Related quotes: Today i stood below a...

Sepia Smiles and Candy Striped Fences...

Today i stood below a lofty sky
Pon a balcony
While

I watched you paint

Candy stripes pon a wooden fence
And i just
Melted

I witnessed your tones of flesh move
With a lulling rhythm
Which sent me to places
We have shared
Adored
Cherished

And i smiled

Today you laughed at your painting mistakes
As you considered the Paint Police arriving in strawberry pink
Helmets

And it was a sepia moment to be stored
And relished at
a later date
Many times over
And squeezed gently
With a smile
When we are very old.....

poem by Karen Sinclair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Better than Candy

'No candy today.'
I had to tell her
as every day I told her
while passing melted
snow cones that stained
the sidewalk I could not
by her better shoes to
walk on. Not today.
Today we barely have
what we really needed
yesterday. Today is
months behind and
four years old.
'No candy.', I told
her as I kissed her.

'Better than candy.'
she said of my kiss.
Better than candy.

poem by Isabel Kestner
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Today I Died Again

The human drum
Beats a rhythm of life
The clothes he wears
Date back to the war
He talks alot
Often to himself
She dont say much
Just cuts his hair
She cant remember
Before the heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Towers in sand
America can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Back to a year
Back to a youth
Of men in church and drug cabarets
Is this the age
Of empires and dance
Oh what a world
Oh what a world
She cant remember
Before this heat
He cant remember
His wifes christian name
Paint me a picture
Bodies in sand
Presidents can fall
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Today I died again
I died again
I died today
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission

song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint Me Down

Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im walking into studio
Consider strange appeal
Paint me in the home
Im brushing up on sketchbook
Designs for love unreal
Paint me in the home
Oil and skin youll need to buy it
Consider what I mean
She sinks beneath thr moving pictures
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down
Im soaking up the surface
Conceaiving new idea
Paint me in the home
Shes oiling up her subject
But all still life is here
Paint me in the home
All the boys with framed dimension
A cover up on lust
Hell take his pain and paint it over
Prepare the brush for me
Im craving with this need
Paint me down
Paint me down
Paint me down

song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Still Smiling........

Smiled When Mother Took Me Into Her Arms For The First Time,
Smiled When Saw World Outside The Hospital For The First Time,
Smiled Whenever Went To School,
Smiled Even Being Laughed At....
And Called A Fool....
Smiled When Stood First In The Class,
Smiled When I Wasn't Misunderstood..... At Last!
Smiled When My Poem Was Said Wow!
Smiled When Realised That Only Day Is Today....
And Time Is Now......
Smiled When Got My 'True' Love,
Smiled As I Always Felt We Are Two Doves,
Smiled Even When Came To Know He's Not Mine,
Smiled Even When He Married My Friend.....
And Raised A Toast Of Wine,
Smiled Even When Lost Every Hope,
Smiled Even When Wasn't Able To Cope,
Smiled Even When Knew My End Is Near,
Smiled And Enjoyed Cutting My Nerve.......
No Fear...............
Smiled At Every Moment Of My Life,
Whenever, Wherever And Never Cried.............

But Now, I'm Lying Under A White Cover,
Father Putting Me On Fire.........
With No Blessings Left To Shower.....
People Around Have Nothing To Do With My Death
But Are Crying.........
And I'm............
Still Smiling.................................

poem by Apurva Jain
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Today I Am, Tomorrow I Wont

today i am..
tommorow i wont..

time passes...
my trail fadess

every moment we shared...may echo today
tomorrow...nothin will stay

today i dare to care..
tomorrow i will have to pay missin fare

today u taught me to smile
tomorrow u wont see me for long mile

today i seek n move towards my goal...
tomorow here.will be lying my dead soul

today i am live n fresh...
tomorow i will be forgotten vish

poem by Vishal Kumar
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My sister-in-law is a painter, and I'll say, how long did it take you to paint that painting. She'll say, It took me maybe three days, but it took me all my life to get the skills to paint that painting.

quote by Anthony Doerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In my experience a painting is not made with colors and paint at all. I don't know what a painting is; who knows what sets off even the desire to paint?

quote by Philip Guston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grand-Pa's Whim

While for me gapes the greedy grave
It don't make sense
That I should have a crazy crave
To paint our fence.
Yet that is what I aim to do,
Though dim my sight:
Jest paint them aged pickets blue,
Or green or white.

