En.Citatepedia^®.ro

A Captivating Sight

The artist's brush scoops up the shades of green,
and creates a scene.
Trees, banks, deep valleys, fields and gentle hills,
how the picture fills.
Some vivid yellows in the sunshine's rays,
on his canvas, blaze.
Rich blue envisaged in the summer sky,
is the perfect dye.
Such subtle shadows to be applied in black,
require the knack.
The whole portrayal is a captivating sight,
with highlights, white.
Then somewhere you'll find a signature in grey,
inscribed - Manet.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sunshine after The Rain

The sunshine after the rain
The grey darkness is gone
The sun back mighty in glory
crowned with golden rays
Sending love and warmth
to inhabitants of the world
Nature beauty is revealed
in remarkable way
the rain water drops lingering
kissing the roses,
the flowers and lilies
spreading over the fields
the pastures sparkling green
the awesome trees
the skies painted in crystal blue
the white shades of clouds
slowly passing
All bringing joy
nourishing our soul
The sunshine
The sunshine after the rain

poem by Sherif Monem
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The Wild Hills

Fly me across the wild hills in autumn,
With soft amber shades, brown, russet and brick,
Peach, copper and bronze all blending together,
A carpet of sadness, in this sight so tragic.

Fly me across the wild hills in winter,
With amethyst shades, puce, purple and grey,
Blue, ebony and pewter, all fusing together,
A carpet of starkness, in this scene of decay.

Fly me across the wild hills in springtime,
With pale emerald shades, sage, olive and lime,
White, yellow and silver, all mingling together,
A carpet of lushness, in this new view sublime.

Fly me across the wild hills in summer,
With magenta bright shades, pink, dark mauve and red,
Lemon, orange and gold all in harmony together,
A carpet of richness, in this panorama spread.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Master Artist

I watched a sunset one lovely
summer day. I watched as
the sun went slowly away.
Leaving behind colors of gorgeous
hue, shining there on the
sky so blue.
Watching the sunset that summer day
made me realize that along my way,
God makes His greatness plain in his own way,
Like sunsets, flowers and trees, winding rivers, deep blue seas,
silvery moon and twinkling stars.
All of these more lovely by far than any human could make them.
Scenes so beautiful no artist could paint,
to create such beauty, human being just can't.
For God is the artist, the master,
you see, creating such a beauty for you and me.
Autumn's Invitation Autumn is in her glory
All dressed in her beautiful ball gown,
Designed in the lovely fall colors
Of hues of red, green, and brown. Autumn is having a party,
All are invited to come
And join in the gay festivities,
Held in the autumn sun. All are invited to walk in gardens
on all the hills and vales,
And enjoy the blaze of vivid
tints and fragrances
On all the hills and dales. She has her sky a clear bright blue,
Her breezes are balmy too,
Making the weather just right
For each guest to enjoy the things they do. So won't you attend her party?
Autumn is inviting you,
Come and enjoy the hospitality
That autumn offers you.

poem by Velma G. Robinson
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Garden Wall

The ivy 'tis climbing the Olde Garden Wall...
Leaving green memory not too far behind--
While the later zephyrs of Summer dance ever near...
'Tis a perfect picture out of days past time;
Oh-the Golden of memories-sweetest...
How it plays iteself in my minds eye...
Gentle surrender-in Loves Garden-tender...
'Neath a canopy of Summer Blue sky;
Paint me a picture again won't you?
Make it verdant and blossomed anew--
Give it the peace and serenity so needed--
Brush stroke perfect again-my loving moments with you;

The Essence
July,2010

poem by Theodora Onken
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As An Artist

As an artist,

I carefully paint
a picture on my
canvas

with each stroke
I wipe away a tear

causing a smile to
reappear

As an artist

I endow your face
with my brush

making it more
perfect as I go

until at last the
image of my love
I see.

poem by Heather Burns
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October Day

