En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Sonnet: On Crucial Times

They test my patience severely, some souls,
When success lurks around the corner just;
No more am I a square peg in round holes;
No more will my books gather house-dust.

The world looks down upon an artist new,
And discourages talents found galore;
The righteous and the sane persons are few;
But why worry when God opened my door.

Determination is the primal key;
Unlocking truthfully labour's pad-lock;
And sacrifice of precious time's, the fee;
Before an artist dons his glorious frock.

In some more time, the world will accept him,
And life will always shine, never be grim.

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet -Indelible Art?

How far an artist takes his art forward?
If labour hard is continued for long,
It dedication has not disappeared,
And Pride has not polluted his art’s song.

One's art improves if Will of God is there;
If Luck and Pluck come timely to his aid;
If vices poison not his mind to err;
And love enters his art when it is made.

For art lives longer than the artist's age;
And brings alive the beauty it derived;
All life, the artist must truly manage;
To perfect works of art in which he’d strived.

Such art alone will stand the test of time,
For it has made the Artist's life sublime.

poem by John Celes
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The Artist

The Artist and his Luckless Wife
They lead a horrid haunted life,
Surrounded by the things he's made
That are not wanted by the trade.

The world is very fair to see;
The Artist will not let it be;
He fiddles with the works of God,
And makes them look uncommon odd.

The Artist is an awful man,
He does not do the things he can;
He does the things he cannot do,
And we attend the private view.

The Artist uses honest paint
To represent things as they ain't,
He then asks money for the time
It took to perpetrate the crime.

poem by Sir Walter Raleigh
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Value Fever Pitch: An Artist’s Time

Bhoman F Jamhari said

'I am an artist - This does not
mean I will work for free.
I have bills just like you.
Thank you for understanding.'

Polite and to the problematic point.

Anyone who thinks believes
an artist’s time is worthless,
is definitely a person an artist
should avoid; such individuals

cannot comprehend
or remotely understand
aesthetic value of art.

Art takes time to produce.

Vision and artistic skill takes
even longer to realize to attain
expanding horizons. Time costs.

Artists of differing genre value
appreciate each other and art
which suits their temperament.

To create art
is the life blood
of an artist.

The air we breathe
is the home of art.

Creativity is our fevered mind songs
we sing in a legacy of image visions.

What kind of a con artist wants
to steal bread from an artist’s mouth;

therefore limiting the quality quantity
of future works of art, to be produced
by that artist. Answer an enemy of art.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Assassin, the Artist, and the Dog

Walking across this dangerous land
In this magical but corrupted world
The assassin, the artist, and the dog travel

This world is unbalanced
It surely is a world in ruin

The assassin, the artist, and the dog travel
And they know
That to survive
They must fight
Whether they like it or not

The assassin has his dangerous swords
and sharpened throwing tools
The artist has her enchanted paintbrushes
and magical paints
The dog has his bark and bite
And that's good enough for him
Everything else is perfect for the rest of them

During the day
During the night
As they travel along
It's a world on the brink of madness
But the assassin, the artist, and the dog know
of that
They know of the choices and chances they'll
have to make and take
It's tough out there to survive
But they know what it will take
They know what the world is like
They know how the world is

poem by Justin Gildow
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A round round Ball

i like the concept of God
perfection in imperfection
a round round ball no artist
could paint without making lesser round

i like the
perpetual Driver in me
perfection seeker amid imperfections
a spirit perpetually
desiring to do beter
today than yesterday
to be closer one's goal -
a round round ball no artist could do justice to

i like the concept of the homo sapiens
a transient world cruising through eternal
rising and falling, falling and rising
beside a round round ball no artist could do
without making lesser round

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Truth about Earthly Life

’Tis not in what you are but how you are;
’Tis not in what you do but how you do;
’Tis not in what state you’re but how you made it;
It is not in getting awards but befittingly!

This world isn’t perfect; nor are we;
This world isn’t fair and so are we;
This life isn’t lasting and ends fast;
We all tend to soon be things of past!

Think of the unfortunate souls then;
They are so miserable for no fault of theirs;
Think of the love and kindness we have got
From God, although we do not deserve.

Success in life is just one thing;
But how its got matters most;
Failure is a step below success,
But goads persons to live a life sane.

