Le Bateau Is Hanging Upside Down
'Isn't it recondite' said the patron
Who observed the Matisse for inspection
As if he were an expertise General
Protecting culture on his mantel
'Yes it is' I squirmed with breath
Perspiration was in my brain
Hoping to come out with the wisdom
Of knowing what I didn't know
Sensing my every twitching askance
He looked at me with half a scrawl
Dalmatian conceit in his posture
Wagging his lips of disapproval
'Of course you don't understand
I can see it writen in your face
Let me enlighten you to what this means-
This artist is embracing symbolic transformation
Utilizing reductionism for grand complexity
Notice how the azure refracts the duplicate
As the mauve lines are edging simulated movement
This is revolutionary of modern art
We are seeing the principle subject
Disposed of the auxiliary minute
It's mesmerizing what he's done truly
It understandable you don't see it most people don't'
Just as he finished his sermon
Two men in overalls came for the painting
They flipped the painting upside down
And one of than men looked at us and said
'Now it's on the right side'
They walked away and I smiled
My companions face was stoned
He never spoke another word
But I guess most people understand
That the Le Bateau was hanging upside down
poem by Kevin Patrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Bonzo Goes To Bitberg
You've got to pick up the pieces C'mon, sort your trash
You better pull yourself back together Maybe you've got too much cash
Better call, call the law When you gonna turn yourself in? Yeah
You're a politician Don't become one of Hitler's children
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
Shouldn't wish you happiness, wish her the very best Fifty thousand dollar dress
Shaking hands with your highness See through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain, but you do it anyway Who am I, am I to say
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on TV somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
If there's one thing that makes me sick It's when someone tries to hide behind politics
I wish that time could go by fast Somehow they manage to make it last
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bonzo Goes To Bitburg
Youve got to pick up the pieces cmon, sort your trash
You better pull yourself back together maybe youve got too much cash
Better call, call the law when you gonna turn yourself in? yeah
Youre a politician dont become one of hitlers children
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on tv somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
Shouldnt wish you happiness, wish her the very best fifty thousand dollar dress
Shaking hands with your highness see through you like cellophane
You watch the world complain, but you do it anyway who am i, am I to say
Bonzo goes to bitburg then goes out for a cup of tea
As I watched it on tv somehow it really bothered me
Drank in all the bars in town for an extended foreign policy
Pick up the pieces
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
If theres one thing that makes me sick its when someone tries to hide behind politics
I wish that time could go by fast somehow they manage to make it last
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
My brain is hanging upside down I need something to slow me down
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
and it was Her Summer
…And It Was Her Summer
“Go back to the children’s home, she said I have no work and
can’t afford to keep you” Late June afternoon she sat on a bench
with a man I didn’t know. The man smiled I didn’t like him, but
took the coins he gave me to buy an ice –cream for; I was still
hanging about so mother got up and slapped me across the face.
”Get lost you stupid boy! ” My face was burning I threw the coins
into the lake and ran away. When I stopped running it was night
and I could see sheep in a field, I was tired and cold, thought of
seeking shelter in a little wooden church, but it smelt of fear and
I thought of ghosts, so I walked on till I came to a workman’s hut
near the road, it was easy to get in; here the smell was of coffee,
and kind men in overalls, perhaps one of them were my father?
It was morning and warm sunlight when they came, they were not
angry, but gave me milk and bread and showed me the quickest
way to get home. The sky that day was enormous and from a hill
I looked down to the town, I could see the school building it must
have been early, no children in the yard; but I just sat there and
could not understand why my mother didn’t want to se me.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And You Don’t Remember Me
I sat on the park bench
pen and notebook in hand.
I watched all the people
as they passed on by.
I wondered how in life
each one of them had fared
with their happiness
and their sorrows.
I looked for inspiration
for something to write.
She looked at me and smiled,
I smiled back
thinking that was that.
“You don’t remember me? ”
She said and sat down.
I looked at her again
as memories swirled
around in my mind.
She was right
I didn’t remember her
Her hair was mousey colour
with flecks of grey
starting to appear here and there.
There were thick lines
across her forehead,
crow feet lines
near the corners of her eyes.
The corners of her mouth
drooped just slightly.
Her blues eyes were striking
and I knew I had seen them before,
but they were with a younger face
a long time ago.
A face that lit up
whenever she spoke.
“You still don’t remember me? ”
She asked once again.
I shook my head,
but unfortunately, I did.
I could remember
all the beauty
she had had in her youth,
before time had ravaged her
and taken away her beauty
and her youth.
She looked so sad.
