It's one of his radical paintings
They refused to take his painting for the Exhibition.
The reason they explained; ' It's a blank canvas.'
Then the painter argued; ' It's titled as Blank life.'
'At least there should be a brush mark then we can accept.' the director of the Art Gallery said.
With his ball point pen he kept a dot in the middle of the canvas
And added to the title as 'Full stop to the blank life.'
The director was really appreciated and taken the painting back.
* To my friend Denis.Joe who threw a torch into my little dark World and I saw this strange sign shines in the darkness.
'If the door is locked, someone is inside? '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Related quotes
Blank
Blank pages, blank lines
Blank heart, blank mind
Blank feeling, blank soul
Blank high, blank low.
I dont know why
You just cant see
That all you've ever known
Is the blank side of me.
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
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Blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I'd write a letter to you
And there'd be nothing to it
I wouldn't hem and haw
On just how to start it
I wish I was blank
I wish I was blank
I wish I could thank
I wish I was blank
I wish I'd stand up straight
I wish I'd said things different
I wish I'd said nothing
Things would be so perfect
I wish myself to keep
I pray my soul to sleep
I wish myself away
I wish I was blank
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from The Aeroplane Flies High
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Blank Canvas
A blank canvas waits every morning
as the sun begins to rise.
It waits for me to start thinking
of what today will be my prize.
Whatever it may be, I know
a new destination will come aboard
and my creations will be my guides to follow
to new adventures I will afford,
seeking and finding the colours and words
to fill in the emptiness of my blank canvas.
poem by David Harris
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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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Facing a Blank: Part 1
I sit here facing a blank
and it is perhaps one of the hardest things I do
to see before me an expanse of blank things
to decide how I should fill them in
there is everything to encompass
for all the world to see, itself looking back
a mirror wouldn't do,
because the truth merely hides behind mirrors
it does not look out through them.
every random thought that I notice out of the corner of my eye
has its own appeal and appeals to me
to use it to fill the blank spaces.
To every random thought I look and in them I see the world
every one of them looking out at me and crying
for recognition and redemption
and the blank spaces agree that this is not what I should put down.
So I sit here still, facing a blank.
poem by Poet Dragon
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A Wonderful Painting
A Wonderful Painting
by Alex Lewis
I remember before my mother's art
When I was but an egg.
The painting took color in every part.
One shade is but a leg.
The lavish blues spread across the page like a waving, smiling sea.
The canvas was plain and bare, except the blues, happily set free.
With the blue, I went to play as childish as I may.
The one clam and I sat with ourselves on the whaling bay.
This is me, like a leaf, on my first day at green.
So, all the others spoke; I found that none were mean.
There were dark greens, light ones, and one stuck in the middle.
After math, my friend and I learnt to play the fiddle.
My friend and I continued to play our little tune.
We soon fell in pink to which neither one was immune.
Our pink grew and grew as each day had passed.
Green had ended blue; only pink would last.
We took our pink and ran right through to angry, waiting brown.
Brown was angry for making him wait with a black-white frown.
We explained that blue made us wait for an azure set of eighteen.
He forgave us. My friend, brown, pink, and I live for only one team.
We decided to get the canvas and add a dash of white.
Pink was overwhelmed as white carried on through the love-filled night.
We can add white to family before blue decides to return again.
Red will also join the painting party-Another eighteen before men!
It took a lot of work to make my dear reds come.
I enjoyed the work, but my reds were way more fun.
One red stayed with us, but the other ran away rather young.
Maybe brown kidnapped him early, but strange words travel by tongue.
We turned grey as brown dimmed down, but we swear we've never seen pink more bright!
Brown had completely gone, like both of our reds, but pink still made things light.
I then feared and cried as my pink's grey burned out like a setting sun.
My grey began to fade too, but I was ready. My life was done.
My mother handed me the canvas and the frame,
But I had to add all the colors (none I showed for shame) .
