In the National Gallery
Here, in the pale light of a winter’s day
I entered with a sketch pad in my hand.
I never dreamed that I’d encounter you-
To sketch out some old master was my plan.
Was it your eyes that first seduced me near,
or those cherry lips that I would never taste?
Two centuries past you were a beauty, dear.
Now, all but this image, time has lain to waste.
I envy him who painted you in camera,
together in your sitting room alone.
Who knows just how the session was concluded
If your old and senile husband wasn’t home?
I’m cast here in the role of a voyeur,
I haven’t even tried to draw a line.
Your dress of silk reveals just one bare shoulder,
Your eyes, the promise of a night divine.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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Related quotes
Desertedness
Unrecognizable are the days,
Neither does the sunrise,
Cast any spell,
Nor does the yonder descending star,
Sketch any image.
From the sky-kissing,
Rocky peaks of mountains,
To the soft soil of the earth,
Reigns, governs some icy-season,
The wing-folded birds are sitting,
Unprotected, exposed in the boughs.
And I in the patio of my home,
Though much indulged, yet sit
Deserted, desolate in mood.
Unrecognizable are the days,
Neither does the sunrise,
Cast any spell,
Nor does the yonder descending star,
Sketch any image.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Sketch Book
If I may,
allow thee,
stand
lay
find
your
pose.
Will sketch thee in thy book.
Charcoal
grainy
dark
smudges blending,
image
take
form.
Disrobe
do not,
remove thy cloth
woven
cotton
cover
disguise
thy body shape
curves
contours
angles.
Distraction.
Already have sketch in hand,
conjured forth,
time
and
time
again.
Thy body shape,
lies beneath,
across they clothing drape?
Still life.
Artists interpretation.
Thy beauty.
Recline,
arm at side
other over head
finger poised
chin angled toward thee
eyes at slight glance,
legs
lounging
relaxed
ankles crossed.
Nude.
Exposed.
Yes,
of course.
Anywhere you would like,
when
your
ready.
Will sketch thee in thy book.
poem by Gary Kedron
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A Question About Art
Our world forgets – has never known, perhaps –
that questions are a treasured magic wand:
the question asked, the answer may, most like, come freshly said
out of a space that’s new alike to teacher and to taught;
your question is today – how factual should I leave
my verse, or should I seek to ‘colour’ it with metaphor? …
this image comes to mind: ‘old master’ in his studio,
famed painter of Madonnas with attendant Child;
demand’s incessant; so he draws the outlines in,
and passes on the canvas to his studio hand;
coloured then, maybe he adds the master’s touch of life -–
the smile of angel’s sweetness on the Madonna’s face;
the glimpse of future in the Christ Child’s eyes;
and off it goes to some great patron’s church,
to comfort all of womanhood in woes and joys,
its colours gleaming candlelit in sacred prayer;
and yet, how connoisseurs may treasure that quick sketch
on scrap of hand-made paper, where the very touch
of sanguine chalk or silverpoint, reveal the immediate mind
of that old master, as it found the new track of the line;
the world will praise, admire, your coloured image of Her face;
but She will see, in pencilled sketch, how love springs from her grace..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Deformed Angel
Sometimes life gives us severe shock,
Undermines the plans and does block,
The ways of wisdom leading ahead,
Reveals the hands that secretly mock.
An artist thought to paint an angel,
To use the brush for the masterpiece,
But could not conceptualize the image,
Beauty combining innocence, purity.
One morn, at last, he luckily found,
A child playing on the grassy ground,
Having angelic countenance and grace,
Incarnation he was of sublime serenity.
Painted he the angel with skill utmost,
And earned he the world wide fame.
And he after three full fleeting decades,
Thought for the second master-sketch,
Now not of an angel, but of a devil.
He sought for the image far and wide,
But could not find corresponding one,
Fate then led him amid the prison walls,
There inside met he a young wretch man,
With a devilish nature, face and frame.
