The Colder The Air
We must admire her perfect aim,
this huntress of the winter air
whose level weapon needs no sight,
if it were not that everywhere
her game is sure, her shot is right.
The least of us could do the same.
The chalky birds or boats stand still,
reducing her conditions of chance;
air's gallery marks identically
the narrow gallery of her glance.
The target-center in her eye
is equally her aim and will.
Time's in her pocket, ticking loud
on one stalled second. She'll consult
not time nor circumstance. She calls
on atmosphere for her result.
(It is this clock that later falls
in wheels and chimes of leaf and cloud.)
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Final Call (Couplet)
A passing day like an autumn leaf, falls
From the tree of Time and marks the Age that calls.
The ticking of the clock tells what we face
The Fate of all flesh, the end of our days.
Where Destiny wears the cloak 'Forever'
As we cross that door to comeback never,
The winter chills of Fear may make us see
Live well this life to rest eternally.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
11.8.12
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Travellers gallery
Travellers gallery
~
welcome to the travellers gallery
the windows frame a world
from water coloured rivers
to pastel forests and fields
sketched out towns spread out
between charcoal cities
nameless people, faces
all passing in a hurry
the travellers gallery presents
a life in motion exhibition
all in natural hue colour
by bus, train or car
the landscape and portraits
become ingrained in memory
welcome to the travellers gallery
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Maryanne Webber Gallery
Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maryanne Webber Gallery
Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Gagosian Gallery
gagasian gallery
gage gallery
age gallery
age galley
age alley
age lye
alley
lye
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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Time in Hell
I float in time with open mind...
A quest; a chance of riddled thought:
Infinity squared, then seek to find
An answer; pained and overwrought,
I dodder with an addled head;
Befuddled, merging with a haze of
Mysticism, then to tread
A metaphoric swamp – a maze
Of existentialism…
But now for time to tick in rhyme
With ‘tock’ – a clock to tell thro’ chime
Precisely on the knell
That as I dared to understand,
I must be deep in Hell…
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Time
Time, time
Time, time, time, time
Ticking time, timing time
Time and time and time in time is time
for time in Hell is time and time for time, is time
Oh time is time, time, time, ticking time in Hell
Ticking time, timing time
Time, time, time, time
Time time
Time
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Capitol Art
Snuggled in the Nation’s Capital
You’ll never believe what we saw
An art gallery so wonderful
It was truly an exceptional draw
Cowboy art sure takes you back
To the old western days
Cowboys with rope in hand
Gathering up all the strays
An early part of American history
And the perfect place in which to find
In our Capital in Washington DC
We must not leave history behind
If you ever get a chance, my friend
To tour this extraordinary place
Take advantage of this art gallery
For history we should never waste!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Tickin Away
The clock above the bar
Is telling me its 12:15
And its not such a gentle reminder
That Im where I shouldnt be
I just keep waiting for something to happen
Waiting for somebody to come walking in
Somebody as perfect as you were
So I can try it again
(but) chances are so hard to come by
And the second one is impossible to find
The clock keep running
And the odds keep getting higher
That its all just a fantasy of mine
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
There aint nobody in the world like you baby
If there was, she wouldnt be coming in here
But I shouldnt be thinking about it
I shouldnt be worried about it
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
Yeah, its ticking away
Its ticking away
Its just a clock on the wall
But its ticking away
I suppose I should cut all my losses
Go home with a six-pack of beer
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The gallery of my heart
The gallery of my heart
~
Like a portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
A girl of undoubted beauty
Breathtaking and full of wonder
Holds my gaze completely
I find my words flowing
In a river of adoration
I dedicate her my soul
There is a girl of beauty
Beyond which none compare
Painted to a memory
In the gallery of my heart
The softness of her eyes
A warmth to her lips
Fair skin and cascading hair
What love may imagine
When looking upon
A girl in portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Gambler
(coverdale/galley)
Ive been a gypsy
For a thousand years
A victim of circumstance
I go wherever my destiny calls
Im caught in a game of chance
I stand on the outside
Looking at love
I wanna get inside
I stand on the outside
Looking at love
Just trying to get inside
No fame or fortune,
No luck of the draw
When I dance with queen of hearts
A jack of all trades
But, a loser in love
Its tearing my soul apart
Still I stand on the outside
Looking at love
I wanna get inside
I stand on the outside
Looking in
I stand on the outside
Looking at love
Just trying to get inside
I stand on the outside
Looking in
The jack of diamonds
An the ace of spades
Try to use me, and to abuse me
It seems the dealer
Wont give me a chance
Im victim of circumstance
So I stand on the outside
Looking at love
I wanna get inside
I stand on the outside
Looking in
So I stand on the outside
Looking at love
Just trying to get inside
I stand on the outside
Looking in...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through Nights of Thunder
A few moments and then snap
None is there in the gallery to clap
Yet be on the road, the job is not done
You are still left with a long way to run.
Through nights of thunder and days of fire
You may slow down, the body may tire
But get up and go soon, the job is not done
Something is always left, you must run.
The merciless time is so fast ticking away
The path often elusive, your mind may sway
You can't afford to pause, with so much undone
You have to get going, cannot end the run.
You are the master, you fired the shot
You and your dream, they're all you got
So little is covered, still much to be done
You must go on, there's a long way to run.
