Heat Waves Simmering
heat waves shimmering
reminds me of brother's
artistic brush strokes
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Artistic
Artistic
It's artistic
Grace in your movement
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Sweetness in your voice
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Gleam in your eye
Is artistic.
I'm filled with inspiration
In my dormant artistic pursuit...
With brush in hand
I'll paint your every move
With hidden treasure of words
I'll weave poems of what you say
And I'll move as you command
By the gleam of your eye.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Heat waves shimmering
Heat waves shimmering
one or two inches
above the dead grass.
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Heat waves shimmering
Heat waves shimmering
one or two inches
above the dead grass.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Everything Reminds Me Of Her
I never really had a problem because of leaving
But everything reminds me of her this evening
So if I seem a little out of it, sorry
But why should I lie?
Everything reminds me of her
The spin of the earth impaled a silhouette of the sun on the steeple
And I got to hear the same sermon all the time now from you people
Why are you staring into outer space, crying?
Just because you came across it, and lost it
Everything reminds me of her
Everything reminds me of her
Everything reminds me of her
song performed by by Elliott Smith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tomorrow's Promise
I wanted to write
you an intriguing lyric
that favored
Shakespeare and
Ovid’s erotica
but the desires that be
did not allow my
attempt of nestling metaphors
Indeed, usually the gift
of grand gesture
grants my brush strokes
the most vivid
ink to pour into
riveting colors
for your eyes only
marveling at the distinct
structure and the
deepened detail of each
line
I promise to paint prettier
pictures the next time
my thoughts reminds
me of your face
with delectable smiles
and unforgettable laughter
Tomorrow, I promise...
poem by Jason PraTT
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Of Two Different Natures
shimmering sea
floating forever on
the waves
landing on the shore
the shimmering is gone
the gray sands are hungry
and there are too many of them
countless
annihilators
of motion and light
earth and water
always part away
the sky is ready
for the ball of fire
that soon
shall take its
needed sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sea Left Behind
Every stroke reminds me,
my pain, that I bear as a vain.
Every steps reminds me, my lane,
far off the ocean, which I want to gain.
I see the sea,
that I’m far behind the ocean azure,
the waves lashing o’er me
sinking my desires’ key.
These waves remind my mistake.
I’m the sea far behind the ocean azure,
For the feelings, what I endure
For not indulging in ocean, I see.
I see my mistake that I harm the marines
For not reaching the ocean.
The Red Sea goes off to the Atlantic
Waving hand to me, this lonely sea.
Forgive me, I can sail ferry, O Lord, I will
The life shall breathe in me
Every morning reminds my mourn
This dry sea wants to be in norm,
I’m like a plant without flowers
O lord, I’m the sea far behind the ocean azure.
poem by Ravin Sharma
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The Chinese use two brush strokes to write the word 'crisis.' One brush stroke stands for danger the other for opportunity. In a crisis, be aware of the danger - but recognize the opportunity.
quote by Richard M. Nixon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still Life In Oils-De Jour
You painted a most exquisite picture
...Brush stroked her canvas delicately
With feathered brush-a touch
...Tinting with royal hues-
And crimson red coloured views...
'Tis a still life of a woman in degrees...
...A breath-taking piece of divinity...
A true masterpiece of elegance...
...Your virgin work of art...
Captured by your most artistic keen eye
...Creme De la Creme Ala Carte...
poem by Theodora Onken
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Venetian Serenade
One would think purple and green couldn’t
work well together, unless you’re in Venice where,
tucked in at eventide, gondolas slumber in colorful
array, anticipating the new day, while the setting sun,
low on the horizon, lulls the lagoon to sleep,
lapping waves caressing, like the susurrus of
a Venetian lullaby. Royal purple tints the water,
as though The Master had dipped his brush in
Imperial Blue and with broad strokes blessed
the Grand Canal in benediction to the Medici.
But this blessing can’t last - this tribute to the gold
of Italy’s finest hour, this shimmering ideal reposing
in the dusky twilight of an age long past its glory,
hovering on the brink of a long summer day.
Too soon dawn will come clamoring, dragging
along the multitude: buyers and sellers
crashing through the pungent streets, snatching
at her life’s blood, scattering her precious jewels
like so much refuse until, at last, exhausted
and disillusioned, she folds her purple and green
into another sunset, sighs in weak submission,
and falls asleep once more to her Venetian serenade.
poem by Alicia Patti
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Breathlessley Speaking
I hit my brother and
My brother fell fainted and
His son got angry and
He hit me back and
I turned to hit him back and
Then mother-90 years, shouted and
She hit me for her turn and
Thus I got so many strokes and
It did'nt matter much but
Only made me feel sorry, for
Mother broke my only walking stick and
She screamed 'you're sixty and
your brother is seventy and
My grandson is forty and
I don't suppose a battlefield' and
Then my brother woke up and
Our fight started again and'I am Wellesley.
why I hit him 'cause
He has been calling me Breathlessley'.
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Well, I am not interested in the kind of expression that you have when you paint a painting with brush strokes. It's all right, but it's already done and I want to do something new.
quote by Donald Judd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can't Brush Me Off
Why don't you just give in?
Just like a Siamese twin
I mean to stick to you
Until you do
I won't take it on the chin
You'll never leave me flat
I'm not a "last year's hat"
That you can cast aside
I've got my pride
And I won't stand for that
You can't brush me off
As you would a speck of powder, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't shout me down
You can yell but I'll yell louder, you can try
But you can't brush me off
You can say you're out but I'll keep phoning
You can tell me goodbye
You can tell me but I
Won't go
No
You can't leave me cold
As you would a plate of chowder, you may try
But you can't brush me off
[2]
What is this all about?