Blue, green, pink, brown, red, grey-my portrait is made of those colors,
But I am just one piece in a gallery, and all of you are the others.
poem by Alex Lewis
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I Want to Be Where the Palm Trees Are
I want to be where the palm trees are,
Upon some sunny and sandy beach,
I want to be away from it all-
Out of touch and out of reach.
I want to lose myself in the sea
Or rest upon some moss covered rocks,
To roam about-wild and free-
Away from the crowds, schedules and clocks.
I want a blank canvas to paint anew,
I want a blank page and a childlike mind
To sit on a hilltop with a scenic view,
To see the world to which I was blind.
May 30,2008
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Point Blank
Do you still say your prayers little darlin do you go to bed at night
Prayin that tomorrow, everything will be alright
But tommorows fall in number in number one by one
You wake up and youre dying you dont even know what from
Well they shot you point blank you been shot in the back
Baby point blank you been fooled this time little girl thats a fact
Right between the eyes baby, point blank right between the pretty lies that
They tell
Little girl you fell
You grew up where young girls they grow up fast
You took what you were handed and left behind what was asked
But what they asked baby wasnt right you didnt have to live that life,
I was gonna be your romeo you were gonna be my juliet
These days you dont wait on romeos you wait on that welfare check and on all the pretty things that you cant ever have and on all the promises
That always end up point blank, shot between the eyes
Point blank like little white lies you tell to ease the pain
Youre walkin in the sights, girl of point blank
And its one false move and baby the lights go out
Once I dreamed we were together again baby you and me
Back home in those old clubs the way we used to be
We were standin at the bar it was hard to hear
The band was playin loud and you were shoutin somethin in my ear
You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four
You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor
You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin slow
And as I pulled you tighter I swore Id never let you go
Well I saw you last night down on the avenue
Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you
You were standin in the doorway out of the rain
You didnt answer when I called out your name
You just turned, and then you looked away like just another stranger waitin to get blown away
Point blank, right between the eyes
Point blank, right between the pretty lies you fell
Point blank, shot right through the heart
Yea point blank, youve been twisted up till youve become just another part of it
Point blank, youre walkin in the sights
Point blank, livin one false move just one false move away
Point blank, they caught you in their sights
Point blank, did you forget how to love, girl, did you forget how to fight.
Point blank they must have shot you in the head
Cause point blank, bang bang baby youre dead.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am All That I Could Be
I am all that I could be,
My future self resides in me.
That so much I know,
Yet for knowledge there is no cure
Perhaps best left to blank space pure.
Blank canvas, memory whitewash,
No face.
Rise ash into flame,
From born another name
And I’m sinking here
In the darkness that we call fear,
Into the shadow land,
Into another’s hand,
Possession is ensured.
Of life I am but cured,
Dying of life and new,
All blues I thought I swam,
All thoughts I thought I knew,
But never did I know,
Never did I show you the way you made me feel,
One more kiss and I’ll be real.
So serpent goddess, needle young,
Glistening lips and fork love tongue,
We are old who once were young,
We are strung our stories sung.
I am all that I could be.
poem by David Lacey
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Blank Page
Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.
Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.
Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.
Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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The canvas
The canvas
~
This blank canvas before me
Laid out in pristine white
Where only the illusion of lines
Break the unparalleled possibility
Dare I take my pen to it
To scare forever its page
To pen the impossible thought
In verse and breath captivated
That only the mention of a word
Touches the heart and soul of man
Painted into eternity
Upon the canvas stained
No longer innocent, pristine
But touched by the mind
Whose eyes looked upon
A world as they chose to see it
poem by Matthew Holloway
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If I Were A Painting
If I were a painting
Captured on canvas
Alone in the portriat I would stand
And brush strokes bold
Yet soft as a whisper
The work of a feminine hand.
Caught in a still life
Surrounded by shadows
And lost in a background of blue
If I were a painting
My price would be pain
And the artist would have to be you.
