Travellers gallery
Travellers gallery
~
welcome to the travellers gallery
the windows frame a world
from water coloured rivers
to pastel forests and fields
sketched out towns spread out
between charcoal cities
nameless people, faces
all passing in a hurry
the travellers gallery presents
a life in motion exhibition
all in natural hue colour
by bus, train or car
the landscape and portraits
become ingrained in memory
welcome to the travellers gallery
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Related quotes
The gallery of my heart
The gallery of my heart
~
Like a portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
A girl of undoubted beauty
Breathtaking and full of wonder
Holds my gaze completely
I find my words flowing
In a river of adoration
I dedicate her my soul
There is a girl of beauty
Beyond which none compare
Painted to a memory
In the gallery of my heart
The softness of her eyes
A warmth to her lips
Fair skin and cascading hair
What love may imagine
When looking upon
A girl in portrait hung
In the gallery of my heart
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Gagosian Gallery
gagasian gallery
gage gallery
age gallery
age galley
age alley
age lye
alley
lye
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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The Gallery Owner
The Gallery Owner
He had been to the doctors
nothing could be done, they are
not magicians and he had
a painting exhibition at his
gallery tonight.
Sat in his chair leaning left,
less pain that way, some thought
he had had too much to drink.
In the night he was saved
from further agony,
a sudden heart attack.
Many people came to his
funereal, a lyrical lady singer
sang about love and loss;
there were tears;
...and then the silence began.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I love the gallery, the arena of representation. It's a commercial world, and morality is based generally around economics, and that's taking place in the art gallery.
quote by Jeff Koons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Maryanne Webber Gallery
Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maryanne Webber Gallery
Maryanne Webber Gallery is on Lurcerne Ave.
featuring fine American crafts, one of a kind jewelry and art glass.
Her gallery represents Florida artists and artists from around the USA,
she has been open since 1990 and is very successful till this day.
Her gallery also has metal sculptures, hand silks and wearable art,
her gallery represents Joan Edelstein, her Arts & Passion Scarf.
She also has sculptures made of clay, one of a kind and handmade.
Her gallery displays original Blue Vase of Elodie Holmes,
a beautiful sculptured piece to cherish in your home.
Also you will find a one of a kind Zip 20 Clock, by David Scherer Designs.
Home accessories that I find colorful and bright,
is hand painted Tropical Wine Glasses by Leslie Millar to drink wine at night.
Maryanne’s gallery is open Monday through Friday,10 till 5 and Saturday 10 to 4,
make sure you stop by and see what unique gifts her gallery has in store.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on November 12,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gallery
I fell in love in the gallery
where every painting
had a story still to tell
the portraits of nature
every hue of wild beauty
caught my soul breathless
I wandered through worlds
those places of such scenery
which caught, held my eye
I imagined the feel of the air
the scent which filled each picture
touching my skin, filling my nose
my eyes wide open feasted upon
such beauty the likes of which
I had hardly every seen
nether less thought to imagine
I walked almost listless
in no hurry to leave this place
I fell in love in the gallery
where portraits of nature
told me their story
poem by Matthew Holloway
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A pastel dream
Oh for a kiss would my heart resign
Those pastel sketches I have dreamt
Those same dreams which filled my days
Told of a great love and romance kept
A gallery of portraits I have seen
Pictured my soul became revealed
I saw the beauty of which I desired
Inspired by a greater beauty to life
And all of this I have surveyed
The pastel landscape of a world imagined
Soft, softly drawn with tender care
The heart, the soul did bring to view
A passionate desire gentle in its nature
All of which created this picture
This pastel daydream I have dreamt
I would surrender it all, I would resign
To feel a kiss from her lips touch mine
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Travellers
They came as travellers
and were mistaken as Gods
in olden times.
They came from distant worlds
and some simply lost their way.
Their remnants lay hidden,
locked in vaults away from our day.
Their secrets to be revealed
by what they called a primitive society.
Their voices silenced
for the good of all
some would say,
until new travellers arrive
to find those who disappeared
into our yesterdays.
11 July 2008
poem by David Harris
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7th Channel
Bide my time,
Everything will be in line,
Mystic rhyme,
Nine and three and five are mine,
Memories,
Past, future, now,
Show me,
Just where mans destiny will lie.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Make a race,
And mutate,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Magnetize all your actions powerfully,
Energize everything you touch and see,
Change minds,
Rebuild the world,
Unlock
The healing power in you heart.
Human race,
Outa space,
Travellers.
Human race,
Lost in space,
Warriors.
Make a race,
And mutate,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
Magnetize,
Energize,
Travellers.
Human race,
Outa space,
Warriors.
Unify,
Open eye,
Clarity.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lament Of A Bereaved Person
A russet pear-tree rises all alone,
But rich the growth of leaves upon it shown!
I walk alone, without one brother left,
And thus of natural aid am I bereft.
Plenty of people there are all around,
But none like my own father's sons are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by,
Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;--
Why not perform for me the helping deed?
A russet pear-tree rises all alone,
But rich with verdant foliage o'ergrown.
I walk alone, without one brother's care,
To whom I might, amid my straits repair.
Plenty of people there are all around,
But none like those of my own name are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by,
Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;--
Why not perform for me the helping deed?
