En.Citatepedia^®.ro

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!

poem by Robert William Service
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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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Am I a master

I am the master, master of art
have painted true pictures,
of rising sun, mountain, sea
through jungles flowing rivers,
shining stars, birds, cloudy sky,
can paint anything and everything.
insects, lions, bear and deer.
just like the living things.

I am the master, master of art,
can make my own paint and brush
Alas! but cannot create raw material
of any of paint, brush or canvas.
Oh! can not paint these seven
which are made only in heaven:
smell, touch, look, hear and taste,
emotions, thought and breathe.

No, I am not the master, master of art
can paint uncountable things yet not.
Not possible to paint love and laugh
I have to go again and again to learn
to the supreme master, who painted
the universe, stars, moon and sun

(C) S. D. Tiwari

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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You Only Paint The Picture Once

(Teddy Gentry/Randy Owen/Ronnie Rogers/Greg Fowler)
Look at those evening shadows
Casting a peaceful light
The sun is disappearing
It's a beautiful sight
Moments caught forever
By the master's touch
A lasting reminder
To us
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
Love is the canvas
That's where it all starts
A lifetime together
Becomes a work of art
Just look what's been created
Between your heart and mine
Oh I believe that we're one of a kind
You only paint the picture once
(And) you only get one chance
Take the time to do your best
While the brush is in your hand
Make sure it's just right
Before the colors dry
You can't change it once it's done
You only paint the picture once
It's a portrait of life
You can't live it twice
You only paint the picture once

song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Colour Of My Love

I'll paint my mood in shades of blue
Paint my soul to be with you
I'll sketch your lips in shaded tones
Draw your mouth to my own

I'll draw your arms around my waist
Then all doubt I shall erase
I'll paint the rain that softly lands on your wind-blown hair

I'll trace a hand to wipe out your tears
A look to calm your fears
A silhouette of dark and light
While we hold each other oh so tight

I'll paint a sun to warm your heart
Swearing that we'll never part
That's the colour of my love

I'll paint the truth
Show how I feel
Try to make you completely real
I'll use a brush so light and fine
To draw you close and make you mine

I'll paint the truth
Show how I feel
Try to make you completely real
I'll use a brush so light and fine
To draw you close and make you mine

I'll paint a sun to warm your heart
Swearing that we'll never part
That's the colour of my love

I'll draw the years all passing by
So much to learn so much to try

And with this ring our lives will start
Swearing that we'll never part
I offer what you cannot buy
Devoted love until we die

song performed by by Celine Dion from The Colour Of My Love
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With the smell of turpentine

With the smell of turpentine
and paint in front of the fireplace
you paint magical lines
with blue, green and gold
and I look at you
while brush strokes
like magic make abstract images appear.

The Creator must have looked like this
while He looked at the world
while building it
and I see your golden eyes
looking carefully at the painting
and at times you frown
while you try to draw perfect lines
and light and colour
create magical feelings
and flow into each other
and you build shade and depth.

Gasping for breath lovely are you
while your fingers play with the brush
and there are more than curves and lines
from which your beauty comes.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Paint

Don't paint me red,
Red is for bold women that use cheap scent

Don't paint me blue
Blue is for sadness and regret

Don't paint me green
Green is for envy and not to be seen

Don't paint me black
black is for the night and I love the light

Don't paint me white
White is for virgins and me, I love a flirtin'

Don't paint me orange
Orange is vile and I have some style

Don't paint me brown or grey or cream
these colours are boring and really not me.

Paint me in silver, platinum or gold
so I remain precious as I grow old.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Paint body art beautiful

her majesty the hand
with nail graffiti polish
pain in henna red
paint in henna black
paint paint my heart

paint body art faithful
faithful to the strokes
paint in strokes divine
paint in strokes of red
paint in strokes of black
paint paint my heart

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The Signboard

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 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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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O My Jaan

O my Jaan now let's have fun
With my body's machine gun
I will kill your mind's Satan

With my body's powerful pen
I want to write a love poem
You will forget all other men

With my body's an injection
I can cure your love-diseases
Please let me do it off and on

My kisses are like paint and brush
I want to paint my love with it
So let me paint, baby please hush

My eyes are like sky's black hole
Baby, please stare at my eyes
You will reach your wanted goal

poem by Asif Andalib
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Sunlight on white paint. For the New Year.

The house across the way is newly painted white.
Right now, that’s all my being seems to need:

this winter morning, sharp, cold, bright and clear,
the morning sunlight pours across white paint;

contains a thousand messages, in me
interpreted.. or simply left to be..

this moment, that’s as much as being craves:
this morning’s glory; and I, born for praise..

even as I write, I watch the sun’s
white paint brush move across the house’s front

and tell the eye of reason that this world
is turning, basking, in this morning sun;

already sparkling on the Bondi waves
as if the world had just been washed anew;

cast early dawn’s pearl light on Taj Mahal
as if the sun itself could never tire of beauty;

Italian villa forecourts just hosed down,
the air all fresh to meet the warming day;

the gardens of Carmel, eight hours from now,
will paint their flowers fresh with mist and dew;

as every carefree holiday yourself
recall, as proof eternal of pure soul..

and here - the witness of my silent mind
needs nothing, need go nowhere else to find
its very self, this moment without taint:
immortal sunlight shining on white paint.