Let’s make the world a better place;
Let’s fight against forces of evil;
Let’s acknowledge the supreme God.
Let’s live lives humbly, amicably.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-27-2009

poem by John Celes
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Who Gets To Play Artist?

who gets
to play artist
for a few years
for a life time
as life artist?

for a life time
mostly full time
or part time
art time
is fool time?

or real time
sacred time?

poem by Terence George Craddock
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God Amply Blesses Righteous Souls

At last, some things do happen much sought for,
in strange a manner, and in God’s own time;
The world is taken aback by such feats –
those happen by mere trust in Almighty!

God blesses righteous souls in mighty ways!
Our prayers can bring forth miracles quite fast;
God does not forsake nor abandon souls;
His love for righteousness is too steadfast.

The world looks down upon all righteous souls;
Yet, truth triumphs always ultimately;
Our foes and friends cannot believe their eyes;
God showers blessings on His beloved souls.

The righteous win against such heavy odds;
When God does things, He does them perfectly;
Our earthly tries end up in vanity,
But God gives upright souls some thumping wins.

Let worry not engulf one’s heart and mind;
Keep purity of soul foremost in life;
Sin shouldn’t decrease the bond of man with God;
God does great things if one truly deserves!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 10-11-2008

poem by John Celes
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Talents Die Easily In Africa!

Oh talents, oh talents!
Talents do die easily in Africa;
But, talents are special gifts which,
Money cannot buy.
It is a special gift,
It is in you,
You don't even need a Higher Degree for them;
Talents are everywhere on this earth.

The talents of Africa do die very often,
Who is even ready to listen to them?
The true talents of the Africans go to the drain.
Like a rain on a train,
Like an early wake up call without a view;
Life is really so strange over here in Africa.

I have a dream!
But, who will listen?
My brain is with various talents but,
Who will help me with my dreams?
Talents, talents, talents! !
Africa turns to regress in this field while,
Others do progress!

Our talents can be useful,
It's time we give a helping hand;
Oh talents, oh talents!
It's time we listen to those who have them;
Cos', we are the world.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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On Being Patient

Patient persons seldom lose;
Winning always seems their forte;
Time may not be on their side;
But in life, there’s no defeat!

Patience is a virtuous trait –
Key to success in all fields;
Though the odds are very great,
God is always on their side!

Patience makes a brave heart calm;
Tussles end in glorious ways;
Struggles seem simply trivial;
Battles end victoriously!

Patient men can earn a lot;
Patience gives an edge to all;
Patience turns the tide of things;
Patience brings expected ends.

Patience fountain rises high,
Baffling people’s minds and hearts;
Patience comes by sustained toil,
Bringing cheers to all who seek!

A patient soul unnerves foes;
None can take him for granted;
Life is rosy till the end;
Charm of patience grows always!

poem by John Celes
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A Grass Flower

He was all the more a grass flower,
How can he gather any fame?
But he was not the one to accept his defeat,
And made, success his only aim.

He succeeded in establishing his strong base,
Comprising his hard work and determination,
His struggle in life made him a man successful,
And the day came when he was crowned with GOLD CARNATION.

But oh Lord Jesus!
This cruel world can’t see a man rising,
In this ever changing human race,
He was badly suppressed by the world,
But he was still standing due to, in HIM his faith.

Though he was considered a meadow flower,
But not taking himself as a looser, he worked hard,
And now this grass flower was totally ripened,
And now he became a precious GOLDEN FLOWER

poem by Himanshu Saxena
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An artist never works under ideal conditions. If they existed, his work wouldn't exist, for the artist doesn't live in a vacuum. Some sort of pressure must exist. The artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn't look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world. This is the issue in Andrey Rubliov.

quote by Andrei Tarkovsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In the World of Frail-Brick Words

I diligently built a solid world of
Frail-brick-words around you
When winds of fear
Uproot me from
All possible directions
I cling to your torso
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Going round and round
In the square fantasy of yours
I always miss the centre
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

You're always on look out
To live a fantasy; travelled against
Time to reach my solid world
Of frail-brick-words
Expecting to drench yourself
In raining silver droplets

I traversed across
Terrains unknown to you
Sipping at the venom of
Reality for vigour, investing
Every nth part with an aura
Of fantasy in the solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Midway
We met

Between you and I
The dichotomy of
Your fantasy
My reality
Opened a newer dimension
Of realantasy to grapple with
Ah, this solid world
Of frail-brick-words!

