The Brain is a Canvas
the brain is a canvas
everybody can paint on
ideas are colours that
light up humanity's worth
an original mind clears
the monotonous terrains
of like minded brains
casting shadows in between
to spawn an endless
wave of illumination
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Symphony Of Colours
I am a painter,
My hands hold a brush,
Moving as my heart wants,
Laughing the joy and crying the sorrow of my life.
I am playing with warm colours,
Using shadows I am emphasizing light,
I want the mankind see the beauty,
Of the marvelous world we have around.
Colours shine on my blank canvas,
In tones of rainbow and joyful lights,
All the warmth of the living,
Is concentrated in a piece of art.
Vibrant colours are merging together,
Dancing in shadows and lights,
All the past and the present lies here,
Being a reflection of my mind.
My thoughts are filling my canvas,
The brush strokes are following my dream,
Expressing the depths of my heart,
A symphony of colours has many stories to tell.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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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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And Once You Will Learn..
As I mix a hundred colours to paint your picture,
My canvas shrinks in size
And cries it foul.
There you stand with a smile mysterious.
As I hold a brush with a thousand quills on it,
My right hand shivers
And calls it uncommon.
Someone stands by you a with a frown.
You think I wouldn’t draw your picture at all.
You feel it’s my indifference
And colossal lack of concern.
Your mind turns into an ocean of skepticism.
Still on my large frame of mind
Your portrait hangs for ever
And there I see your smiling face.
My love has ever been thus…
Once when you begin to learn things,
My canvas and right hand will wither away.
Then your portrait drawn in a thousand colours
Will be your last concern perhaps.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Work Of Art
Life is a ‘work of art”, and humanity is the biggest part.
We draw and paint masterpieces, and write the
Histories of each generation.
Just to show that we’ve been here
Because in our lives we live in fear.
Paintings, pictures, movies and words
With all this knowledge we still don’t learn.
For we create our heavens, and we create our hells
Look around you and you can tell.
Wars, hunger, poverty and hate
We better stop before it’s too late.
We’re already destroying all that nature is giving
“is this what we call living? ”
(if you want to see the “work of art” of humanity
Then take a white canvas and paint
“A large black dot”.
For that is humanity destroying the clean beauty
That the lord has given us.)
This canvas a work of art? Who is to say?
Can you express this life in a better way!
“Work of art” it is anything and everything that
Man puts in their minds, and it becomes
A part of the times.
For “perception becomes your reality”
And this is the work of art that I see.
poem by Louis Rams
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Haiku In Colours
van gogh
in the field
etching haiku
onto canvas
each stroke
a colourful haiku
for posterity
sunflowers
eleven brothers vie
for attention
the fortunate ones
coloured bright yellow
the rest resign
themselves to fate
bow humbly
and live in the others' shadows
eleven lucky blooms
worth more than a hundred millions
they do not fit into my pot
but in my heart they blaze in glory, always
van gogh's genius pours
unrelentingly
from eye to eye,
heart to heart
igniting the artist's passion
in each of us
once in a while, i too feel like
etching haiku in colours
encapsulating that extraordinary moment
ideas in wondrous colours, shapes and dreams
so that they too would turn out to be loving works of insanity
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Empty Canvas
the canvas is juxtaposition
images colour movement time
time shifts in thought shifts
empty mind space canvas
is whatever artist declares
canvas is painted to be
empty canvas is whatever
canvas is painted to be
endless pigment possibilities
poem by Terence George Craddock
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As usual the Liberals offer a mixture of sound and original ideas. Unfortunately none of the sound ideas is original and none of the original ideas is sound.
quote by Harold MacMillan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Canvas
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.
Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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Beware the Devil
Beware the devil hidden from sight
In darkened shadows late at night
For Satan lurks, he lies in wait
For hapless souls to make mistakes
And when they do, all hope is gone
For the devil your soul will work upon
He will dissect your mind, chill your heart
Your dreams and wishes he will tear apart
Bleak thoughts he will place in your brain
He will weaken your body, cause you pain
With fiery flames he will corrupt your soul
And with his evil will take control
He will fit you out in colours dark
Alone in a place so bleak and stark
He will taunt you, twist you round
Till no trace of sanity can be found
There you will remain, weary and cold
As you shake with fear at what will unfold
Then Satan speaks with evil ire
Tempts you into hells own fire
Those shining flames flickering bright
Consume you into an endless night
Evil now reigns, and goodness is taken
A nightmare from which you will never awaken
So beware the devil hidden out of sight
In darkest shadows late at night
For Satan waits, his evil to spawn
Tread carefully, you have been warned!
poem by Sue Crocker
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Poem about Poetry-Words and Colours
it is not how many words we know
it is about how we portray our thoughts
and feelings with them giving others
and our own brain a new space to breathe
it is not about how many colours we have
it is about how we spread them over the canvas
to give the heart and mind a new corner
to luxuriate in
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Paint
Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent
Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret
Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen
Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light
Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'
Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style
Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.
Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.
poem by Ruth Walters
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One Light: Three Primary Colors
Red is the colour of blood that flows in the body of all creatures given birth
Green is the colour of grass that like a carpet covers a lot of the soil of earth
Blue is the colour of sky that surrounds this world and is of an infinite girth
All three colours come from a Single Source having an Immeasurable worth.
Red is also the colour of danger and a symbol which indicates all to beware
Green is also the colour of the leaves that most of the plants and trees wear
Blue is also the colour of water that covers most of this world which is fair
Three colours are the original blend of all those others found in nature there.
Red is also the colour of anger, passion or pain that is expressed, felt and seen
Green is also the colour of something natural an indication of where it has been
Blue is also the colour of Infinity and the light glowing in a mind which is clean
And all three colours are shades of One Light the essence of all universal sheen.
Of all the three colours I like blue the most as it seems to be uniquely sublime
It speaks to me of loftier and deeper things that were experienced in my prime
It also represents the colour of the biggest phenomena known to man in time
Being a symbol of That in which all exists and from which all began to chime.
------------------------
Note:
There are many other colors but as far as those which form the basis of technology there are only three i.e; as in a R.G.B. monitor and screen projector etc.
poem by George Krokos
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Shifting Shadows
Shallow people
cast shadows,
as short as
their personalities;
under hot spotlight
noon-day sun.
Baked brains
can over boil spoil;
when heart
and mind;
are not won.
Complex competent people
cast shadows;
as long as enduring
strides, they
have heartfelt run.
Like shadows
cast celebrating dawn;
or shadows long growing
before, rich
red setting sun.
True giants
of enlightening humanity
cast giant shadows;
shaped silhouette greatness;
shading humble, weak;
and innocent folk;
attaining legendary status
of fabled Loch Ness.
Shadows still
maturing long
after final
rays hung;
sealing supernova
fated faith;
of their own
glorious setting sun.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Too Much To Think About
Sister help take this pain from my heart
Help me stand up and find out whats right
Dont want to exist here in the dark
When the gates of eden offer so much light
But theres too much to think about
Too many problems in my brain
Yeah, theres too much to think about
How could I ever make up my mind
Young man lay down your guns
And hold your woman in your arms
The concretes not worth dying fo
They say theres more to this life
But theres too much to think about
Too many problems in my brain
Yeah, theres too much to think about
How could I ever make up my mind
So what am I living for
They say the truth is not hard to find
Its right here in front of my eyes
If I could just open my heart sometimes
But theres too much to think about
Too many problems in my brain
Yeah, theres too much to think about
How could I ever make up my mind
But theres too much to think about
Too many problems in my brain
Yeah, theres too much to think about
How could I ever make up my mind
Make up my mind
Make up my mind
Make up make up my mind
Make up make up my mind
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Couple In Their 50s
in bed they
talk
about the matters of the day
about this guy
who is looking for a job and could not find any
these harsh times
when humanity is at its lowest
rating
about a young girl who runs away from home
who finally finds herself trafficked in Singapore
the slave trade seems to be prevailing
many trivial things
it is not about themselves
but other people
not even new ideas how to improve
their
marital performance
in bed after an hour or so
they sleep
the one who is minded
turns off the light at the headboard
it is so dark....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rembrandt's Darkness, Rembrandt's Light
Here’s a painting by Rembrandt van Rijn –
mark how he bestows the light…
the light of Rembrandt’s conscious painted scenes
falls where consciousness itself shines strongest:
here on a thinking head, deep
in contemplation of the truth invisible;
here on a melting heart; there,
on a pregnant belly full of life;
on this marriage bed, her body
dissolves into the light of love;
here, the golden helmet and the breastplate
say, heroism has descended on mere man.