I wanted to reach out
like I always wanted to,
but something deep inside,
a little voice you could call it,
kept telling me no.
My urge to hold her
was trying to win out,
but I couldn’t do it.
She was no longer
a part of my life.
All she was now
was a memory I clung to,
a memory of my youth
so long, long ago.
With notebook and pen,
I smiled and bit her farewell.
I whispered her name
as I said a last goodbye.
I didn’t look back
or I would have looked back with regret.
She was a past,
something none of us can ever relive.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Perfect Painting
Perfect painting
An azure, sinless sky
a whisper of white clouds
and a yellow sun.
The canvas was big
but the painter got bored
walked home.
It rained in the night
canvas, dark and ominous
the artist was contented.
Painting, just the way
it was intended,
but he didn´t bother to sign it.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back up the Hill
As I walked down to the river today
I met a man with no legs in a chair
we spoke about life and he stood tall in a way
as I walked down to the river
As I walked on I met a blind girl
who gave me directions just over the hill
for someone like me who was lost she could see
as I walked on to the river
Down by the banks I met a small child
whose mother and father had recently died
and he splashed around with a heartful of life
down by the banks of the river
As I looked in the river I saw a young man
a reflection of me if you understand
who thought he would end it as he coudn't cope
as I looked into the river
Considering the people I met on the way
they didn't give up I heard myself say
and though I believed that I'd been through the mill
I laughed at the river, and walked back up the hill.
poem by Charles M. Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Art'life
At the Oslo art museum we went to see Edvard Munck’s
“The Scream.” Yeah I know that feeling.
I bought a print it cost about twenty Euros, it now hangs
on the wall in front of me and it screams for me.
But his painting “The Kiss” absorbed me the most, it
is one of the greatest sensual, painting I have ever seen.
There were many other paintings of great masters, but
I didn’t see them as “the kiss” blurred my sight.
There was a reverent whispering in the room, I didn’t
cared for, like being in a church where even a cough is
frown upon. When my wife went to the loo I told a female
security guard she looked like the woman in the “kiss.”
Her stern, blue eyes softened, she giggled and said:
“But you can’t see the woman’s face in the painting.” No dear,
but if I could it would be a face as beautiful as yours.”
More guards came and I was escorted out of the building.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You cannot turn my smile upside down
But there is just always
Always a smile on my face
And that’s something you can’t replace
You cannot turn my smile upside down
Oh my teeth are so white
They are meant to be in sight
My breath smells like mint
Do you get the hint?
You cannot turn my smile upside down
You can try
You can hope
You can wish
You can hate
You can gossip
Or just say it to my face
You can lie
But you cannot turn my smile upside down
poem by Emily Muniz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Intrusive Inspection
Across the room he turned to stand and stare at her,
She felt her soul stripped bare by this striking stranger.
No longer conscious of knowing her present location,
Yet sensing this intrusive inspection, she felt such elation.
Across the room she observed him walking towards her,
Great anxiety rising, and feeling deep passions stir.
Then face to face their lips met in complete sensual bliss,
And two became one with an incredible emotional kiss.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pose
He looked at the painting,
his lover in the nude.
And as he stared
it always changed his mood.
Young and frail
but still a delight.
He looked at the painting
on every night.
He remembered the pose
as if yesterday,
provocative it was,
her eyes far away.
Were they remembering
the brush strokes used
or the feel of his hand
and how they fused
together as one
when the pose was over.
Now all that was left
was the painting,
not the lover.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Each painting has its own way of evolving...When the painting is finished, the subject reaveals itself.
quote by William Baziotes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Clown
(clarke / hicks / nash)
I see a clown painting his face once more
Before the show has started
He paints a smile on his face with his makeup now
Although hes broken hearted
But the rule of the clown is simple
And the show must go on as always
People are there to laugh at him
And he mustnt let them down
Hes lost someone dear to him
And hes crying now although he doesnt show it
He gives the show of his life though hes breaking down
Although youd never know it
But theres something different about his smile
An unfamiliar frown
Yes theres something different about him now
Hes painted his smile on upside down
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Painting The Walls
painting the walls,
rolling over handprints,
cobwebs, and smoke stains....
over splashes of color,
over peels of time.
painting over the sounds
of voices whispering, laughing....
painting over tears hidden
from the world, from each other.
painting over running, and working,
working all day and half the night.
painting over children, and dreams,
folded like old clothes, and put away.
painting over notes from God,
that were often barely noticed...
painting over the nail that held
up the clock, hands moving slowly,
turning the seasons of living....
painting over the final words,
the last breath held in the hands,
of lives written in the grain....
the testimony of each feeling....
painting the walls,
and brushing the corners,
as if we never lived!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
the Touch**********************1979
i looked up into the deep blue sky
little white clouds were floating by
i looked upon this young girls face
she held it down in disgrace.
i looked upon her cheeks so fair
she looked up to me to see if i care
i looked at her with content
and she knew right there it was heaven sent.
she smiled at me, and our eyes then touched
we knew then, it was much to much.
our hearts entwined and her lips met mine
we felt right there it was a love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Artist
He gave a picture exhibition,
Hiring a little empty shop.
