It is the Muses
It is the Muses
who have caused me
to be honred: they
taught me their craft
Related quotes
The Muses
It is the Muses
who have caused me
to be honred: they
taught me their craft
Sappho
tr. Barnard
It taught me something. It taught you your craft.
quote by Billy Eckstine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A poets dream
Hippocrene (hĭ p'ə -kren‘) is a fountain on Mount Helicon, Greece, sacred to the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration.
Mnemosyne (nemoz'ini) is a titan who is the personification of remembrance. She is the mother of the nine muses: “All nine muses have a science or an art to protect. Cleo protects the stories of heroes, Urania astronomy, Calliope elegies, Melpomene the tragedies, Euterpe flute playing, Erato love poems, Tepsicore choir lyrics, Thalia the comedies and Polyhymnia dance and music.”
“The Muses love to sing and dance. They are superior in musical competitions and any one who dares to challenge them will always fall short, just as those who question their importance.”
In a dream I drink from fount Hippocrene.
The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
Encompass me while I quench. Nine muses
Guarding their arts from human abuses.
'I'm not here to challenge or to question;
Nor I seek material possessions.
My presence among you in this dreamy
State is caused by my love of poetry.
And you, Erato, muse of all love poems
I'm a sleepy poet asleep at home.
It's known by some you sing beautifully.
Would all you muses’ sing a song for me?
My thirst is quenched from draft of drinking cup.
Please! Please sing for me before I wake up.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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I Believe in Muses
Nine to the Universe, the Nine Divine
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to dream sublime
Empress Omega, Betty Shabazz, Nzinga all of the Queens
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to achieve impossible dreams
Your sepia back, so strong and beautiful as obsidian
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to search where truth is hidden
Thighs, eyes, hips and lips, I desire you body and soul
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to an orgasmic loss of self control
Your beauty has inspired men to create, to build, to rise
I believe in Muses, Inspire me to be a King in your eyes
poem by Vince Rogers
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The Craft Of Life
I tried to study it for just a while:
All of the potions, from oysters to seducing smiles.
But I've found it's already inside me:
A big round bubble of sensuality,
Dared to be burst,
But worried about getting hurt.
I know how you like to kiss.
I'll ask you what you're thinking.
Silvers in our dark hair.
The sheets are soaked by your tiny fish.
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
Oo-ooh...
Tears spring to mind when I go back in time.
All those lost bodies just seeking security.
Jittering strangers with smutting hands,
Heavy and clever and full of demands.
Well I'm similar to you:
We're familiar with what to do.
I know how you like to kiss.
I'll ask you what you're thinking.
Silvers in our dark hair.
The sheets are soaked by your tiny fish.
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
Oo-ooh...
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's About The Craft
It's about the craft.
And a consistency applied,
To prefect its presentation...
One who has no hesitation,
To sacrifice time.
Without a seeking for devices,
That provides an easy ride.
It's about the craft!
And those who are up to the task,
Need not to answer when asked...
What for them is thirsted first.
It's about the craft,
That has such a holding grasp...
No one can loosen to have it released.
'That's deep!
But what is it that has a hold on someone,
One knows and prefers to keep? '
A love for what it is,
One does.
With a seeking to reach greater heights.
'Wouldn't it be easier if you lowered your expectations? '
Who's craft is this?
You do...
As 'you' wish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pain Pain by cedrick dennis
Pain Pain over here pain over there Pain in my heart pain in my soul Pain in my mind Pain in my skin pain in my bones Pain being caused left and right Pain being caused till the heart bleeds red Pain being caused till the skin and bone rip Pain being caused till you break into tears Pain at school Pain at home Pain in my head, pain in my heart Pain in my mind, pain in my soul Pain happening in my sleep Pain happening in my thoughts Pain happening when I’m alone Pain happening in the shower, in my room, in my bed, in my house where I’m all alone Pain happening every hour, every minute, every second of my life Pain caused by anger and hate Pain caused by hurt Pain caused by greed Pain caused by sorrow and depression Pain caused by grief and confusion Pain caused by your family and friends Pain caused by the world Pain caused by people you love Pain driving me crazy Causing me to take pills till it fills up my veins I go to sleep never to wake up and see that light The light that will end my pain for good
poem by Cedrick Dennis
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Ancora
Good God! They say you are risqué,
O canzonetti!
We who went out into the four A. M. of the world
Composing our albas,
We who shook off our dew with the rabbits,
We who have seen even Artemis a-binding her sandals,
Have we ever heard the like?
O mountains of Hellas!!
Gather about me, O Muses!
When we sat upon the granite brink in Helicon
Clothed in the tattered sunlight,
Muses with delicate shins,
O Muses with delectable knee-joints,
When we splashed and were splashed with
The lucid Castalian spray,
Had we ever such an epithet cast upon us!!
poem by Ezra Pound
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Sleep Deprivasion(Kids of The Street)
Sleep deprivasion caused by hunger, hunger for food for a kid who hasn't eaten in days.
Sleep deprivasion caused by nature, filthy blankets wet from rains.
sleep deprivasion caused by nightmares, dreams of an alcoholic father and an abusive aunt, cause of my running away.
Sleep deprivasion caused by pains, sharp pains from my chest caused by the cough I'v had for 6 months.
Sleep deprivasion caused by fear, fear from being attacked and raped by the older boys. rulers of the streets.
Sleep deprivasion caused by memories, memories of a life I had before mom passed on.
Sleep deprivasion caused by reality, truth of never amounting to anything. untamed words said by my aunt.
sleep deprivasion. A killer for kids on the streets. our solution became glue.
poem by Obedia Nong
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Scherzo
When, as a boy, I went
To study in the Muses' school,
One of them came to me, and took
Me by the hand, and all that day,
She through the work-shop led me graciously,
The mysteries of the craft to see.
