Related quotes: Complete artist crazed benediction perfected...

Art Encompassed Ablazed Passions

Complete artist crazed benediction perfected
must encompassed be prophetic impassioned poet.
Diverse streams personify divine creativity
poetry effected obtains full unfettered expression.
An illuminated ardent ephemeral soul chisels
holy canvas tormented stupendous ablazed passions.

To understand portray pour visionary dynamic words
upon oily water’s perpetual colourless beggary.
Art transforms lack-lustre drab insipid normality
into a cathedral exemplifying expanding universe.
Heartbreak into heartfelt refined tempera translations
easels in search of sensational esoteric staccato pictures.

Transcribed life a miraculous varicoloured sunrise,
dashed hopes a storm ruined resonant corn-field patina frost.
Boundary line earthquake lacerated filigree fragments.
Blood pulsating interprets convulsive emotive rainbow.

Masterpieces dedicated to intense artists. Who have known
great suffering, endured true hardship, innermost anguish.
Yet never exploited, sold, sacred noble entrusted birthright.
Potentialities imaginative beauty enlightening an innocent soul.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Art Encompassed Interactive Across Centuries

Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.
Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.
Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed artistic paint tempera
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.

Art encompassed interactive
across centuries hung upon
beating hearts pumping forth
liquid fire of creative energies.

Is an art principled with agony
passions etched into canvas of
pulsating vibrations brushstrokes
of demented inspirations applied.

An art blazing interactive emotions
fusion mind eye merge erupting inter
-dimensional thermonuclear firing
of neurons in vortex electrified brain

cells atomized star bursts equates to
echo of cosmic rapture personified.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Art Encompassed: Renaissance Modern Rejecting Earlier Ideals

Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.

Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.

Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed artistic paint tempera
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.

Artistic expression must
embody spirit of the age
embryo emerging art styles
conflicted emotions society

in catalytic transformation
rendered in boiling conflict
brain cells assaulted blasted
fired into new fried pathways

genius is new vision expression
metaphor cast forth in bold strokes
capturing whirling images present
flashing upon retina inner eye perceives

kaleidoscopic elements shift red line
into endless variant emerging patterns
constantly shifting turning upon genius
perception mesmerized by variant vision

chemistry physics transmutes energized atoms
blazing into quantum physics string theories
event horizons express new window dimensions
follow visionary artists into new perceptions

forgers follow lapping spinning crumbs left vibrant
copy works revolutionary mind inscribed defined
producing copies exquisite canvas shaped echoes
cementing unglazed supernova as mass commonality

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Washed Away Under Work Loads

artists feel frustrated
when achieving not
when producing art not
not realizing images
in shifting vision mind

artists should
be producing art
no time for cooking
no time for cleaning
no time for hair cut

artists should not
not be able to keep up
with fermenting ideas
rain weather changes
haunting wake up calls

not creating art
is wasting artistic souls
is wasting artistic lives
in dry season droughts
withering artistic minds

work income human activities
life necessity farming for wages
dependent on salary climates
fifty sixty wage slave hours
is change devastating for artists

this drought no time for artistic activities
is crop failure starvation of artistic minds
leading to artistic suffering on massive scales
droughts are caused by lack of fertility rains
extended over long periods of wage slave times

slight brief rains slight artistic showers
is normality artistic not enough spring rains
to ground absorb artistic evaporated minds
artist is dehydrated lacking soul rejuvenations
plants animals need sustaining life waters

artists need self generated creativity waters
least art dies death of artistic dehydrations
art is main ingredient in artistic food chains
plants die from lack of water therefore animals
eating these plants will also die in drought cycles

artists true artists deprived of art wither drought dies
in mind soul lacking artistic flowering rejuvenations
without art creativity cycle fades away dies out expires
artists hail festivals sing dance to music in craft minds
artist restoring balance in self social harmony in societies?

artists feel frustrated
when not
producing art
not realizing images
in vision mind

poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Moments Harmonic Creativity

hope to write

beautiful
meaningful
poems painted

into vibrant
neurons emotive
mysteries life

we vision friends
shall remain friends
when we need images

of creative art
to lift low ebb soul
we shall walk

through landscapes
of living paintings
enjoying familiar

to surprising scenes
which artistically
please sensory minds

delight
imaginative
symmetry

appreciation
in creation soul
paint not merely

for a moment
of harmonic
creativity

paint for all hearts
souls rise uplifted
in arms breath art

Dedicated to the painter poet Hosney Soliman.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poetry of Art or Art of Poetry?

