Rubens' Hell
VENUS with rosy-cloven rump
And rings of straw-bright flying hair
Looks in the glass that slaves are plying
Not for her own face floating there,
But for the sly and curious gaze
Of Rubens, through the keyhole prying.
Warm flesh of gods, by light embayed,
And drifting daemon-bones within
That sweep like music up and down
To pouts and cups of ivory skin,
Firm-valleyed croup, and swagging arm
In whose embankment bracelets drown—
Do you remain, you strokes of paint,
With Venus mocked and Rubens dead
And Beauty sold for an antique
And microscopes raised up instead?
Still are your old adherents true;
Rubens is there, if he could speak.
Rubens is there in your high room,
Rubens it is who blows his breath
To fix you laughing in the glass,
Who keeps a castle here from death
While schools go out and fashions fall
And microscopes and movements pass.
This castle-keep of joys conceived
But never sucked is Rubens' hell,
Is Rubens' limbo, cut and won
From darkness. Here he comes to dwell.
Man's heaven is the place he builds
By thoughts imagined and things done.
Some choose a paradise of gas,
And some, by pious deeds below,
The heavenly butter-hatch for flunkeys;
Who dream of nought to nothing go.
Therefore I'd sooner Rubens' hell
Than go to heaven with the donkeys.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Related quotes
Sir Peter Paul Rubens (Antwerp)
“Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres”: We felt odd:
'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean florid church
Was the next thing we saw,—from vane to porch
His drivel. The museum: as we trod
Its steps, his bust held us at bay. The clod
Has slosh by miles along the wall within.
(“I say, I somehow feel my gorge begin
To rise.”)—His chair in a glass case, by God!
. . . To the Cathedral. Here too the vile snob
Has fouled in every corner. (“Wherefore brave
Our fate? Let's go.”) There is a monument
We pass. “Messieurs, you tread upon the grave
Of the great Rubens.” “Well, that's one good job!
What time this evening is the train for Ghent?”
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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My talent is such that no undertaking, however vast in size... has ever surpassed my courage.
quote by Peter Paul Rubens
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If I had been around when Rubens was painting, I would have been revered as a fabulous model. Kate Moss? Well, she would have been the paintbrush.
quote by Dawn French
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Rubens' Innocents
IF all those tumbling babes of heaven,
Plump cherubim with blown cheeks,
Could vault in these warm skies, or leaven
Our starry silent mountain-peaks—
O painter of chub-faced, shining-thighed
Fat Ganymedes of God—what noise
Would churn between the clouds and stride
Far downward from those rose-mouthed boys!
Down to our spires their lusty whooping,
Fanfares of Paradise, would speed,
Far down to dark-faced clergy stooping
Round altars of their doleful creed;
And God, whose wings of silver sweep
Like metal afire on heaven's rim,
Would daze them with a twinkling peep
Of those young moon-stained cherubim—
Then, for a trice, their skies might sparkle,
And some gold ichor splash amid
Those most respectable, patriarchal
Purveyors of stale pardons, hid
Behind their old cathedral closes
From this unguessed, unguessable God,
Shining before their learned noses
Down roads that Peter Rubens trod.
poem by Kenneth Slessor
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Coming Of Spring
Coming of spring over the fields
she sitting there in the tall grass
talking of the effects of art on the
human mind and fragile heart and
you sitting there beside her your
hand near hers as it lay there and
you half listening to her words while
taking in a glimpse of thigh showing
where her skirt rides high out of the
corner of your eye and she saying
without the essence art life would be
a mistake and you lean forward and
kiss her neck sensing the softness of
skin the smell of sweet scent wishing
Rubens or Renoir could capture her
with brush and oils and by stretched
canvas held with the coming of spring
in this green field where songbirds sing.
poem by Terry Collett
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At The Station Of The Versailles Railway
I WAITED for the train unto Versailles.
I hung with bonnes and gamins on the bridge
Watching the gravelled road where, ridge with ridge,
Under black arches gleam the iron rails
Clear in the darkness, till the darkness fails
And they press on to light again—again
To reach the dark. I waited for the train
Unto Versailles; I leaned over the bridge,
And wondered, cold and drowsy, why the knave
Claude is in worship; and why (sense apart)
Rubens preferred a mustard vehicle.