The master revealed his intent to paint,
Tears came in eyes of the devil formed,
Said he, “Oh! Master it is a matter of woe,
You sketched me an angel thirty years ago.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Angel On My Shoulder
Written by natalie cole and richard marx
I never thought Id ever make it, I cant believe the hell Ive been through
Couldnt see the light at the end of the tunnel, I didnt know what to do
Ive been through the rain, Ive been through the fire
There was something that I never knew
Chorus
I had an angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Must be an angel on my shoulder, who was right there all the time
(angel, must be an angel) this world can be so cold and so heartless
Its hard to find your way alone, I used to run so fast, no one could catch me
I couldnt find the way back home, but Ive laughed, Ive cried
I almost died, but my broken heart just never knew
Chorus
I had an angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Got to be an angel on my shoulder, who was right there
Right there all the time, everybody needs someone to cling to
With an unchanging love, I finally found a hand to hold on to
A shelter to run to, now I see hes watching over me
Chorus
(angel on my shoulder, angel) Ive got an (angel on my shoulder)
Angel on my shoulder, with a plan for me divine
Got to be an (angel on my shoulder), angel on my shoulder
Who was right there, right there, right there all the time
Got to be an angel, an angel, an angel, right there all the time
song performed by by Natalie Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Camera vs, Pencil
Exactly same and true
Picture of objects wonderful
The magical instrument
Captures the real image
But real things become still
Logics, camera can't fill
Images, camera only captures
Pencil gives birth to a picture
The sketches drawn by pencil
Speak and make you feel
Not only liveliness of the object
But compels one too, to interpret
Camera can't take image of soul
Pencil draws sketch of in and out
camera and pencil's combination
can fetch reality, feel and imagination
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Cherry, Cherry Coupe
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
The wildest short around is my cherry, cherry coupe
Its the sharpest thing in town and the envy of my group
Its one of its kind and it really looks good
Chopped nose and deck with louvers on the hood
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
Chrome reversed rims with whitewall slicks
And it turns a quarter mile in one oh six
Door handles are off but you know Ill never miss em
They open when I want with the cellunoid system
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
My coupes tuck and roll underneath the hood
And the rugs, seats, and panels now are looking good
When I go looking for something to do
Shes got enough room now to barely seat two
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(my cherry coupe beats em up coming off the line)
Go cherry, cherry coupe now
(and she really gets sparks when she starts to whine)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wasn't The One (Who Say Goodbye)
Your eyes and my eyes haven't talked in quite a while
Seems like a lifetime since I walked beside your smile
There's a dark cloud that's hanging above
Memories never lie
Still we talk about the way that it was
And I think we both know the feelings haven't died
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
And I won't be the one to say that we can't try
Da Da
Your touch and my touch haven't spoken for some time
You say we've both changed and your always on my mind
I can tell you that it's over and done but I would only lose
Being close to the one that I want
So go on and ask me if I'm still in love with you
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
And I won't be the one to say that we can't try
Da Da
There was no need for you to ask - please don't ask
You oughta know by now, ooo babe, I want you back
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
song performed by by Peter Cetera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Prisoner
You have watched me, safe in your anonymity
I have dreamed you, held in your security
Some people believe a photograph traps your mortal soul
Your eyes were the camera and youve take hold
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole
Every place I go I feel your lenses trained on me
This distant concentration takes away my energy
Your image burns its negative
Behind my waking eyes
Then the night comes and you stalk your prize
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole
Some people believe a photograph traps your mortal soul
Your eyes were the camera and youve taken hold
And you captured me
I need you to take control
I am a prisoner of no confidence
Youve entered me now make me whole
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Wasn't The One
Your eyes and my eyes haven't talked in quite a while
Seems like a lifetime since i walked beside your smile
There's a dark cloud that's hanging above
Memories never lie
Still we talk about the way that it was
And i think we both know the feeling hasn't died
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
And i won't be the one to say that we can't try
Da da
Your touch and my touch haven't spoken for some time
You say we've both changed and your always on my mind
I can tell you that it's over and done but i would only lose
Being close to the want that i want
So go on and ask me if i'm still in love with you
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
And i won't be the one to say that we can't try
Da da
There was no need for you to ask - please don't ask
You oughta know by now, ooo babe, i want you back
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
I wasn't the one who said goodbye, oh no
I wasn't the one who disappeared in the night
song performed by by Peter Cetera
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I would go to sketch groups and draw. I really enjoyed the subject matter, but I wasn't good at it.
quote by Jack Prelutsky
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zudora
Here on the pale beach, in the darkness;
With the full moon just to rise;
They sit alone, and look over the sea,
Or into each other's eyes. . .
She pokes her parasol into the sleepy sand,
Or sifts the lazy whiteness through her hand.
'A lovely night,' he says, 'the moon,
Comes up for you and me.
Just like a blind old spotlight there,
Fizzing across the sea!'
She pays no heed, nor even turns her head:
He slides his arm around her waist instead.
'Why don't we do a sketch together--
Those songs you sing are swell.
Where did you get them, anyway?
They suit you awfully well.'
She will not turn to him--will not resist.
Impassive, she submits to being kissed.
'My husband wrote all four of them.
You know,--my husband drowned.
He was always sickly, soon depressed. . .'
But still she hears the sound
Of a stateroom door shut hard, and footsteps going
Swiftly and steadily, and the dark sea flowing.
She hears the dark sea flowing, and sees his eyes
Hollow with disenchantment, sick surprise,--
And hate of her whom he had loved too well. . .
She lowers her eyes, demurely prods a shell.
'Yes. We might do an act together.
That would be very nice.'
He kisses her passionately, and thinks
She's carnal, but cold as ice.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Turns and Movies: Zudora
Here on the pale beach, in the darkness;
With the full moon just to rise;
They sit alone, and look over the sea,
Or into each other's eyes. . .
She pokes her parasol into the sleepy sand,
Or sifts the lazy whiteness through her hand.
'A lovely night,' he says, 'the moon,
Comes up for you and me.
Just like a blind old spotlight there,
Fizzing across the sea!'
She pays no heed, nor even turns her head:
He slides his arm around her waist instead.
'Why don't we do a sketch together--
Those songs you sing are swell.
Where did you get them, anyway?
They suit you awfully well.'
She will not turn to him--will not resist.
Impassive, she submits to being kissed.
'My husband wrote all four of them.