Which came first-poetry or art?
Which of these two is my favorite part?
Poetry speaks to the heart and soul
Through vocalization of written word,
While art molds and shapes formation
Of heart and soul once the poetic art
Of words moves to the shape the heart
Feels inspires visualization and creation
Of such dramatic, deep impact as art
Makes responsive to the poetry that
Inspires it.
Does poetry not speak of art and
Art of poetry?
Each of these takes the form
Of a smiling simile.
Art is the extension of visual beauty,
Words unspoken
As extensively connected as the
Heartfelt extension indepth beauty
Stimulates out of spoken words
Poetry admires and inspires
Deep down in the soul.
Art reflects poetic expression
Poetry visualizes mentally
While are visualizes physically-
Both of which visualize emotionally
When mutually expressed and impressed
Upon each other to create the beauty
That first created it.

poem by Bill Darrah
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True Poetry in Limelight

True poetry is filled with;
true inspiration,
true expression,
true composition,
true fun,
true-maturity,
true wisdom,
and true spirituality.

True poetry; deeply translate its true expression to the readers,
providing an unusual mutual extension which connects and familiarize its profuse massages to the reader.

True poetry has great powers of profundity
and unadulterated knowledge.

I keep hearing the saying; ‘plenty poetry lay in the graveyards'
but I don't give into that, because;
true poetry is like a moving destiny, its never lost or buried away.

No matter how beautifully engraved the grave is;
it must surely resurrect and be discovered in another creative beloved beholder.

True poetry never rest in tombs,
that's why it continuously itch thumbs and tongues until it is spoken or wittingly actualized.

True poetry, never frustrates a reader,
It's an excise which lustrates the brain and feelings.

Even if a poetry tries to depict political damnation, poverty, heartbreak, dearth/death, illness, or hunger,
it should always portray wondrous lesson or a revival mission.

True poetry makes you everything you want to be.

you can surely write your life the way you want it to be,
because your destiny is in your true poetry.

poem by King Femi Oloidi
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Creative Perceptions

Artist appropriate palette prepares
as poet intuitive channels and shares -
perceptions highlighted in paint or in rhyme,
on screen, paper, canvas, [b]rushed, touched outside Time.
Each reaches out writing, foresighting, prepares
stalls [f]rigid for music of spirit sublime.
But few can interpret the talent they praise
in the style of an artist in true paraphrase.

(24 September 2005 robi03_1306)

Bridgework
Artists palette, paints, prepare,
poets channel insight rare.
One canvas fills, one paper inks,
imagination interlinks.

Each respective stream compares
perceptions, self-respecting, thinks
perspectives sensitively, shares
intuitive fruition, links
symphonic patterns, well aware
individuals everywhere
sense beauty way beyond time's brink -
horizons widen, never shrink.

Images accompany
free originality.

(7 May 2008 variant of As Artist, Poet robi03_1396_robi03_0986 16 February 2002 robi03_0986 and also variant of Creative Perceptions
24 September 2005 robi03_1306_robi03_0986)

As Artist, Poet
As artists palette, paints, prepare
so poets channel insight rare.
One canvas fills, one paper inks,
the foremost and the least of links.

Both tune respective streams, compare
perspective, sensitively share
where, true to self there neither sinks
as each through intuitions thinks
the way to harmony, aware
that perfect strangers anywhere
may beauty sense beyond time's brink -
horizons widen, never shrink.

Both pictures form, accompany
creative thrust with spirit free.

(16 February 2002 robi03_0986)

for previous version see below
As Artist, Poet
As artists palette, paints, prepare
so poets insight channel, air: -
one canvas fills, one paper inks,
the foremost and the least of links.
Both tune respective streams with rare
sensitive perspective, care.
When true to self then neither sinks
as each through intuitions thinks
the way to harmony, to share
with perfect strangers anywhere
how beauty may beyond the brink
horizons widen, never shrink.
Both pictures form, accompany
creative thrust with spirit free...

(16 February 2002)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Evolutionary Poet

Forgive this poet, to suppose
Poetry to be more than prose
Think me not romantic fool
Nor subject of thy ridicule

I seek transition, mind to heart
The place where truth resides
There’s much wisdom to impart
From ones soul 'n inner guides

Social conscience good poet be
A voice, within vast sea of voices
Impassioned words with cogency
Words diverse, as man’s choices

Great change implores poets unite
Too bravely flame of truth ignite

ROTMS

poem by Ray Lucero
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The First Artist and Author.

