Related quotes: “Were you a painter? ”...

A Painter’s Eye For Detail

“Were you
a painter? ”
“How is it
you knew? ”

“Your hands eyes
do not betray you!
“It is the paint spots
splattered on each shoe! ”

“Your shoes are splattered hieroglyphics
an interesting history told in time paint! ”

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

The Sky Away 2. 0

Angels
Are just an image that makes you feel
So cut free
So easily lost
Angels
Splattered on the road
Looking up gracefully
They still love you
They always will
And the dream that you paint
Will live longer than you
But always in a different place
Live
Do what you want
Do what you can
To be more than just yourself
The sky
Is wildly amazing
Infinite compassion
Infinite absorption
The sky
Splattered overhead
May be your only friend
But can never hear you call
And the song that you sing
Will speak louder than you
But always in a different language
Live
Do what you want
Do what you can
To be more than just yoursel

song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sky Away

song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Paint Nothing

My wintertime came fast I gave you a drawing pad,
And then you told me,
You didn't like looking closely.
You don't like walking home,
You're not sure who you are,
And no-one knows about your scar.
But I told you to shut up once,
Because you're never there,
And you're too old to be scared.
Cause I've been in lots of these,
Bad, bad situations.
Paint nothing now.
Paint nothing now.
The summertime came fast you still had your drawing pad,
But you told me,
You couldn't see me correctly.
We don't like holding hands,
We don't like playing guitar,
And no-one knows about your scars.
But I've been in, lots of these,
Bad, bad situations.
And you never get out of this : Easily!
Cause I've been in lots of these,
Bad, bad situations.
Paint nothing now.
Paint nothing now.
Send me here send me there,
Repetitions in the air.
Send me here send me there,
Repetitions in the air

song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Landscape

Painter, painter paint a scene-
A dainty cottage on a mound,
In a forest beautiful.

Paint it white and ashen grey,
With a meadow surrounding,
Filled with grass, all green and mowed.

Paint arcading cedars few,
With a narrow winding road,
And hedges on either side.

Paint a teenager with bike,
Ready for a hiking trip,
In the forest adjacent.

Make the day dawn early when
Air is fresh and birds fly past,
In the search of early worms!

When the light shall fade by eve,
Let the eyes that pry within,
Sense the ghosts of beasts and men!

And an eerie silence fall,
Broken by weird shrieking sounds,
Shadow-play of setting sun!

Turning forest pitch-black till,
Bats and owls come out to look
For their prey, in dark profound!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nimmo

Since you remember Nimmo, and arrive
At such a false and florid and far drawn
Confusion of odd nonsense, I connive
No longer, though I may have led you on.

So much is told and heard and told again,
So many with his legend are engrossed,
That I, more sorry now than I was then,
May live on to be sorry for his ghost.

You knew him, and you must have known his eyes,—
How deep they were, and what a velvet light
Came out of them when anger or surprise,
Or laughter, or Francesca, made them bright.

No, you will not forget such eyes, I think,—
And you say nothing of them. Very well.
I wonder if all history’s worth a wink,
Sometimes, or if my tale be one to tell.

For they began to lose their velvet light;
Their fire grew dead without and small within;
And many of you deplored the needless fight
That somewhere in the dark there must have been.

All fights are needless, when they’re not our own,
But Nimmo and Francesca never fought.
Remember that; and when you are alone,
Remember me—and think what I have thought.

Now, mind you, I say nothing of what was,
Or never was, or could or could not be:
Bring not suspicion’s candle to the glass
That mirrors a friend’s face to memory.

Of what you see, see all,—but see no more;
For what I show you here will not be there.
The devil has had his way with paint before,
And he’s an artist,—and you needn’t stare.

There was a painter and he painted well:
He’d paint you Daniel in the lion’s den,
Beelzebub, Elaine, or William Tell.
I’m coming back to Nimmo’s eyes again.

The painter put the devil in those eyes,
Unless the devil did, and there he stayed;
And then the lady fled from paradise,
And there’s your fact. The lady was afraid.

She must have been afraid, or may have been,
Of evil in their velvet all the while;
But sure as I’m a sinner with a skin,
I’ll trust the man as long as he can smile.

I trust him who can smile and then may live
In my heart’s house, where Nimmo is today.
God knows if I have more than men forgive
To tell him; but I played, and I shall pay.

I knew him then, and if I know him yet,
I know in him, defeated and estranged,
The calm of men forbidden to forget
The calm of women who have loved and changed.

But there are ways that are beyond our ways,
Or he would not be calm and she be mute,
As one by one their lost and empty days
Pass without even the warmth of a dispute.

God help us all when women think they see;
God save us when they do. I’m fair; but though
I know him only as he looks to me,
I know him,—and I tell Francesca so.

And what of Nimmo? Little would you ask
Of him, could you but see him as I can,
At his bewildered and unfruitful task
Of being what he was born to be—a man.

Better forget that I said anything
Of what your tortured memory may disclose;
I know him, and your worst remembering
Would count as much as nothing, I suppose.