Jest squat serenely in the sun
Wi' brush an' paint,
An' gay them pickets one by one,
--A chore! It ain't.
The job is joy. Although I'm slow
I save expense:
So folks, let me before I go,
Smart that ol' fence.

Them pickets with my hands I made,
When young and spry;
I coloured them a gleeful shade
To glad the eye.
So now as chirpy as a boy,
'Ere I go hence,
Once more let me jest bright to joy
Our picket fence.

poem by Robert William Service
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Paint my eyes in flowers

paint my hands in dragons
paint my back in windings
paint my arms in lightening
paint my neck in anks
my forehead intricate lines
paint my shoulder butterflies
paint my heart in henna
in henna of red in henna of black
body paint my heart

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Today...

Today, the leaves were greener
Today, the sky wasn’t grey
Today, the sun was brighter
Yes, it changed today

Today, people transformed
Today, they weren’t rude
Today, I felt loved
All just today, it’s true

Today, I lived for today
Today, was not for the future
Today, was a great day
Not menial, tiring, brutal

Today, I laughed in silence
Today didn’t make me cry
Today, everything became clearer
But, today, I couldn’t figure out why

And today, if everything changed
And today, if it wasn’t a dream
I don’t know what happened
But today will become everyday, it seems.

poem by Shreya Madhogarhia
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Live your day...

Today, forget your past;
Today, don't worry about tomorrow.
Today, the life is vast;
Today, forget the joy and sorrow.
Today, don't belong to any caste;
Today, fill in your prevailing hollow.
Today, live in minute;
Today, work in the moment.
Today, the hero stands high;
Today, there's no time for a sigh.
Today, persevere in today;
Today, is the moment.

poem by Aashish Kalra
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Sign-Board

I will paint you a sign, rumseller,
And hang it above your door;
A truer and better signboard
Than ever you had before.
I will paint with the skill of a master,
And many shall pause to see
This wonderful piece of painting,
So like the reality.

I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother's pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile,
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses to chat awhile.

I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him-
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.

And next I will paint a drunkard-
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathsome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.

I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling's side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin,
Labeled with one word-'lost,'
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.

The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know.
But I'll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Signboard

I will paint yourself, rumseller,
As you wait for that fair young boy,
Just in the morning of manhood,
A mother’s pride and joy.
He has no thought of stopping,
But you greet him with a smile
And you seem so blithe and friendly,
That he pauses a chat awhile.

I will paint you again, rumseller,
I will paint you as you stand,
With a foaming glass of liquor
Extended in your hand.
He wavers, but you urge him –
Drink, pledge me just this one!
And he takes the glass and drains it,
And the hellish work is done.

And next I will paint a drunkard –
Only a year has flown,
But into that loathesome creature
The fair young boy has grown.
The work was sure and rapid.
I will paint him as he lies
In a torpid, drunken slumber,
Under the wintry skies.

I will paint the form of the mother
As she kneels at her darling’s side,
Her beautiful boy that was dearer
Than all the world beside.
I will paint the shape of a coffin
Labelled with one word – ‘Lost’
I will paint all this, rumseller,
And will paint it free of cost.

The sin and the shame and the sorrow,
The crime and the want and the woe
That are born there in your workshop,
No hand can paint, you know
But I’ll paint you a sign, rumseller,
And many shall pause to view
This wonderful swinging signboard,
So terribly, fearfully true.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Maybe Today

Maybe today
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe someday
Things shall be any different
Than they are today
Maybe today the moon shall smile
Maybe today the world will dance
To the music and rhythm of yesterday’s drums
Maybe today our visions will rise to its Zenith
Maybe today we shall walk on the wire of our purest imaginations
Maybe today is all we have to become the architects of our fate
Maybe today is the perfect time to make peace
Maybe today is the best day chosen to forgive and let go
Maybe today is the time to be better people than we were yesterday
Maybe today is the best day to say ”AM SORRY”
Maybe today is the day to climb the highest mountain of purpose.
Who knows what tomorrow has in store?

poem by Irenio Irenaeus Bero
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A vase of flowers

I saw a vase of purple-pink roses
lying on your dark brown buffet
and simply had to have it.