The bright white clouds against the blue
are moving slowly, passing through.
Their shadows cast upon the ground
move slowly too without a sound.
The winter sunshine’s slanted rays.
Join in the game and seem to chase
the shadows which the clouds have cast
Shining brightly when they’ve passed.
The sky is clear unbroken blue.
It feels a little warmer too.
A little sunshine does I find
lift up my spirits change my mind
about the way I view the day
I do not like it when it’s grey.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Shades of Grey

The pencil
Swirls and twirls

Along an unknown path

She reveils
In the feeling

Of making a masterpiece

Lead covers her hands
A metallic gleam

A picture is forming

Shades of grey
Entwine on the canvas

Her art
Her emotions

All implied by her picture

A million words
Gone unwritten

But all are spoken
Through

Shades of grey

Swists and turns
Curves and waves

Each singular line forms

She is embedded
Into every stroke

On the canvas

The essence of
Her will remain

Even as she fades away

Her art will live on

poem by Autumn Winds
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Emma Concepcion Zanoria

emma of the green meadows
on the skies of white and blue
along the paths of flowers
of reds and yellows
how often have i dreamed of you
on the valleys of ricefields
where the winds of Karupay pass
along the tall coconut trees
to the mysteries of the
pacific ocean

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Helderberg Mountain

Outside the first rays fall
on one of the pinnacles
of Helderberg
and I look at the peaks
that disappears gigantic into the height.

In winter
there’s snow on the mountain
and at times
it looks grey and dark
of coldness
through the winter rain.

Today there’s something majestic
the picture
that the mountain
make with the long hot summer day.

There’s the smell of turpentine
while I walk through the rows of trees
and from the top
the Strand and Gordonsbay
lies picture perfect
with the sapphire blue sea
as a backdrop.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Our Canadian Woods In Early Autumn

I have passed the day ’mid the forest gay,
In its gorgeous autumn dyes,
Its tints as bright and as fair to the sight
As the hues of our sunset skies;
And the sun’s glad rays veiled by golden haze,
Streamed down ’neath its arches grand,
And with magic power made scene and hour
Like a dream of Faerie Land.

The emerald sheen of the maple green
Is turned to deep, rich red;
And the boughs entwine with the crimson vine
That is climbing overhead;
While, like golden sheaves, the saffron leaves
Of the sycamore strew the ground,
’Neath birches old, clad in shimmering gold,
Or the ash with red berries crowned.

Stately and tall, o’er its sisters all,
Stands the poplar, proud and lone,
Every silvery leaf in restless grief
Laments for the summer flown;
While each oak and elm of the sylvan realm,
In brilliant garb arrayed,
With each other vie, ’neath the autumn sky,
In beauty of form and shade

When wearied the gaze with the vivid blaze
Of rich tints before it spread—
Gay orange and gold, with shades untold
Of glowing carmine and red—
It can turn ’mid the scene to the sombre green
Of the fir, the hemlock, the pine,
Ever-keeping their hue, and their freshness, too,
’Mid the season’s swift decline.

Though the bird’s sweet song, that the summer long
Hath flowed so sweet and clear
Through the cool, dim shades of our forest glades,
No longer charms the ear,
A witching spell, that will please as well
As his glad notes, may be found
In the solemn hush, or the leaves’ soft rush,
As they thickly strew the ground.

For, though they tell of summer’s farewell,
Of their own decay and doom,
Of the wild storm-cloud and the snow’s cold shroud,
And the days of winter’s gloom,
The heart must yield to the power they wield,—
Alike tender, soothing, gay—
The beauties that gleam and that reign supreme
In our woods, this autumn day.

poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I’m going to Paint my Best Picture Ever

