
from unprotected gardens
I thump on the board
and it prompts me
with the moralists dry poem
yes--yes
no--no
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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A Love Song from the North
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,
Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha,
Dreams of delight that are gone,
When swift to my side came the feet of my lover
With stars of the dusk and the dawn?
I see the soft wings of the clouds on the river,
And jewelled with raindrops the mango-leaves quiver,
And tender boughs flower on the plain.....
But what is their beauty to me, papeeha,
Beauty of blossom and shower, papeeha,
That brings not my lover again?
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,
Wouldst thou revive in my heart, papeeha
Grief for the joy that is gone?
I hear the bright peacock in glimmering woodlands
Cry to its mate in the dawn;
I hear the black koel's slow, tremulous wooing,
And sweet in the gardens the calling and cooing
Of passionate bulbul and dove....
But what is their music to me, papeeha
Songs of their laughter and love, papeeha,
To me, forsaken of love?
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Fear and Pleasure
pain is the residuals of fear, there is no fear in
the absent of acceptance, for only the mind
can rebuke the suffering of the heart
as the truth comes in a most awaited moment of
your life, the wisdom identify the soul of where
the conscience lives, it is the fear of the Lord where
the wisdom begins; a complete vow and obedient
to the giver of knowledge would guide every pleasure
to overcome fear
entangled between fear and pleasure destroyed the
unifying force that strengthen each aura to a seeking
soul to feel and accept pleasure without fear
make this fear a pleasure of strength, for what
ever encountered pleasure the one who give this
fear, be pleasured in His creation
be the pleasure be assured that what make best
for everybody may leads us to the unity of the soul
that lives in each conscience we possess
the fearless warriors has awaken the pleasure that
the Lord God bestowed, never fear of what pleasure
comes in your life, harmonize the soul with in your
conscience and live the body with the heart that exist
a fear that brings pleasure is a human impulse of
what to become worthy to the kingdom of the God, for
what ever is given, is a gift received and be shared
to all mankind..... and the acceptance brings us to
the pleasure without fear
poem by Antonio Liao
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Those birds
Those birds outside your window at dawn
singing all at once fit to bust –
did you know they migrate from Islam
in the fighting season?
They’re all Sufis: they sleep all night
with the Beloved; and in the morning
they exchange the jokes they heard,
the pillow talk from the night before sleep;
then the blackbird and the thrush
weave these into stories which they sing
all day; then at night the nightingale
makes them all into one beautiful poem
about being intoxicated into song
by the wine of Shiraz; the rose-water wafers;
and how those who say
that one cannot be intoxicated
by the longing for the One
have proved themselves wrong
and proved the nightingale right
as you can know in yourself
when the nightingale sings of this
to the heart’s light pulsing in the stars.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Maker
Oh, Oh Deep water
Black, and cold like the night
I stand with arms wide open
I've run a twisted mile
I'm a stranger
in the eyes of the maker
I could not see
for fog in my eyes
I could not feel
for the fear in my life
From across the great divide
In the distance i saw a light
Jean baptiste
walking to me with the maker
My body is bent and broken
by long and dangerous sleep
I can work the fields of abraham
and turn my head away
I'm not a stranger
in the hands of the maker
Brother john
Have you seen the homeless daughters
standing there
with broken dreams
I have seen the flaming swords
there over east of eden
burning in the eyes of the maker
burning in the eyes of the maker
burning in the eyes of the maker
burning in the eyes of the maker
oh river rise from your sleep
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pieces Of You In A Pair Of Dreams (chapter two)
'So, I've decided to write in this language, instead of my own,
not to madden you, but to make it less personal.
It was silly of me to think that in your eyes I'm more than the hero that killed your butterflies.
I can't even write.
Look at my poems.
They're ridiculously ugly, just like me.'
That night,
I saw the giant white moon reflected on your lips,
and I kissed It.
It tasted more like you, than like her.
It had your parfume too,
and the whole world was jelous,
on me and on you, for we were happy
like Romeo and Juliet, like Adam and Eve, like Tristan and Isolde, and like Dante and his Beatrice,
one meant for the other.
Wearing the black dress of night
you were like the queen of the giants,
a flower that huged the sun without the fear that has you now.
And now, well is different,
but I still write of your stories from the land of my dreams.
And as like before, when I write
I'm not brave, I'm just scared of calling you.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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My Maiden In Waiting
From hither came a sound roaring in temperate pastures
To keep at bay soldiers ponder not for shall we waken the beast
Beating back impulses the monster as risen from the lair
Swooping down on the innocent villagers he flew
The dragon lurks while the Maiden slumbers in her keep
Pasty butterfly wall the snake shall creep
One sting lay the maiden fair will capture
Valiant the black knight charges to slay the beast
With tender hands she embraces the serpent anaconda king
Lollipop dreams and cream fill cake to bake we make
Stirring in strawberry fields echo such sweetness be
Vaguely she remembered, from her distant passed, her flower erupts with feelings
Ride the dragon ride by and by she cries in joyful nuisance
Withdrawing the black knight tasted the cavern fruit she lays
Like and ice cream melting in the sun he devours her fruit of her passion
In circular motion his speech apparatus moves as she moans
Soft and wet slow the motion for now rivers run true
Contrivance protrudes sapping sweet nectar from the vine
She twists and turns while the dragon burns and yearns the fruit of her womb
She screams and scratches the Black Knight’s back as he feast on Joyful fruit
Contentment no more can stand she braces for the dragon’s penetration
The dragon swims deeper and deeper to crevasses untouched by mortals
She calls out his name “Sir Knight! Sir Knight! Well your labor be! ”
Grabbing the knight, yon maiden pulls him even deeper than before
Spreading her joy wide enters the dragon to warm waters
Sliding back and forth to a perfect fit, the dragon roars as the body trembles
Scream maiden screams as the dragon penetrates the fertile soil
Motions blurring as the battle grows ever fierce
She pulls him deep, tighter with every member thrust
Crying out in the night as tensions come to ecstasy
Sweet release the monster sleeps
As the night fades to dawn the black knight leaves a rose to signify his love
Having never felt such passion the maiden bestow her love
Mint chocolate and vanilla cream taste lingers in dwelling
Delectable fruits eaten to fulfillment desires
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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