Meanwhile, I trust him; and I know his way
Of trusting me, and always in his youth.
I’m painting here a better man, you say,
Than I, the painter; and you say the truth.

poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My sister-in-law is a painter, and I'll say, how long did it take you to paint that painting. She'll say, It took me maybe three days, but it took me all my life to get the skills to paint that painting.

quote by Anthony Doerr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knowing what paint a painter uses or having an understanding of where he was in the history of where he came from doesn't hurt your appreciation of the painting.

quote by Jodie Foster
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Builder Has Finished Build Well

Builder has finished build well
Only the painter to paint good
Wish he paints bright and peace
Builder has finished build well

Who the builder? who the painter?
Light your search to find rather
Builder has finished build well
Only the painter to paint good

poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Painter (Ang Pintor)

The Painter...
He colored the sky
He colored the sea
and even the mountains
and the field.

The Painter...
He colored the roses
and even the birds
and animals
in the farm.

The Painter...
even my life...
He colored.

But the Painter,
I guess no one
have seen Him yet.

The Painter...
can anyone paint the colors
of His life?

poem by Marites C. Cayetano
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dream Images

if I painted pictures
I would paint dream images
I would paint visions of inner mind's eye
I would paint life in veils swirling kaleidoscopic moods
I would paint canvasses imprinting fabric expanding universes

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Life Is Like A Painting

Life is like a painter
Who paints a beautiful picture
Of a mother who showers her baby
Colors of water steadily
Flowing onto the child’s body
With his eyes wide open
Looking so vibrant
And hoping
He would not be drowned
By his mother

Only the painter
Could change all the factors
The mother let loose
And the baby goes dozing

Articulation of living perfectly
Events were created chromatically
Surpassing all anticipations
Exceeding all expectations
Blanketing all cloudy minds
To live with honor
Or to live with disgrace
In a life out of place

Exaggeration could be the word
But, as a painter
We paint our picture
The picture is premature
Success, failure and glory
Could be your history

Don’t call it quit
When you have succeeded
Look at the painting
The stroke of living
Is in your hands

poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Painter Song

If I were a painter
I would paint my reverie
If that's the only way for you to be with me

We'd be there together
Just like we used to be
Undertneath the swirling skies for all to see

And I'm dreaming of a place
Where I could see your face
And I think my brush would tak eme there
But only...

If I were a painter
And could paint a memory
I'd climb inside the swirling skies to be with you
I'd climb inside the skies to be with you

song performed by by Norah Jones from Come Away With Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Painter Passing Through

Once upon a time I was on my own
Once upon a time like youve never known
Once upon a time I would be impressed
Once upon a time my life would be obsessed
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history
Yesterday is gone, yesterdays alright
Yesterday belongs in my dreams at night
Yesterday is swell, yesterday is great
Yesterday is strong, remembering can wait
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know an answer I cant turn your life around
For I am just a painter passing through the underground
I was in my stride, always at my game
Here comes mister cool, along the walk of fame
I was in demand, always in control
The world was in my hands, my touch had turn to gold
Once upon a time, I was in a daze when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history
Now that I am old, let me rest a spell
All that I am told, I can never tell
Never in my life, never will it pass
I am still alone, remembering at last
Once upon a time, once upon a day when
I was in my prime, once along the way
If you want to know an answer I cant turn your life around
For I am just a painter passing through the underground
If you want to know my secret dont come runnin after me
For I am just a painter passing through in history

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Eyes

She know you bad
You don't sing songs of love
She treats you right, she treats you like a web of love
You know who's of the heart, her notions of societies
You belong to know and just like our sophiaties
[Chorus:]
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, to see what you want to see
Modern eyes
Modern eyes, she'll paint you with the modern eyes
What you look for in people is not hard to recognize
Black man, white man, short man
They're all the same in size
You breath the air, you feel the sea and the sand and the skies
When nighttime comes you blind men with modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]
She'll paint you with the hupskin on
She'll paint you with the fire in your eyes
She'll paint you with the modern eyes
[Repeat chorus]

song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diary of a Survivor

Paint me red
Don’t color my dreams
Paint me red and burry me

We haunted the roads like animals
And danced as the windows shattered
We counted the weapons, the breaths, the days
In the invisible hours, we’d lie down and pray

Paint me red and burry me
Blind fold me, so I cannot see

Your disillusioned eyes and wrecked soul
When you surrendered beneath the purple skies
I cannot see it
The hollow human spirit

Paint me red and burry me
Block my nose, so I cannot smell

The smoke, the fog and the haze
The gunpowder you always inhale
It creeps through the nooks, the cracks
Eliminating us insects, stalks over stalks

Paint me red and burry me
Burn my hands, so I cannot fix

The springs in your mattress
And the water in your kitchen
The ceiling leaks blood, your walls cry out loud
And your windows wave silently to those dead clouds

Paint me red and burry me
I am a fool, I cannot help thee
I am a fool, someone help thee.

poem by Kanza Javed
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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