You've got me wrong, no doubt
I give you all my time
Believe me, I'm
Not looking for some way out
I want you for my wife
Sharing my care and strife
And that may not be fun
For when it's done
You're stuck with me for life
You can't brush me off
As you would a fresh mosquito, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't rub me out
Like a spot on my tuxedo, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can cut me dead but I won't mind it
You may injure my pride
Still I'll never decide
To go
No
You can't drop me fast
As you would a live torpedo, you may try
But you can't brush me off
[3]
You can't brush me off
Like a colored pullman porter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can't lock me out
Like a frightened farmer's daughter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
You can drop a hint but I won't take it
You can tell me bad news
I intend to refuse
To go
No
You can't give me back
As you would a leaded quarter, you may try
But you can't brush me off
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hazy Summer Days
Shimmering light from the heat of summer
makes my eyelids close.
The days are humid, hot and damp
and wet are the spots on my clothes.
No relief in sight as yet
and the stench from the algae invades
the sweetened aroma of roses
and the sparkle in them fades.
Once again I pray for relief
to come in the form of rain.
But when it comes it doesn't help
and so I do remain
sullen and withdrawn again
until this heat wave breaks.
Cooler raindrops are so in need
and that is all it takes
to brighten my mood and open my lids
to view the clearing air.
I cannot remember a summer like this,
nor do I think I care.
I will glimpse the shimmering light
that's staying here too long.
But only for a short, short time
and hope it moves along.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When I Look At The Rainbow
Lord when I look at the Rainbow you have placed in sky so
blue, it reminds me that all your promises are true
Your Rainbow reminds me that those who believe on you
are few, yet you have called us your little Ewe
Lord when I look at the Rainbow I see it's hue, it reminds
me that your love for us true
Your Rainbow in sky so blue, reminds me to keep praying
through
Lord when I look at the Rainbow it reminds me of your
promise to all of your creatures some of whom are of
different features
Your Rainbow and it's many colors reminds me that it
represents some whom are called colored
Lord when I look at your Rainbow and see how it's colors
are bright, it reminds me to do what is right
Your Rainbow I have never seen at night, this reminds me
to stay in the light
Lord when I look at your Rainbow it reminds me of your grief
because of our unbelief
Your Rainbow have no pot of gold, but your wonderful story
of love it has told
Lord when I Look at your Rainbow it reminds that you
promised to never again destroy the World with a flood
Your Rainbow to me is a sign of your love it represents
your Son's life Blood
poem by Vincent G. Mead
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Painting Words
IMAGES SPRING FROM NOWHERE,
BUT BEAR A KNOWN DESIGN.
NO BRUSH OR PAINT IS MY WARE
THOUGH PAINTINGS DO SEEM MINE.
MY CANVAS BREATHES ALIVE
AS WORD AND IMAGE MERGE.
FROM NOTHINGNESS I STRIVE
TO CAPTURE EACH NEW SURGE.
PEN SWATHES, LIKE BRUSH STROKES,
FASHION WORDS, ONE-BY-ONE,
UNTIL MIND’S EYE EVOKES
IMAGES CLEAR AS THE SUN.
ALL WHO VIEW THESE WORKS
WILL FIND IT’S NOT ABSURD
TO FEEL THE POWER THAT LURKS
BEHIND EACH PAINTED WORD.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Brother To Brother Hymn
Brother to brother
I know that I can always coun on you
Because you are my brther
And I am your brother also
Brother to brother
Your life is different than mine
You live in Brazil
I live in Canad a country that is more advanced in technology
Brother to brother
I will pray for you
Eventhough you don't believe in God
Brother to brother I will email you more frequently
Brother to brother I will sing you a song
Brother to brother I hope the saints will go to Sao paulo and watch you While you are sleeping
poem by Aldo Kraas
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061710a Beach Is It Us Open
from atop a green overlooking cliff
golf pride of the west pebble beach
beautiful sunshine strokes not so deep
kelp overgrowth cradling otters asleep
while fans gaze at the ball i'm amaze
unmindful of the beauty touch by breeze
approaching nine a view of layers of waves
come kissing shore with bubbles then ebbs
i look around; no orange mini-skirted babes
they are with me with sweater and shades
so charming, admiring swings of the greats
i touch my hat, it reminds me of heart's gift
poem by Manonton Dalan
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Cry
Our fire will rise
Ringmaster's eyes
Funhouse will rock
Those boys don't lie
Immortal fear
It's voice so clear
Through broken walls
Your screams I hear
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Clown masquerade rich boys look up
When will they learn
This loneliness?
Temptation's heat
Milenko's word
Deep in your soul
You cannot lie
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Our shangrila
You can't forget
Always so close
Come to us now
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Cry, little sister
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretty Beautiful
Beautiful rainbow
Its colourful style
If only upside down
Reminds me of your smile
Beautiful Sunset
It made me stare
Rich in bright goldness
Reminds me of your hair
Beautiful Moon
Shining from space
Shining so bright
Reminds me of your face
Beautiful Stars
Filling the sky
Luminously glowing
Reminds me of your eyes
Beautiful Guitar
Sweet acoustic melodies
Its perfect toned curves
Reminds me of your body
Beautiful Night
Filled with twinkling stars
Reminds me of.
How pretty you are!
poem by Le Tu Quang
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