The wind veered short. I turned upon my heel
Saying, “Correggio was a toad”; then gave
Three dizzy yawns, and knew not of the Art.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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By The Pond In Shade
She sat down with you
by the pond
the summer heat
and dragonflies
skimming across
the water's skin
and the odd duck or so
setting down there
and she said
I want to have kids one day
and be a good mother
and make my kids happy
and meet their needs
and not be a moaning mum
like my own
and you looked at her
taking your eyes off
the ducks and dragonflies
and letting them rest
upon her face
and wondered how Rubens
would catch her
or maybe Renoir
and you said
I'm sure you will some day
and they'll be lucky kids
and maybe you won't moan
or chide too much
and then silence
as you swam over
her features
her eyes
her nose
her rose kissed cheeks
the way she sat
her elbows on her knees
the summer skirt
showing a little thigh
and she said
pointing to the water
we used to swim in there
when we were young
before mother caught us
with that Barber boy
but it was fun
and innocent
but she never saw things
that way
and then she smiled at you
and you said
wish we could go swim there
like that today
while the sun's out
and the dragonflies
are skimming
and the ducks are here
but she just shook her head
and laughed
and ducks flew off
but dragonflies stayed
where you sat with her
by the pond
in cool of shade.
poem by Terry Collett
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Castle of glass
Take me down to the river bend
Take me down to the fighting end
Wash the poison from off my skin
Show me how to be whole again
Fly me up on a silver wing
Past the black where the sirens sing
Warm me up in a nova's glow
And dropp me down to the dream below
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of
glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
Bring me home in a blinding dream,
Through the secrets that I have seen
Wash the sorrow from off my skin
And show me how to be whole again
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of
glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of
glass
Hardly anything else I need to be
'Cause I'm only a crack in this castle of
glass
Hardly anything there for you to see
For you to see
For you to see
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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The Last Ditch
LOVE, through your varied views on Art
Untiring have I followed you,
Content to know I had your heart
And was your Art-ideal, too.
As, dear, I was when first we met.
('Twas at the time you worshipped Leighton,
And were attempting to forget
Your Foster and your Noel Paton.)
'Love rhymes with Art,' said your dear voice,
And, at my crude, uncultured age,
I could but blushingly rejoice
That you had passed the Rubens stage.
When Madox Brown and Morris swayed
Your taste, did I not dress and look
Like any Middle Ages maid
In an illuminated book?
I wore strange garments, without shame,
Of formless form and toneless tones,
I might have stepped out of the frame
Of a Rossetti or Burne-Jones.
I stole soft frills from Marcus Stone,
My waist wore Herkomer's disguise,
My slender purse was strained, I own,
But--my silk lay as Sargent's lies.
And when you were abroad--in Prague--
'Mid Cherets I had shone, a star;
Then for your sake I grew as vague
As Mr. Whistler's ladies are.
But now at last you sue in vain,
For here a life's submission ends:
Not even for you will I grow plain
As Aubrey Beardsley's 'lady friends.'
Here I renounce your hand--unless
You find your Art-ideal elsewhere;
I will not wear the kind of dress
That Laurence Housman's people wear!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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For All Americans Who Love Freedom
A page has turned in America
once the police were sent
into Southern cities to beat;
and arrest Afro-Americans
and those with a conscience
who believed in racial equality
for all Americans;
and we who love freedom,
were shamed, by water cannon,
and beatings lashed out,
by southern police brutality.
Now in New York, New York's
finest choose their slimiest,
to creep in during dead of night,
at 3.30am with their batons hate
aggression; to attack peaceful
protesters on Wall Street.
Protesters who protest claim
America is not the 1% richest
that George W. Bush decreed
should pay no my mates taxes.
Observe whole world watches
self promoted land of free,
claiming rule by democracy,
club their poor who were bleed
of their tax dollars, employment,
houses to pay Wall Street debts;
cheating bankers stock brokers.
Michael Rubens Bloomberg,
Mayor of New York City,
with a net worth of $19.5 billion;
in 2011, plus the 12th-richest
person in the United States
dances with glee as founder and
88% owner of Bloomberg
L.P. financial news and
information services media company;
Bloomberg does not have to pay
off mainstream media; he is the media.
Time to vote jackals out of office.
Inspired by the poem ‘Faces On Hands, Hands On Heart’ by Eric Cockrell.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What Is Your Favorite Work Of Art?
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORK OF ART?
What is you favorite work of art?
The answer that I'd like to hear is "You! "
You've been my favorite still the start
of our relationship, and when I view
you even in a reproduction
made by a camera I want to touch
the source of this work's great seduction,
the work of art I love so very much.
Even if you don't say "You! "
and your answer doesn't correspond
to mine, please do not look askew
at me while you are looking far beyond.
Kate Murphy interviews the director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York.in the NYT,4/29/12. He tells her:
I first heard Rufus Wainwright by accident about five years ago. I was doing research at Hampton Court in England and I came out one summer afternoon and he was doing a sound check. I heard him sing a song called "The Art Teacher, " which just happens to be about a girl falling in love with an art teacher at the Metropolitan Museum and looking back on this experience in her middle age. It's such an evocative and brilliant song, and I've loved his music ever since.