As soon as I wake before my coffee
I’ll grab that canvas brush and oils
To paint a fantastic sky,
With a couple of crows squawking in the blue
Then a mountain with snow on it top
An’ the sun shining on it
With a little road at the bottom,
Now for a bus stop with a little boy waiting
With his dog on a lead, then a little puddle
For boys love to jump in em’.
Just finished lots of black and white cows
Feeding in this huge green paddock,
With horses frolicking fresh from the stables
Running and kicking chasing, hope I get it right
Better paint a fence near the road an’ add a few sheep.
Now let me see ah....Trees lot of trees green as green
To the left and to the right with birds flying all around,
Oh in the distance near the foot of the mountain
I’ll paint the school bus coming down the road
That boy has been waiting for ages.
I think that’s it, oh I’ll add a couple of butterflies,
No flowers its winters end and
They are still pushing up underground.
Now let’s look at this picture and see
What the mind can see.

poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shades of Grey

Black is the color of the night
Grey is the shadow of you I sight
White is the shirt you wear
Black is your suit I declare

White is the wall you lean against
Grey is our path I sensed
Black is the memory I lost
Black is the road we never crossed

Grey is the prospect of the day
Grey is the taxi driving away
Black is the truth to never find you
Black is everything I can't undo

Black is my room without light
White is my color of hope in spite
Grey is the circle around my heart
Black is the truth like a work of art

© 2011

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Earlier Poems : The Spirit Of Poetry

There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread.
With what a tender and impassioned voice
It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought,
When the fast ushering star of morning comes
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf;
Or when the cowled and dusky-sandalled Eve,
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,
Departs with silent pace! That spirit moves
In the green valley, where the silver brook,
From its full laver, pours the white cascade;
And, babbling low amid the tangled woods,
Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter.
And frequent, on the everlasting hills,
Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself
In all the dark embroidery of the storm,
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid
The silent majesty of these deep woods,
lts presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth,
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air
Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades.
For them there was an eloquent voice in all
The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun,
The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way,
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds,
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun
Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in,
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale,
The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees,
In many a lazy syllable, repeating
Their old poetic legends to the wind.
And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill
The world; and, in these wayward days of youth,
My busy fancy oft embodies it,
As a bright image of the light and beauty
That dwell in nature; of the heavenly forms
We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues
That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds
When the sun sets. Within her tender eye
The heaven of April, with its changing light,
And when it wears the blue of May, is hung,
And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair
Is like the summer tresses of the trees,
When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek
Blushes the richness of an autumn sky,
With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath,
It is so like the gentle air of Spring,
As, front the morning's dewy flowers, it comes
Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy
To have it round us, and her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spirit of Poetry, The

There is a quiet spirit in these woods,
That dwells where'er the gentle south-wind blows;
Where, underneath the white-thorn, in the glade,
The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air,
The leaves above their sunny palms outspread.
With what a tender and impassioned voice
It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought,
When the fast ushering star of morning comes
O'er-riding the gray hills with golden scarf;
Or when the cowled and dusky-sandaled Eve,
In mourning weeds, from out the western gate,
Departs with silent pace! That spirit moves
In the green valley, where the silver brook,
From its full laver, pours the white cascade;
And, babbling low amid the tangled woods,
Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter.
And frequent, on the everlasting hills,
Its feet go forth, when it doth wrap itself
In all the dark embroidery of the storm,
And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid
The silent majesty of these deep woods,
lts presence shall uplift thy thoughts from earth,
As to the sunshine and the pure, bright air
Their tops the green trees lift. Hence gifted bards
Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades.
For them there was an eloquent voice in all
The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun,
The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way,
Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds,
The swelling upland, where the sidelong sun
Aslant the wooded slope, at evening, goes,
Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in,
Mountain, and shattered cliff, and sunny vale,
The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees,
In many a lazy syllable, repeating
Their old poetic legends to the wind.

And this is the sweet spirit, that doth fill
The world; and, in these wayward days of youth,
My busy fancy oft embodies it,
As a bright image of the light and beauty
That dwell in nature; of the heavenly forms
We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues
That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds
When the sun sets. Within her tender eye
The heaven of April, with its changing light,
And when it wears the blue of May, is hung,
And on her lip the rich, red rose. Her hair
Is like the summer tresses of the trees,
When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek
Blushes the richness of an autumn sky,
With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath,
It is so like the gentle air of Spring,
As, front the morning's dewy flowers, it comes
Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy
To have it round us, and her silver voice
Is the rich music of a summer bird,
Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Happy Sunshine

Happy sunshine on my face,
I love those warming golden rays.
Happy sunshine fills my eye,
When gazing up at the blue sky

Happy sunshine for my soul,
It fills me up with rays of gold.
Happy sunshine for my heart,
Keeps away love's poisoned darts.