But mark, too, that other miracle:
see in this corner, the area of black paint:
this is not darkness; not negation of the light;
this is what cannot comprehend the light;
this is the darkness of the unmanifest,
from which all miracles shall in time arise:
this is the black paint stroked on the canvas
by the same dazzling intelligence
which was Rembrandt; the light
yet stored in darkness; what would that light
of things seen, be, without the mind
that understood and marked the not yet lit?
The secret of that darkness fills
with a brightness that's more beautiful than beauty,
the mind that knows to shut its mortal eyes.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Artist's Canvas
the artist's canvas
it is similar as the world
we all strive to paint
with the redness of our blood,
the heat of our passions
and the brushes of our life
how floored we are at times
in the face of things,
how petrified when things
turn out to be red rather
than the blue of our thought
Love which I have always
perceived to be pink is
actually a warm glow of
your fair skin and veins
under the morning sun and
the translucent brown of your eyes
and also beige and
forest green so splendid
they charm the emptiness
of the grey of day away
the freshness of your breath
is a consuming white and
your touch, a trimming of the
brown of muslin for us to anchor
our ecstacy as we lock eyes
in between all these are
the wave and wave of frenzied strokes,
blobs, globs, fuzzy angles
cubes and circles that never
fail to carry us over to the rainbow,
our feet to tango, our heart to sing
and our voice to soar
of love, of sweet dates, of angels
flying over to our paths
the artist's canvas
it is inviting as life where
our imagination can cruise
beyond the ends of earth
free as a bird and rich
as all the colours on the palette
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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I Am
I am not the thing you want to be.
I promise you want no part of me.
A soul sucking grinch from hell.
Twisted and torn by yeas of misfortune.
I am not the man that you think.
I hide my insanity,
I'm close to the brink.
Of letting it loose the creature inside.
Howling and curseing casting humanity aside.
I am not what you want,
a bitter angry fool.
A demon that needs to feed on emotions like food.
Vengance and pluner are all that I want.
To right al the hurt feelings and get what I want.
I an not all those things though,
not all the way through.
In my mind and my heart I care truly for you.
A softness so deep and love felt so smooth.
I know that I'll never be good enough for you.
I am not the man you need in your life.
All I can do is cause endless pain and much strife.
So I do my best to lt you go free,
but the madness comes creeping back upon me.
I am not the type that intended to hurt.
But I did so I say I must hardly have worth.
So go your own way I'll try to keep here at bay.
I am not the man you'll need day after day.
poem by Michael McParland
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Sunsets With A Crimson Colour
We paint our sunsets with crimson colours
a sign of a brighter day tomorrow.
We paint our earth with blues and green,
the oceans, lakes and land.
However, we paint ourselves invisible
with the use of slight of hand.
How long will we paint with colours
if we carry on the way we do.
The crimson will become a dusty brown
for the dust cloud we created.
The green will become black,
chard and empty of everything.
The waters that were blue
will run red with the dead,
polluted beyond repair,
unless we open our eyes now
and our world we start to take care.
Hopefully, then once again we can paint
our sunsets with a crimson colour.
3 September 2011
poem by David Harris
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Me And My Big Ideas
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Go get a volunteer
We'll pay him well my dear
He will see inside your mind
Because he is that kind
It's a southern kind of heat
The shadows crack and start to creep
Conversation drag its feet
I wish we'd both been more discret
Like light that it caught between night and day
You're stuck between me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
Well they love you when you're weak
Bet they hate you to see this winning streak
It's that thing we call control
There's a deep frustration
Black thoughts
That are stuck between someone's ears
Like me and my big idea
So many strings to your bow
Why not let one go
In a way this dream is over
Blown away our four leaf clover
There's no reason why
There's just me and my
Me and my big ideas
Won't wash away your tears
No one else seems to mind
That I'm not that kind
song performed by by Tears For Fears from Raoul & The Kings Of Spain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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