There are the song's lyrics:
THE ART TEACHER
There I was in uniform
Looking at the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
He was not that much older than I was
He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum
He asked us what our favorite work of art was,
But never could I tell it was him
Oh, I wish I could tell him -
Oh, I wish I could have told him
I looked at the Rubens and Rembrandts
I liked the John Singer Sargents
He told me he liked Turner
Never have I turned since then
No, never have I turned to any other man
All this having been said,
I married an executive company head
All this having been done, a Turner - I own one
Here I am in this uniformish, pant-suit sort of thing,
Thinking of the art teacher
I was just a girl then;
Never have I loved since then
No, never have I loved any other man
4/29/12 #10,032
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Heaven Is Hell Without You
Why don't you come here?
Why don't you see me?
Why won't you call me?
Why won't you free the inner thought?
I have not spoken
In quite a few days
But you have not answered
Have you nothing to say?
Heaven is Hell without you
Oh yes I know it is true
Heaven is Hell without you
What can I do?
You have not tried to
Reach out to see me
How can I trust you?
Long as you don't free inner thoughts
Heaven is Hell without you
Oh yes I know it is true
Heaven is Hell without you
What can I do?
Paradise falling
Into sweet demise
You cannot answer
I cannot stand the paranoia
Oh yes I know it is true
Heaven is Hell without you
poem by Pete Rivera
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Life and death
This world is driven by two contending powers--
Love, that coerceth Heaven to dwell with dust,
And that dire pledge of Hell's self-perjured Lust--
And as we list must Heaven and Hell be ours.
Not light the election runs: lo, each devours
That savour set in each, while equal gust
Each uses; yet our choice support we must--
Blest wine or, this rejected, sweat that sours.
Love, oft through Hell that seems, acclaims what Heaven!
But Lust, through seeming Heaven, with easy breath
Slides on to Hell, how soon, how richly given!
If Love to heavenly state so quickeneth,
While Lust must e'er in cheating Hell be shriven,
They sponsor what, these powers, but Life and Death?
poem by William Baylebridge
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Hell Or Heaven
Mama used to say to me
You can make your destiny
Keep your feet planted on the ground
You can always get it back
Make a castle from a one room shack
It's what you make of what you've found
Son you're gonna find out when you're older
There's always been the hand of God
Resting right there on your shoulder
Will it be hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
Saw a man the other day
Had it made in every way
Till his greed brought him down
He was blinded by the city lights
Now he shivers in the cold at night
Who will save the lifeguard
When he's about to drown
Will it be hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
You know you're gonna walk on through the fire
You know you're gonna feel the pain
You know you're gonna lose if you wanna win the game
And every time your heart is breakin'
And every time your faith is shaken
Just remember what mama said
Oh yeah
Hope when my time has come
I'm left enough to build upon
Ain't no one gonna say I didn't try
And here's why
Hell or heaven on Earth
The choice is up to you
Look to the sky, the answer is clear
Are you gonna live life for all it's worth
Choose hell or heaven on Earth
If you live it right
There's nothing to fear
'Cause you'll find heaven right here
You'll find heaven right here (x3)
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven And Hell
Imagine no Heaven and no Hell, these are words on which to dwell,
Written by a spiritually empty pen, this, to deceive a world of men.
Told to think about just today, ignoring what God’s Word does say,
Suggesting nothing about eternity, but only what their eyes can see.
But, there is a Heaven up above, a place in Eternity, filled with love,
The dwelling place of Eternal God, reigning above the earth we trod.
And there really is a Hell beneath, full of wailing and gnashing teeth.
The Hell Christ described my friend, is a lake of fire that has no end.
This man’s imagination will not last, when his life upon earth is past,
And indeed all men will face reality, when they pass on into eternity.
Heaven and Hell were spoke of, by Jesus Christ, who reigns above.
Hell was created by God for sin, that in mortal bodies reigns within,
Created for Satan and his crew, not initially intended for me or you,
A place in Heaven is prepared for us, who in Christ place their trust,
But, one thing that cannot enter in, the Glories of Heaven is our sin.
So Christ came as our sacrifice, to cleanse believers, for Paradise.
Up in Heaven not down in Hell, is where believers one day will dwell,
And not through vain imagination, but through God’s great Salvation.
Hell eternally is prepared for, Satan and all men who reject The Lord,
Far from a mindless interjection, it is for many their eternal selection.
(Copyright ©08/2007)
Heaven vs Hell
A breath away from heaven, yet a spark away from hell.
I titter on a tightrope of thoughts and deeds that foretell
My future in this life, but may well sacrifice the other…
Unless I’m strong enough to believe there is another.
One day it seems that reams of problems aren’t worth my time;
Then another sunrise bestows fortunes far beyond sublime.
Can it be that there is a spirit that represents all that is good,
And a countervailing force deterring the course of what I should?
Now rules of the game seem to reward only those able to win.
No thought is given to whether their ways are moral, right... or a sin.
For them hell is only a possibility from an economic point of view;
Until they possess all the wealth, that’s the heaven they’ll pursue.