Happy sunshine all the time,
Always in this heart of mine.
Happy sunshine dear to me,
Walking on the beach and free.

6/27/10 Alton Texas

poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Autumn Months Splendor

The Autumn Months Melody
The hot summer days are gone and rolled by
The cool autumn months have once again arrived
The autumn majestic spirit permeates the land
It is another new day of autumn
The far sun above the horizon sends its rays and gentle warmth
on the valleys, mountains and hamlets
Nature has dressed in beautiful colors
The jolly trees are painted with red, yellow and brown
The autumn trees adorn the valleys and mountains that hug the skies
It is a portrait of panoramic dazzle
The brisk wind blows over the meadows
The cool wind sweeps the plains and fields
The tall trees dance and bow gently in grace
The tree branches hiss, swing and sway
The shivering leaves quiver with the wind
The green pastures are dotted with a mosaic
of dried brownish scattered leaves
Joining autumn happy symphony
The singing joyous birds, the playful beavers
The swimming silver fish in the water streams
All bring a solemn joy
The sun slowly climbs the immense skies
The autumn patchy clouds cast their shadows on the peaceful land
All painting an awesome picture of beauty, love and harmony
How beautiful are the melodies and splendor of the autumn months!

poem by Sherif Monem
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Rising

Rising
On the stream of music
When the dawn shines again new,
From the twilight
From the dark;
Coming through - the rays of light,
Sunshine - sunshine!

Sparkling glisten
Fire steams,
Growing light - beyond the dark;
Red and yellow
Sparkling sparkles,
Twisting shadows
To the deep!

Shades of tempers
Lights of amber,
Orange red and hot!
Flowing like the water
In the blood of fire!

Sparking glisten!
Sparking glisten!
Through the night
Of eternal space,
Through the haze
Of starry rays…

Morning comes and softens the night,
Morning gives the sparkling day.

Sunshine - sunshine!
Shades of tempers,
Sunshine - sunshine!
Beyond the night,
Sunshine - sunshine!
Traveler in dark!

Nirvana,
Haunt me not,
From your dwelling!

poem by Peter S. Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Darling Is An Artist

My darling is an artist
who saves pictures, her impressions on a canvas
and sometimes deep things
are expressed by her mere words,

as she paints the sea green,
at times mother-of-pearl
or a dull blue
and I wonder how she does it?

With a brush she can warble
can charm and adorn things,
she can bring bewitching colours suddenly
to the early breaking day.

l'Envoi
My darling is an artist,
sometimes she muddles my whole life,
when her lips are sugary sweet
and she tells me the plain truth plainly.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Light in November

The light in November slants low.
It fills my eyes as I glance
askance through amber trees
and see the leaves descend in
gold flashes
past my open window.

The autumn sun skirts
my low Suisun hills
casting deep shadows
along the ebbing marsh

where wading egrets probe
still, black waters

and finding their prize
rise to blue heaven,
white, slender wings
elegantly beating
the softly falling sun.

poem by Steven Federle
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You Only Paint The Picture Once

(Teddy Gentry/Randy Owen/Ronnie Rogers/Greg Fowler)
Look at those evening shadows
Casting a peaceful light
The sun is disappearing
It's a beautiful sight
Moments caught forever
By the master's touch
A lasting reminder
To us
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
Love is the canvas
That's where it all starts
A lifetime together
Becomes a work of art
Just look what's been created
Between your heart and mine
Oh I believe that we're one of a kind
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
It's a portrait of life
You can't live it twice
You only paint the picture once

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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