In The Gallery
Harry made a bareback rider proud and free upon a horse
And a fine coalminer for the ncb that was
A fallen angel and jesus on the cross
A skating ballerina you should have seen her do the skaters waltz
Some people have got to paint and draw
Harry had to work iin clay and stone
Like the waves coming to the shore
It was in his blood and in his bones
Ignored by all the trendy boys in london and in leeds
He might as well have been making toys or strings of beads
He could not be in the gallery
And then you get an artist says he doesnt want to paint at all
He takes an empty canvas and sticks it on the wall
The birds of a feather all the phonies and all of the fakes
While the dealers they get together
And they decide who gets the breaks
And whos going to be in the gallery
No lies he wouldnt compromise
No junk no bits of string
And all the lies we subsidise
That just dont mean a thing
Ive got to say he passed away in obscurity
And now all the vultures are coming down from the tree
So hes going to be in the gallery
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Church is not a gallery for the exhibition of eminent Christians, but a school for the education of imperfect ones.
quote by Henry Ward Beecher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thirsty Travellers
When zebras migrate plain to plain
They brave the hunters, too,
These travellers have much to gain
As each one sees it through...
Consider running to and fro,
Attacked on either side,
Then panicked, wondering where to go,
When there's no place to hide...
Such are the burdens each must face
The whole day long, no doubt,
In seeking some great resting place,
Like that's what life's about...
Survivors left to tell the tales
Of how, somehow, they lived,
Despite the fact another fails
And loses life's sweet gift...
Thirsty travellers find the shore,
To line up cautiously,
To face the crocodiles and more
Takes utmost bravery...
Each baptised zebra takes his chance,
With courage rarely known...
In hopes, somehow, the odds enhance
When none there swims alone...
Denis Martindale, copyright, December 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Thirsty Travellers'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Capitol Art
Snuggled in the Nation’s Capital
You’ll never believe what we saw
An art gallery so wonderful
It was truly an exceptional draw
Cowboy art sure takes you back
To the old western days
Cowboys with rope in hand
Gathering up all the strays
An early part of American history
And the perfect place in which to find
In our Capital in Washington DC
We must not leave history behind
If you ever get a chance, my friend
To tour this extraordinary place
Take advantage of this art gallery
For history we should never waste!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Ingrained
memory ingrained in the memory,
faces ingrained in the wood.
light ingrained in the darkness,
evil ingrained in the good.
poor man ingrained in the bricks
that built the rich man's home.
father ingrained in the child,
his destination, gone...
freedom ingrained in oppression,
moth ingrained in the flame.
tomorrow ingrained in today,
the nameless ingrained in the name.
courage ingrained in the fears
that determination overcomes.
God ingrained in the human,
left standing when all is done!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Colder The Air
We must admire her perfect aim,
this huntress of the winter air
whose level weapon needs no sight,
if it were not that everywhere
her game is sure, her shot is right.
The least of us could do the same.
The chalky birds or boats stand still,
reducing her conditions of chance;
air's gallery marks identically
the narrow gallery of her glance.
The target-center in her eye
is equally her aim and will.
Time's in her pocket, ticking loud
on one stalled second. She'll consult
not time nor circumstance. She calls
on atmosphere for her result.
(It is this clock that later falls
in wheels and chimes of leaf and cloud.)
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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I never can pass by the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York without thinking of it not as a gallery of living portraits but as a cemetery of tax-deductible wealth.
quote by Lewis H. Lapham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gallery
When I first saw your gallery
I liked the ones of ladies
Then you began to hang up me
You studied to portray me
In ice and greens
And old blue jeans
And naked in the roses
Then you got into funny scenes
That all your work discloses
Lady, dont love me now I am dead
I am a saint, turn down your bed
I have no heart, thats what you said
You said, I can be cruel
But let me be gentle with you
Somewhere in a magazine
I found a page about you
I see that now its josephine
Who cannot be without you
I keep your house in fit repair
I dust the portraits daily
Your mail comes here from everywhere
The writing looks like ladies
Lady, please love me now, I am dead
I am a saint, turn down your bed
I have no heart, thats what you said
You said, I can be cruel
But let me be gentle with you
I gave you all my pretty years
Then we began to weather
And I was left to winter here
While you went west for pleasure
And now youre flying bock this way
Like some lost homing pigeon
Theyve monitored your brain, you say
And changed you with religion
Lady, please love me now I was dead
I am no saint, turn down your bed
Lady, have you no heart, thats what you said
Well, I can be cruel
But let me be gentle with you
When I first saw your gallery
I liked the ones of ladies
But now their faces follow me
And all their eyes look shady
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Casa Lima
The house I want to build
with the cement I make,
the stone I carry and I brake, and
the sweat I add to the mixture.
My dream house,
Eileen's house,
my gallery, and her gallery.
It gathers everything
we both like and want
my casa,
my house,
my shelter
my lima.
The sun light,
the space,
the garden,
the bath tab,
the kitchen,
the big table,
the sofa,
the basement staffed with cheese, dry meet, and wine,
the sea is at the horizon,
the mountain,
the river,
the guest room,
a little space for Tango, Salsa, or any new type of dance,
a book shelves
Are added as needed.
we both have dreams
and we will never stop dreaming.
poem by Atef Ayadi
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