Above its window: FREE ADMISSION
Cajoled the passers-by to stop;
Just to admire - no need to purchase,
Although his price might have been low:
But no proud artist ever urges
Potential buyers at his show.
Of course he badly needed money,
But more he needed moral aid.
Some people thought his pictures funny,
Too ultra-modern, I'm afraid.
His painting was experimental,
Which no poor artist can afford-
That is, if he would pay the rental
And guarantee his roof and board.
And so some came and saw and sniggered,
And some a puzzled brow would crease;
And some objected: "Well, I'm jiggered!"
What price Picasso and Matisse?
The artist sensitively quivered,
And stifled many a bitter sigh,
But day by day his hopes were shivered
For no one ever sought to buy.
And then he had a brilliant notion:
Half of his daubs he labeled: SOLD.
And lo! he viewed with queer emotion
A public keen and far from cold.
Then (strange it is beyond the telling),
He saw the people round him press:
His paintings went - they still are selling...
Well, nothing succeeds like success.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Real Art
Real Art
I woke up a blue neon light, outside my hotel room,
kept lightning up my space, I looked out and saw
a man in a cafe sitting by the counter eating a burger,
he had hat on and looked ca 1948.
Knew I was in an Edward Hopper painting but didn’t
want to be a part of his bleak cityscape of lone men
who live in cheap hotels and drink coffee in a cafe,
which clientele are lost souls like me.
I splashed water in my face adjusted my tie put my
hat on and walked out, a cab drove by looking for
a fare, I opened the cafe’s door, the man with hat had
gone, drank coffee and ate a doughnut.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
x15-I Saw My Death
-Jane Spencers-
My grave has kept away my secrets.
The leaves are greener, the grasses-taller.
I heard you talking to me
with your solemn tears...
you didn't have to say you're sorry
for taking away my cheers;
for taking away my lover...
for making it all over.
Coz it's not the reason why i died...
as this empty earth has always denied.
The petals had fallen, the waters had flowed...
leaves are greener, grasses standing on the ground.
I saw my death when I saw his face-
how it glowed when he looked at you deeply;
he looked at you the way he never did to me.
I saw my death when I saw his smile-
he smiled beyond his heart when
he smiled at you sweetly...
He smiled at you the way he never did to me.
I saw my death when he looked into my eyes,
and all i can see is my empty grave,
and all others are lies.
When he looked at me, but it's you he sees...
I never want to breath.
The day he said he loves you
was the day I saw my death.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the painting is hanging on your wall for a long time, you don't notice it. You get tired of it, even if it's a Picasso. When the next generation inherits the painting, they sell it. I don't want to be sold.
quote by Julio Iglesias
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Summer Recess of 62.
It was the second day
of the summer recess
and Judith and you
walked through the field
behind her house
and sat down on the grass
the sky above blue
like an upside-down ocean
with the white clouds
like small fluffy islands
and she said
Mother doesn't trust you
why not?
you asked
she doesn't trust any male
she says they're all after
the one thing
you looked at her
sitting there beside you
her hair brown and curly
and her eyes blue
and bright
and you said
not all males
are the same
she looked up
at the sky
and said
I know but that's
how she sees things
my mother likes you
you said
she says you're good for me
keep me focused
she smiled
and lay back
on the grass
and you lay
beside her
and turned
to look at her there
taking in her profile
and she turned
to face you
and she said
does your mother
trust us to be together?
sure she does
you said
an airplane
went over the sky
a sparrow hawk
hovered above
its eyes watching
and waiting
you put your hand
on her hip
and she placed
her hand on yours
you felt her hipbone
beneath her green skirt
moved your palm
gently over and over
she moved your hand
off of her hip
and said
just in case
mother's looking at us
from the upstairs window
would she?
you asked
of course
she said
she held your hand
and took it
and laid it
on her breast
her heart
somewhere beating
your hand sensing
the softness beneath
the white blouse
and she said
just as well
she never saw us
last Christmas
and you smiled
and remembered
and the sparrow hawk
flew off through the sky
and the sound
of a distant train
and your heart thumping
like the downpour of rain.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!