For such individuals heaven and hell can be closer than ever before;
Sadly, addiction to false heavenly riches turn them into hell’s whores.
As I titter on life’s tightrope, both heaven and hell seem oh so near.
Deeds of love and not needs for wealth mean I have nothing to fear.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Children Of The Stars
Distant stars align when we are born
Witnesses include Angels' n’ Avatars
Whether Virgo, Libra or Capricorn
We’re Sons n’ Daughters of the stars
ROTMS
Excerpts from “The Emerald Tablet” by Dennis William Hauck:
“Distillation” Primary to Virgo
The alchemists considered the astrological characteristics of Distillation to be primarily those of Virgo, whose cipher was assigned to represent the operation. The Egyptians associated their mother goddess Isis with the sign of her theme of changing from a child-like state to a wiser, individualized state was represented by the ripening of crops. The quest of Virgo persons is for meaningful service, and they are therefore closely allied with Hermes. Those Born under this Earth sign like things in order, sometimes worry too much, and have a tendency toward licentiousness, but conscientiousness is their redeeming trait and they have an amazingly unselfish sense of service to others. The also tend to be precise and analytical, seeking to know and understand everything. Famous people born under the contradictory sign of the Virgin include Mother Teresa, Oliver Stone, Dr. Joyce Brother, Lily Tomlin, Keanu Reeves, Michal Jackson, and Paul Rubens.
“Sublimation” Primary to Libra
Libra is the astrological sign of the alchemists chose to denote the process of sublimation. The ancient Egyptians associated this Air Sign with Chonsu, the Divine Child, as well as Maat, the goddess of Truth so revered by Akhenaten. The search for the Libra person is a true soul mate. Librans tend to be artistically sensitive, sociable, balanced, charming, and sympathetic to others. While prizing beauty and harmony, they can sometimes be temperamental or indecisive, which makes people doubt their judgment. Famous people born under the sign of the Scales are T.S. Eliot, E.E. Cummings, Truman Capote, John Lennon, Jimmy Carter, Mahatma Gandhi, Jesse Jackson, Johnny Carson, and Barbara Walters.
poem by Ray Lucero
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Heaven N Hell! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! : (
A place of wonder,
A place of grief,
Where float angels and demons.
Flowers n flames surrounding em,
In a place they call HEAVEN n HELL.
Heaven is like sweet surprise
While, OH! Hell is where torture rise
Heaven blooms with happiness n wise,
While hell craves for revenge n cries.
A lovely place, many say,
With faces beaming day and day
I'm dying of misery, many cry
With dark faces and tear soaked eyes.
Angels gaze at heavens door,
The evil sneer of demons that stroll.
Darkness fails to conquer heaven
While light captures hell
Happiness starts from heavens door
While hell is filled with grief n more
U cannot escape the misery in hell,
While heaven is a place free from spell.
poem by Harshika Ram
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Heaven And Hell
What if I told you
There was no place you could run to
To hide from your fears
Where good is bad and bad is good
And all the cries your cry
No one can hear
Is it heaven - is it hell
Life is what you make it only time will tell
Is it heaven - is it hell
Life is what you make it only time...
Need someone to talk to
But theres no one you can turn to
You cry out in despair
Gotta feeling you should be kneeling on your knees
You scream to the air
Lord the pain it takes its toll
The devil wants to take my soul
Tell me what should I do
The answer that you need to find
Is in the seeds youve sown
Its all up to you
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Death and destruction is all in your mind
Could hell be the place for the peace you must find
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Is God your savior - the key to the light
Or is it hell burning the flames so bright
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
Times running out - not a second to pause
Be strong in your choice
The decision is yours
Its your life - its up to you
Now its time to choose
song performed by by 24-7 Spyz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Deceiver
Health-food faggot with a bartered bride
Likes to comb his hair with a dipper ride
Once had a friend with a cloven foot
Once he called the tune in a chequered quit
Great deceiver
In the door on the floor in a paper bag
Theres a shoe-shine boy with a gin-shop slag
She raised him up and she called him son
And she canonised the ground that he walked upon
Great deceiver
Cigarettes, ice cream, figurines of the virgin mary
Cigarettes, ice cream, figurines of the virgin mary
Cigarettes, ice cream, cadillacs blue jeans
In the night hes a star in the milky way
Hes a man of the world by the light of day
A golden smile and a proposition
And the breath of God smells of sweet sedition
Great deceiver
Sing hymns make love get high fall dead
Hell bring his perfume to your bed
Hell charm your life til the cold winds blow
Then hell sell your dreams to a picture show
Cigarettes, ice cream, figurines of the virgin mary
Cigarettes, ice cream, figurines of the virgin mary
Cadillacs, blue jeans, dixieland playing on the ferry
Cadillacs, blues jeans, drop a glass full of antique sherry
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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