The first artist painted the sky with colors, such beauty,

Look at those sunsets, and the mountains, such reality;

The mountains, have shadows, of splendor that only the Master can do,

Yes! It's God who was the first Artist, and He also taught me too.

The first great artist painted the colors on the sea,

Blues, greens, aquas, Only one could do this you see;

And when there is a storm near, the sea goes so dark blue,

Yes! God is the first great artist, to paint it for me and you.

The first great Artist, loved to teach David to write poetry,

And also king Solomon, writing words of such beauty;

Oh such magnificent works, of color and in each word,

Yes! There is only one who could do this it is the Lord.

Then. We see in every rainbow, and in each shell as well,

Look at the colored sands, and in every bird, it does tell;

Then look at each animal, and also the petals of each flower too

Then as you look at these, , give Thanks for doing it for me and you.

poem by Margaret Haig
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Sonnet: On Good Poetry

The cause if noble, needs an effort great;
If nobler still, the struggle must be more;
If willed by God, unaltered 'tis by Fate;
Yes, Poetry has Life, its soul as core;

True Poetry is written from one's heart;
Its glory and beauty is forever;
Without a doubt, it involves effort, art;
Profound's the joy, evoked in each reader.

Good Poetry's a river flowing ev'r;
The Poet's mark is writ, 'etched', on its face;
Time cannot steal its beauty, value, pow'r;
It grows in fact, in height and girth and base.

Good Poetry's a sacrifice too great,
To God and Earthlings that can ne'er abate.

poem by John Celes
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Value Fever Pitch: An Artist’s Time

Bhoman F Jamhari said

'I am an artist - This does not
mean I will work for free.
I have bills just like you.
Thank you for understanding.'

Polite and to the problematic point.

Anyone who thinks believes
an artist’s time is worthless,
is definitely a person an artist
should avoid; such individuals

cannot comprehend
or remotely understand
aesthetic value of art.

Art takes time to produce.

Vision and artistic skill takes
even longer to realize to attain
expanding horizons. Time costs.

Artists of differing genre value
appreciate each other and art
which suits their temperament.

To create art
is the life blood
of an artist.

The air we breathe
is the home of art.

Creativity is our fevered mind songs
we sing in a legacy of image visions.

What kind of a con artist wants
to steal bread from an artist’s mouth;

therefore limiting the quality quantity
of future works of art, to be produced
by that artist. Answer an enemy of art.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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What Price Golgotha?

seer eyes burn with
prophetic words read
vision words sweep
forth in sleep soul fed

dream spaces echo
divine fountain head
heart surges witnesses
flowing images bled

blood of all spilled human
suffering fills vast lake red
blood cries out from ground
to God spoken testament said

murder of Christ at Golgotha each
shed droplet screams at deathbed
judge this sacrifice this moment
against each soul resurrect all dead

judgement judgement screams
all blood spilt where murder lead
all sin all crime all evil is judged
against all guilty soul’s in dread

those born again in Christ have sin
washed clean with Christ are wed
their name is written in sacred book
of life angelic marked upon forehead

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poetry and Poet

Poetry is poet's inner world,
Churnings of Self in distinct words;
Poetry is not black and white,
Grey, nuances of diverse hues
In kaleidoscopic word-networks
That capture all formless clouds
In the deep sky of the poet's world.

Poetry is poet's outer world,
His expressions in proper norms;
Bare thoughts, his rogue fights within
Dressed well for the popular nod;
Poet's world, a messy snake-pit,
A burrow of rats, snakes, insects,
Fighting to spring in riotous words,
Filter'd for world in elegant words.

Poetry is never a judgement,
Sheer whispers from heart to heart
Beyond what words do transport;
Words in lilt and dance, poetry,
Links they bond, cadence they ring,
Makes a poetry, a true poetry,
A mirror of poet's inner turmoils,
His hopes and strengths in right words,
Indecisions he suffer, his deeper Self.

Poetry is release from inner cauldron,
Steams from within in guise of words,
Quiet flames of the inner hearth
That flared for long finding a vent;
Poetry, a relief, a joy of sharing,
Sharing the Self with the world outside,
Back to the source from where all came;
Poet is the priest, poetry, his hymns,
Offered to the world for peace and grace.