She guided me
Through every part,
And showed me all
The instruments of art,
And did their uses all rehearse,
In works alike of prose and verse.
I looked, and paused awhile,
Then asked: 'O Muse, where is the file?'
'The file is out of order, friend, and we
Now do without it,' answered she.
'But, to repair it, then, have you no care?'
'We _should_, indeed, but have no time to spare.'
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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I'm really proud to have been in The Craft. I will always be that chick from The Craft, no matter what I do.
quote by Robin Tunney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We were advised that nobody could stop us from pursuing our craft simply because we had honed, or even developed that craft while working at a company.
quote by David Crane
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You cannot limit yourself to one area of specialized craft. Instead, regardless of craft, you have to charge all forms of expression that lead to the community, to other people, with meaning.
quote by Alexander Kluge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gunface
Gonna go downtown
Gonna get my gun
Gonna dress real sharp
Gonna beat my drum
I ain't gonna lie
Gonna walk so slow
Gonna talk just right
And my diamond ring
Gonna shine so bright
I ain't gonna lie
I've got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
And I got my ears
And I got my eyes
And I got my narks
And my alibis
I won't waste your time
You made one false move
You made one mistake
When the juice is squeezed
That's the way it breaks
You'll pay for your crime
Your tongue lickin' way out of place
I'll rip it out
I'll stick a gun in your face
You'll pay with your life
I taught her everything I taught her how to dream
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to scream
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
And you cause me hurt
And you cause me pain
And you turned the tap
On my burning rage
And I can't put it out
Gonna leave no sign
Gonna leave no trace
Gonna leave this town
In a state of grace
Give me the power
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna lie
I put a gun in your face
You'll pay for the crime
I taught her everything
I taught her how to speak
I taught her all she knows
I taught her how to eat
I half invented her
And now she acts so chic
I taught her everything
But now she's obselete
I taught her everything
How to read and write
I taught her all she knows
She was a neophyte
I taught her everything
I loved to watch her grow
I taught her everything
And now I want to see her go
I taught her everything
I got a debt to repay
I ain't gonna cry
I'll put a gun in your face
You're playing with your life
I taught her everything
I taught her how to cheat
I taught her all she knows
She was so indiscreet
I taught her everything
I taught her how to lie
I taught her everything
I'm gonna teach her how to cry
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Bridges To Babylon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taught To Fear And Suffer
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught not born,
To give.
Taught not born,
To take.
Taught not born to be of benefit to others.
But many bigots interfere...
With an infliction of their insecurities,
That smother one another.
Some are taught they are better than most human beings.
With a stunting of their own growth,
In isolated dreams.
And then their are those who confront others,
With obvious legitimate needs.
Ultimately to suffer from these misdeeds.
Taught not born,
To hate.
Taught not born,
To fear.
Taught not born,
To discriminate.
And taught not born,
To jeer.
Taught to greed selfishly!
Taught to deceive and steal like thieves!
And taught to cheat to succeed...
No matter who does the suffering and bleeds.
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
Taught to fear and suffer.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Fear.
As a right,
To incite and ignite...
Suffering,
Inflicted.
As a right to incite and ignite,
Fear!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Instincts lead me
Winds sing; who taught them?
Rivers make paths; who taught them?
Infants cry; who taught them?
I learn other than what are taught.
What I learn other than what I was taught
Has led me to live where I live.
10.01.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Well, the odds must be against anybody being able to fly around the world in a balloon on the first attempt. All of us who are attempting to go around the world in balloons are effectively flying in experimental craft because these craft cannot be tested.
quote by Richard Branson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Faithful Poet To His Craft....
he is getting bald over
words
emaciated having forgotten
several meals
because he is faithful to
his craft
everyday he writes
more poems than he could
muster
for his heavenly muses
on paper the poems become
written
well sculpted with curves
and smooth finishes
he does not know whether
they are read somewhere
but he does not care
on nights when he finds himself
alone and abandoned
by fate
he makes a fire
at the center of his yard
puts all those paper poems
there
all burned
smokes like some forms of
ghosts
go to the night skies
to be with the countless stars
in the extreme cold
of silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I thought we would have at most an audience of 5,000 devotees because I made the decision to stick to craft, not to gossip, not to be interested in any of the juicy stuff that they talk about on other shows, but stick to the question of craft.
quote by James Lipton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Craft, Faith And Narrative
Craft, faith and narrative all fuse,
creating medieval art;
if you add the inspiration of the muse
you get the Bible. À la carte,
it serves you narratives and laws and psalms
created with both faith and craft,
but ultimately it’s the muses’ charms
that turn the inspiration’s draft
into a record of encounters made
with God by people searching for
a destiny that they cannot evade
by writing, their esprit de corps.
Its manuscript is not illum-
inated, since it comes from ages
that though dark became the wonderwomb
whose generations are its pages.
Roberta Smith writes about the renovation of the medieval galleries in the Metropolitan Museum (“Illuminating the Dark Ages, ” NYT, December 5,2008) :
Of the three great artistic histories that extend for many centuries, and galleries, from the Great Hall at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Byzantine-Medieval epic is the most discreet. The Egyptian and the Greek and Roman wings are signaled by highly visible statues and tombs that start waving hello almost before you clear security. In contrast, the story of art starting in Bronze-Age Europe lies mostly out of sight in galleries that lie beside and behind the Grand Staircase…. As part of the Met’s original, central structure, the new Medieval Art gallery has always been a heavily trafficked intersection. It shouldn’t really work as a gallery of sacred art and yet it does. Its many small objects draw you close, away from the bustle, into a realm where craft, faith and narrative were
© 2008 Gershon Hepner 12/5/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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