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Summer Chimes and Summer Wines
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer sounds of summer time,
Bringing all that nature is,
That shows and sounds like,
Summer chimes,
Chimes of soft winds,
Chimes of soft river streams,
Sounds that say of that time and season,
That summer time sounds so sweet,
It rings the sounds of summer chimes,
With rays of sunlight streaming by,
Summer chimes with summer wines,
Can be the momentum interludes of summer times,
When summer time is to be,
There in natures places,
Full of bloom and hidden places,
Where,
Listening to the summer chimes,
Of summer time,
And sitting and drinking,
A summer wine,
With the summer chimes,
And summer wines,
With summer and its nature sounds,
Bringing out the musical chimes,
Of summer sounds,
Along with summer chance,
And the per chance that evolves,
Bringing summer chimes,
With summer wines,
Of true summer chance,
With love intwined,
And summer wine,
So if per chance,
To meet again,
That evolves and begins,
From summer meets,
Bringing that summer chance,
To summer chimes,
With summer wines,
That begins and lasts,
Within in the hearts of those,
That let per chance happen,
And fall in love,
Then it will continue all year long,
For those that took the chance,
In summer chance,
And let the per chance,
Take it course,
And win,
For love to hear,
The summer chimes,
Sipping summer wine.
poem by Ellen Ni Bheachain
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I love the gallery, the arena of representation. It's a commercial world, and morality is based generally around economics, and that's taking place in the art gallery.
quote by Jeff Koons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning The Boats
The government have announced
That london bridge is to be closed
Under the full moon of may the third
All the light houses and seaside roads
No I never heard I never read in the news
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Tap, tap, tap, birds that sing,
Telephone calls that do not ring,
One, two, three, whats the time ?
Whos that hanging off my line ?
I know that nothing lasts for ever
And Im just waiting for the sun to set
Blowing dust from my loud hailer, on the roof.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
The ministry of co-operation
Are washed and hanging on the line
Theres a million burning questions
To set the thames alight
Now Ive joined an exclusive club
Just by being more than poor
I saw the deputy chairman, on the floor.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Speed of Time
Again the sun painted the sky blue, orange, gray;
Then through the castles of clouds a full moon shines,
With every earth’s breath let the wind chimes play,
While the birds dwell in their leafy shrines,
Below the horizon in the heat of this long thirsty summer,
Golden-green hays crept to the dawn of autumn,
While the big appetite of gnawing mammals kept waiting,
The chill of winter came in the very speed of time.
As each sunrise unveils the snow-covered mountains,
Patches of snow pursed in to icy-pocket of the river,
While the scents of wild flowers perfume the atmosphere,
The choir of birds now welcome the birth of spring.
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Me-Time Continuum
I watch the clock ticking out its time.
I hear the gears tocking 'till the chime…
I hold my stare acutely
And focus ears astutely.
The whole gestalt of this assault by me on clock
Collapses in to hence become
A new me-time continuum,
This clock and I a vacuum;
Dial and me, we've come to be
A synergistic, fatalistic victim,
Hmm…
When it ticks, I then tock:
I am me as well as clock.
When it tocks, I then tick.
We burn together down the wick
In candle wax, both cold and warm,
Together now in molten form.
We jump the side but soon to stall,
Only to solidify
Until the active plateau
Chases…
Down…
Sinking…
To melt again the bit that ran (us) –
All in a time storm
With timeless plan.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Ti me time time time time time time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time
Time time
Time time time
Time time time time time
Time time time time time time time time time
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Time melts
The clock on the shelf marks time
and even as we watch it chimes.
I kiss your lips and then
time just melted again!
My children oh so small
are now full grown and tall!
Life passed me by and now
I'm old and grey.
Who will come and save me
from this crazy race I'm in?
Time flies and I, who thought I still had time,
didn't see it melt away.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Between the Now and Then
Upon horizon, night to day ~
there between the now and then,
I often pause along the way,
to tiptoe through the moonlit glen ~
or perhaps take in sun's light,
night to day ~ day to night.
Upon horizon, day to day ~
there between the then and now,
as seasons grow along the way,
to crease the face of timely brow ~
or perhaps steal time away,
day to day ~ day to day.
Upon horizon, day to night ~
there between the now and then,
I stand beneath my autumn light,
bereft as memory calls again ~
to pain the heart with bygone sight,
Night to day ~ day to night.
Upon horizon, night to night ~
there between the then and now,
I know that winter casts its sight,
on one last leaf that will not bow ~
to frost within its golden sight,
night to night ~ night to night.
Upon horizon, night to day ~
there between the now and then,
I know my spring will fade away,
and summer's soft remember when
will echo gently autumn's way ~
day to night ~ night to day....
Winter's near ~ Winter's near......
poem by Hazelmarie Elliott
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Eternity
Into a lifetime of the time[? ]
See flowers bloom then fade to dust
I watch each moment sadly die
Time the[? ] stranger called me here
Fields before me I walk alone
Each tear that falls is lost forever
And this illusion where time has its way
Stripping away the future
People standing still, waiting for a tomorrow that never comes
Eternity, deserting me
While time just passes by
Eternity, deserting me
Time...
Time...
My soul has touched [? ] isolation
The ticking clock of passing time who never stops to see today
Time the[? ] stranger called me here
Fields before me I walk alone
Each tear that falls is lost forever
Eternity, deserting me
While time just passes by
Eternity, deserting me
Eternity, it calls me
While time just passes by
Eternity, deserting me
Time...
Time...
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time's Ticking Away
The pendulum swings,
In such a perpetual way,
It keeps on moving,
In a continuous sway.
The momentum decides,
Time's passing on,
A tick on the clock,
And the moment is gone.
The pendulum swings,
To left and to right,
Time's ticking along,
In mad rhythmic flight.
And as it moves onwards,
Time's ticking away,
There's no way of stopping,
The road to decay.
The pendulum swings,
Another second goes by,
The clock's keeping time,
But time wants to fly.
By night and by day,
Time never stands still,
The pendulum swings,
At 'Time's' endless will.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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