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Paint Brush

We forget
We’re humans in disguise
We lust for angels
We lust for demons
We cannot exorcise the human inside.

We paint a layer of lies
No water can wash it off
Human doesn’t let paint spread
In the end humans peel paint off.

Some are left buried
With paint left unpeeled
The paint dries away
But human never dehydrates.

We may paint on thorns,
But flowers we remain inside.

poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
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Painted Smile

Paint a smile on my face
Try to hide the pain
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart is full of shame

Paint a smile on my face
Try to forget the lies
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart is filled with pain

Paint a smile on my face
Try to forget I'm alone
The smile never meets my eyes
My heart begins to break

I feel a tender touch upon
The smile painted on
He wipes the smile off my face
Tells my heart to not be fake

He replaces the paint with a smile so true
I know I can't be alone
He takes the pain out of my heart
And fills me up again

For My God

poem by Lacey UnKnown
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I paint on a sky

The dawn is breaking its early morn
Here, I m standing on a promise
of a brand new day
for new morning comes.
for the early morning smile,
So then, I paint on a sky.
Your eyes that shine like a golden sun.

I sense the morning glory.
Those cherry blossoms
That I paint on my mind.
As I heard the morning breeze,
That plays inside of me.
The notes and melodies
Were I paint on a sky

Over there beneath the silence
I watched the sea that dance on a wave,
And then I draw a line on sand
A line that connects my soul on wind
There I can dance to the music of my own
There I can paint on a sky.
Every step that I have been through.

I belong to the wind.
To fly higher than the mountain
Fly as free as the bird.
Then, I paint on a sky.
These dreams inside my mind,
These hope that I have been holding on
These love that last for more than time.

I walked on a bridge of the rainbow
I’ll be the sun in the sky.
I’ll be the light in all time
I’ll put back the blue in the sky
And learn to see the beauty that is waiting for
So then, I paint on a sky
All the happiness that brings back in my heart.

poem by Cheryl Aldea
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Sonnet: Whither Thy Art, Man?

Yes, men and women, paint their eyelashes,
And dye their hair in hues and paint their nails;
And wear head-bands, multi-colored sashes,
And paint the tortoises and shells of snails.

Some paint their bodies fully or one-half;
Some paint their country’s flag over their face;
Some look like leopards, lions, clowns that laugh;
Some tattoo pictures or paint words so base.

Some paint their naked bodies as if dressed
Or apply stickers of men, Gods or beast;
Their art on human skins looks to them best
And dance in ritual for a sumptuous feast.

The art of man has gone so crazy now,
For men paint Dogs, cats, cattle, also cow.

poem by John Celes
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Inspiration

let the brush begin
let the strokes be gentle
but let all these be
definite with a sense of
a mission
a purpose

paint me oranges
like suns
green patches of
grass
like peace
paint me the blueness
of the seven seas
let these be not as dark
as the night
let there be openings
like doors and
windows
so i can breathe

let me live
like i was once so alive
let me go through all these gently
like the fluttering wings
of a sky blue butterfly

you are my flower
scented with morning lemon
let me
on such a short moment
bloom
and then
even for a day
just a day
wilt with you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The Night Time

Paint it black and paint it red,
And like a nice flow with your brush;
But use it at the night time like,
An Australian in bed!

Genetic information,
Positive or negative is considered by a person's character!
But your choices can affect your life, your family and your community;
And like a cat out of the sack.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Night workers..

Night is frozen and full of dust,
Nocturnal creatures are out on lust,
Trainee painters colored the earth,
Using the shades of grey at the brush,
A few take the paint in the bucket,
Splatter the darker grey on the forest,
They think to color the rivers of blue,
Adding the grey to the blue, make it dark,
How hard they paint the civilization black,
The lights of men make it bright,
Bored of painting on the roads,
back alleys are pained with what they have,
Forgotten the painting of the sea,
They throw their balance paint and brush into it,
Before they finish the job and get paid,
The cleaner of the earth arrives from the Vacuum,
Sucked in all the dust from the horizon,
The perfectly visible earth emerges,
After the thawing of its all nightly desires.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Paint

Pick out a color
pick out a brush
don't forget the roller
don't be in a rush

Your spectrum of colors, may scream loudly
just don't let it be drab
brighten your room and your life
your office, perhaps, even a meth lab

Remember the dropp cloth
wear grungy clothes
you need to patch the wall with spackle
cover all the holes

Sand them lightly
then prepare to paint
grab that java
florescent orange
Oh, hell no!
don't faint

Paint it pink
one color of LOVE, perhaps
just plain white
the beauty of a dove

poem by Matt Mondschein
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