I imagine the colors
Would all run together
If you ever allowed me to cry
So don't paint the tears
Just let me remember me
Without you in my eyes.
It's only the frame
That holds me together
Or else I would be falling apart
If I were a painting
I wouldn't feel
And you wouldnt be breaking my heart...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canvas
I painted all my life...
just to be praised by the world.
Till you came - like the heat of the flame,
you stayed with me to hold.
My brush had a little more strength,
when i saw your heavenly smile.
Oh, how i wanted to steal those moments away...
and paint them all for awhile.
My heart had a little more art...
when I saw your gracious curves.
Oh, how i wanted to immortalize your eyes,
that speaks to me like a dove.
But the world still kept his praises away...
till i almost gave it up.
But then you gave me courage
and you always filled me up.
And then the world took you away from me-
till my soul has slowly died.
I stole your memories away...
and painted you by night.
Oh, how your eyes reflect the things
I never saw before.
How I can see my very soul
just by looking there for more.
Oh, how your smiles revived my heart...
but filled my heart with tears;
How perfect they were on my canvas,
how they hideth all my fears.
And then the world gave me the praise
I wanted so before...
He gave to me my past prayers
just after he took you so.
If I could only tell the world
how mean he was to me...
and curse the stars, and curse the moons...
and heavens constantly.
I felt like painting all my life
just to end up painting you.
Giving you life on my canvas...
stealing you from death by my brush.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Blank Pages
Blank pages
Blank books
Lie with only drowning white
No pretty messages in the sand
No clocks to turn a hand
Blank pages
Blank books
Looking into an empty void
Like staring at purgatory
Words with no meaning making up a story
Blank pages
Blank books
Stay staring at the celing
Empty without effort
Nothing without words
poem by Autumn Winds
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The Canvas (Part 2)
We last left off with such the fright,
She paints—but gasp! —that's not quite right,
For every story has a twist,
And every painting is done on her wrist.
She paints with—sorry? —with little regard,
To what may bleed and what may scar,
But oh, she paints a lovely spar,
Despite the way that most things are.
Some find it funny and watch as she flees,
Others feel sick the moment they see,
Because a painter, she can't have much of a life,
If all of her painting is done with a knife.
This painter—in fact—she thinks she's alone,
Because of the burden of problems at home,
And then there's her mind, a nasty old place,
It's mostly the cause of the paintings she makes.
But one can be trapped, or one can be freed,
Though most painters like her find this hard to believe,
Yet this very painter broke free of her sadness,
And if she ever wonders 'why? ' she can look at her canvas.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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I was blown away by being able to color. Then I started to draw... bringing a blank white canvas to life was fascinating.
quote by James De La Vega
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Canvas
Before my eyes brilliant colour, perfection
Dancing gracefully in every direction,
The world of trees, the art of nature
Are simple reasons for a painter.
The power mother nature can release
Could make a painting, a masterpiece
A gallery of natures finest hues,
Enough to stir the most reluctant muse.
Should mother nature tutor me in art
My tree would show a living beating heart,
And should I save one single living tree
My canvas would inspire the world to see.
Red, orange, yellow, green and brown
Colours of beauty my brush would put down
Bright and vibrant Maple Red and Golden Oak
Living, breathing felt with every brush stroke..
©2011
poem by Hazel Connelly
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Blank Canvas
I often think the artist
Needs a vast blank canvas
I often feel the poet songs
Arise out of pure emotion
Loneliness, emptiness…
A void to be filled, transgressed.
But, what does it all say…?
On a personal, level
Anyway, about ink or oil…
Are their horizons, just?
Just as barren …as desert soil?
Hell no! Beauty is translucent.
'To a point…
But what could be more real'?
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Movie of the year
Title: Birth of a poem
Director: Framarz Bagheri
Players: A blank paper, a black pen
and an autumn eyed girl!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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