You know,--my husband drowned.
He was always sickly, soon depressed. . .'
But still she hears the sound
Of a stateroom door shut hard, and footsteps going
Swiftly and steadily, and the dark sea flowing.
She hears the dark sea flowing, and sees his eyes
Hollow with disenchantment, sick surprise,--
And hate of her whom he had loved too well. . .
She lowers her eyes, demurely prods a shell.
'Yes. We might do an act together.
That would be very nice.'
He kisses her passionately, and thinks
She's carnal, but cold as ice.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Sketching My Face From A Mirror
using a ballpoint pen i sketch my face
from the mirror
looking carefully on every line of my face
i let my pen run tracing
every year
of my past stopping
on some pores and hairs and moles
marking some
points of emptiness and hiding places
and foxholes
and burial grounds
and long boulevards
and tunnels
and plains and green fields and deserts
and mountains
they are all on my face
my eyes looking at my eyes
not completely
with disgust
the parameters and contours
of my past
on such a beautiful face as this
how can i ever fail
the next time
around
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Come on
Come on give me those cherry lips blooming
I'm cast in your dice
I'm cast to your side
And pray to my Lord
In winter's abode
My love for you
In hearth to abide
No past no future just a gift of present
Beautiful beautiful present from above
Cherry lips blooming in a cup of your love
In winter's freezing white washed desert
Your heart burning around my hearth
A gift from heaven winter joy and mirth
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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JESUS CHRIST and The Painter
Dear Jesus,
.
If I was a painter a master of repute
A genius of the deft stroke,
To sketch the charcoal base
A thousand years of learning need I indeed
To reproduce the beauty
that dwells within your soul and
Reflects upon your face.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Art School Babe
My art school babe with your palette-knives and brushes,
Painted face, Egyptian eye-brows and bright red lips
Pale white make-up, tight black skirts like Juliette Greco
And there's me quoting pretentious chat up lines
From Marcel Proust, Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre
Sitting by a gasfire in a drafty bedsit
The art school babe quotes William Blake and she rolls a joint
And I think oh oh, I've scored, start to make myself at home
But the room starts moving as she starts to get me stoned
I close my eyes and give in, the room goes in a spin
My lips are dry, I wander around with a ridiculous grin
I grovel on the floor, I think yeah I think I can make her
Then I wake up and realize I've been kissing the refrigerator
Art school chaps with creative grand illusions
My sketch pad at the ready, my eager charcoal in my hand
Boring the world for hours with political theories
Just to impress anyone who listens while my art school babe
Just puts another inch of make-up on her face
And she says to me:
Arty farty, you'll never fool your auntie
Who knew you when you picked your nose and wet your pants
How did she know that?
Arty farty, I try to throw a party
To impress my peers I struck a creative stance
Art school cat, ah, I was really on a mission
I made my play for my art school babe
By humming jazz tunes with words by furlinghetti
I thought I was ever so cool,
But I was really such an obvious, pretentious, irritating little fool
For my art school babe
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So tender [Atât de fragedă]
You are so tender, just like when
The cherry blossom is pure, white
And like an angel among men
Into my life you come in sight.
You barely touch the rug below
The silk is rustling at your feet
And as you walk, from head to toe,
You float like eagles in the heat.
Out of your pleated dress you rise
Like a white marble and I'm struck...
My soul clings quickly to your eyes,
So full of tears and of good luck.
Oh, happy dream of love with style
Bride from old stories, little star,
Stop smiling! For your pretty smile
Reveals how beautiful you are.
How can you, with the charm of night,
Darken my eyes with so much grace,
And with your whispers, hot and light,
And with the chill of your embrace?
A thought is passing, I remark,
A wave upon your fervent eyes:
It's the surrender, deep and dark,
Shadow of lust that gently cries.
You go away; I comprehend,
To follow you is a vain goal,
You're lost for ever, it's the end,
O, dearest bride of my poor soul!
I saw you, it's my fault all right,
My heart forgiveness now withstands,
I'll expiate my dream of light
Reaching my hand for desert lands.
And like an icon you'll appear
Of Mary, for whom people yearn,
Wearing the crown on your head dear -
Where do you go? When you return?
poem by Mihai Eminescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Always Be One To Me
Sketch a flame on a candle.
Have it up-side-down.
What do you see?
It's like a water dropp out of a cup!
Like the sketch,
I find you known to me always.
The Whisper
Cries from the aisles
The tolling of the judgement bell
Eyes watched the violence
The absence of those who have
Seen, marks the faith of the spell
Cold is the viper
Stalking the night for the heat
It must find
Time is the promise
Delivered with stunning consistency
Line after line, time after time
The innocent victim awaits...
Please take my hand
Dont be afraid
I am your master
You are my slave
Voices are calling me back
Back to the day
Footsteps had followed
Me faster... listen
Screams from a new love
The passion was burning, it singed in a stare
Free under the night sun
The fear of the hunger
Will always be there in my mind
Time after time the morning
Will close a new page
Please take my hand
Dont be afraid
I am your master
You are my slave
Follow the impulse you have
Ill show you the way
Forget what youve learned in the past now
Listen and...
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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