In my snatches of proximity(?)
To the threshold of your world
I sought my own happiness
My very own sorrow...
The slightly opened door
Blended excellently
The lethal reality with
Honey-oozing fantasy
To brew a magic potion
To savour in my solitude
In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words

Every touch of your fingers
Hoisted flags of unexpressed sorrow
That rustled in every other life

Whoever said,
Life and living is
A cuppa one relaxes with?

You know
Those lucky, get a door
Opened to live a fantasy, at least
For a wink and there just in that
Fleeting moment of time
You traveled against time to grab
And encase yourself in a dropp of silver
Within the coarsely granulated
World of my frail-brick-words

In this solid world
Of frail-brick-words
The gush of words
You released on my wrinkling skin
Arrange themselves time and again
As what the world calls poetry
The words flip flap against
My make-believe-sky
And in the solid tomb where
I rest forever irrespective of seasons
Where pain or pleasure
Can no longer touch me

Ah, my very own solid world
Of frail-brick-words...

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Sonnet: Art is Longer than Life

Much longer stays Art than an Artist’s life,
Whose earthly work is almost eternal!
His sculptures/ monuments though raised ’midst strife,
Can make any mortal, quite immortal.

The year’s consumed in the wake of an art,
His indomitable spirit and patience,
Can him enormous wealth on earth impart,
Or reward him with glory that is dense.

Each stone erected crumbles to powder;
Every painting can’t withstand time’s weather;
Inscriptions may be forgotten, brother;
But Art will live on and on much longer!

Oh, what hands made an Artist’s hands and brain!
He’s the Master Artist who brings the Rain.

poem by John Celes
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Our Soldiers

A loaf of bread inside his hat

The young soldier was found there

At the middle of the road

His pure body was laying down there alone

Ah adorable ones broken are our hearts

How an ugly an admiring fact

The difference between the both

The goodness and the Badness

The destruction and sacrifice

How can some destroy and steal lives

The existence of the both

Simply two extreme points

The darkness of the haters souls

And the lightened pure spirited souls

How if we look to the world through soldiers pure souls

How peaceful would be the world for whole

On behalf of protecting other's lives they sacrifice their lives

For their country's sake and for their prides

Our martyrs the heroes who deserve the heavens above

Those who sacrifice their precious lives on behalf of others pride

Will forever live in our hearts adorable precious ones

poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Square Peg, Round Hole

He's a square peg in a round hole
Misfit in a slick world
Don't play the game
Don't do what he's told
He's a square peg in a round hole
Square peg don't care
The bright lights he's not there
Catch the shadows see him slip away
Square peg that's what they say
Square peg, Suare peg
Square peg, you have got to be strong
Square peg, he's got his own song
Square peg, I'll see you around
Square peg, face down
Square peg, round hole

song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling Off The Edge Of The World

I think about closing the door
And lately I think of it more
Im living well out of my time
I feel like Im losing my mind
I should be at the table round
A servant of the crown
The keeper of the sign
To sparkle and to shine
Never, no never again!
Listen to me and believe what I say if you can
Never, this is the end
You know Ive seen the faces of doom and Im only a man
Help me, tell me Im sane
I feel a change in the earth, in the wind and the rain
Save me, take me away
You know Ive seen some creatures from hell and Ive heard what they say!
Ive got to be strong
Oh, Im falling off the edge of the world
Think youre safe, but youre wrong!
We are falling off the edge of the world!
Look out! theres danger! no where to run!
It seems like desperate measures but sometimes it has to be done
Over, its over at last
Theres a message inside as we build a new life from the past
Were falling off the edge of the world!
Yes, the edge of the world!
Its the end of the world!

song performed by by Black Sabbath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We’re creators by permission, by grace as it were. No one creates alone, of and by himself. An artist is an instrument that registers something already existent, something which belongs to the whole world, and which, if he is an artist, he is compelled to give back to the world.

quote by Henry Miller
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Traffic Jam: The Trap Of Traffic Light

It's not only test your luck, but also test your patience
It's not only test your guts, but also test your instinct
It's not only test your sanity, but also test your obedience to law
It's not only test your ethics, but also test your fidelity
It's not only test your sight, but also test your reflex
It's not only test your estimation of time, but also test your street knowledge
It's not only test your ego, but also test your kindness
It's not only test your control, but also test your awareness
It's not only test your attitude, but also test your responsibility
It's not only test your priority, but also test your humanity

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A Nude Artist

A Nude Artist

he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints

such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist

a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist

there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken

just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist

an artist is not an art
he must know that

- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -

 

poem by Suchoon Mo_
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