“Who painted this, ” I immediately enquired
loving the picture more with each look
that I took of it
as it’s not your thing
to paint still life’s with flowers.

“I painted it. It’s like painting pillow slips, ”
you replied and astonished
I looked at it again
and this was on board
and not in water colours
but done with oil paint.

The folds of the cups were edged
in ridges along their lines
using the techniques
of your abstract paintings
and one smaller unopened bud
laid next to the bowl
almost running into your name.

Little pink flowers was in the background
where the transparent vase with green stems
was against the wall on a tiled floor.

[Reference: Vase with roses by Mandi Engelbrecht. (This painting belongs to me.) ]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Art Will Show To Eternity Your Soul

I am a woman, using a mirror everyday,
Like all of you, i'm seeing my reflection into it,
Even i am sad, happy, tired or bored,
What i'm seeing in my mirror it's my physical reality, my own truth.

I combed my hair and looked into my mirror,
I felt so delicate, unique and simple,
Having a smile on my face today,
My mirror will smile me back as feedback in same way.

I am a painter, i adore art,
In everything i'm painting it's life,
In each painting and spot of paint my brush does,
It's a history of great ideas my minds holds.

A painting is a gate to our inner side,
Through it vibrates the universe to our hearts,
A mirror will always show your face reflection to the world,
But art will show to eternity your soul.

poem by Cristina Teodor
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Pink Flowers.

Do not text me or think otherwise
I am just picking flowers from my garden.
Last evening I picked a red rose but
Wow! It proved to be too red for my date
Today I visited the same garden
The only flower I found was a white rose.
Where is my favourite pink rose?

This morning I cycled to the market
Sure, to buy my date a pink rose
But the only roses there were yellow and purple.
Tried to enquire where I could get one
But no one knows where to find.
Went to my flower vendor but nowhere to find
Where will I get my pink rose for my date?

Tomorrow, I'll travel far and wide
Only to get this precious pink flower
And if I succeed, my date will be happy
And my heart will find a solace rest
Amidst the residue of love petals
Just with the pink flower petals.
Where will I get my Pink rose flower?

(Dedicated for my pink flower date)

poem by Aron Lelei
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Cherished Infant

Hello, white tiger infant cub!
So cherished by the rest!
As if part of a private club
That thinks that it's the best!
Today, you're quite their golden boy,
Their firstborn, full of fun!
I guess you're now their pride and joy,
Their precious number one!
I bet they've got great plans for you!
They're grooming for success...
For now, you haven't got a clue...
Life's full of happiness!
But down the road, you'll earn your keep,
With teeth and claws to match!
Then your weak legs must learn to leap,
To chase... and track... and catch!
Today, you look so cool, so cute!
So sweet and debonair...
One day, you'll turn into a brute
Who simply doesn't care!
A cherished infant here and now,
An innocent today...
No furrowed lines upon your brow,
Just stripes that look OK...
So swish your tail and pause your paws...
Be thankful while you can...
One day, you'll be a tour de force,
A tiger feared by Man!

The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Cherished Infant'.

The Stephen Gayford poems can be viewed here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com

poem by Denis Martindale
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Dedication

In youth I longed to paint
The loveliness I saw;
And yet by dire constraint
I had to study Law.
But now all that is past,
And I have no regret,
For I am free at last
Law to forget.

To beauty newly born
With brush and tube I play;
And though my daubs you scorn,
I'll learn to paint some day.
When I am eighty old,
Maybe I'll better them,
And you may yet behold
A gem.

Old Renoir used to paint,
Brush strapped to palsied hand;
His fervour of a saint
How I can understand.
My joy is my reward,
And though you gently smile,
Grant me to fumble, Lord,
A little while!