Poetry sprouts from the morass of soul
And grows out of poet like pipal tree
And outstays him;
Fleeting is poet, but not his poems,
Poetry is the poet universalised;
It sucks his thoughts, sucks his force,
Spreads outwards to enrich the world
And leaves the poet richer and strong
Like fire and good deeds always are,
How much you share, so richer you are.

poem by Praveen Kumar
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O, poetry, refined, divine [Frumoasă sfântă poezie]

O, poetry, refined, divine,
Which were my God, my only goal,
Your pleasurable vain design
How much was cherished by my soul!

When I grew up like any child
You were my idol from the start,
I was dynamic, I was wild,
And I adored your subtle art.

Then, for my piety was deep
And your myth wanted to pursue,
Although you were so vain and cheap
I sacrificed my soul to you.

poem by Veronica Micle, translated by Octavian Cocoş
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When is a Painting Finished?

I paint.
On my easel
pictures in oil and acrylic grow
like stalagmites in limestone caves.

I think that painting is a magical act
that transforms invisible thoughts
and feelings into visible colors
and forms.

But I never can tell
when is the work finished.
After all it is always possible
to change a line, a hue, or a color
or even the whole composition.

Painters have different opinions
about this.

Some say that when the artist
successfully planted
all the details onto the canvas
the image expresses itself
as a severed autonomous entity,
which frees the painter from
the task of continuing to paint.
From then on the painting gains
an independent inner life of its own.

However, abandoning a work of art
involves a moral decision
ripened by the stiffening tension
between skill, creativity and integrity.
At what point does the polished image
meet the artist’s expectations?

And then, even if it does,
no single image can express
all that an artist wants to show,
and consequently his muses
compel him to carry on with his work
and create more paintings.

Hence the oeuvre of the artist
evolves as a set of different images
of the same single thrust and grind.

Many years ago I was wandering
through the countryside
of southern France in Provence.
Once I stopped to look at the road
where the village met the meadow.

A sturdy artist stood there
in front of his easel
painting the landscape
with skilful brushstrokes
on a well-stretched canvas.

I stared for a while
at the burgeoning picture
and then asked him:
“How do you know
when is the composition complete? ”

He gave me a piercing glance.
“Well”, he said,
“if you take a hammer
and hit me on the head
I know that the painting is finished.”

poem by Paul Hartal
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Bestowers Of Transformative Vision

pathos suffering passion
ripe within bodily experience
pathos of culture artistic expression

artists the 'I give birth to'
shape shifters people creators
bestowers of transformative vision

sentence seen is life vibration alteration
passionate in artistic creation expression
enrichers of web strand seekers beholders

artists hung upon vision quests
artists hung upon life beat heart beats
artists hung upon eyes burning in soul flame

artists historical now you see them now you don’t

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Kindness Appropriate Radiant

kindness
is a beautiful concept
costing nothing
blessing multiples many

when kindness
is real expressing truth
a light expanding
nurturing shines creativity

kindness
warm forgiving sacred
a universal blessing
bestows unique beauty

Dedicated to the poet Stefanie Fontker.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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18 Definitions Of Poetry

1) Poetry is what is Beautiful in words –
2) Poetry is the deepest feeling words can tell
3) Poetry is the soul of each one of us
4) Poetry is the morning light after the longest night
5) Poetry is a dream of dreams in a world that needs dreams to be
beautiful
6) Poetry is the Search for God and the Love of God in all holy writing
7) Poetry is Reality itself when it is doing what it should
8) Poetry is you and me and all of us when we are kind to each other
9) Poetry is more than we can say or know- deeper than the deepest
silence and quieter also
10) Poetry is the place we go to in ourselves when we need to cry out loud
11) Poetry is Love words of love and the first spring of the young lovers first
song
12) Poetry is all we are when our minds are right and strong
13) Poetry is what saves us from all the other words
14) Poetry is what ceases to exist when Cruelty comes
15) Poetry is Love and Blessing and Kindness again
16) Poetry cuts through the icy sea within and sends chills down the spine
17) Poetry is what is recollected in tranquility but also tried and tossed in
tempest on the most difficult seas
18) Poetry is open to more than what it has been It is what others have not yet created and will so long as we are human and in search of the Sublime

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Only You

Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
We thank you, father in heaven
Who sings all young songs of love
Let us bow before the Messiah
Jesus, save us from the darkness of human hearts
Help us to understand the purpose of Your pain and suffering
Help us to see the beauty of the least of Thy creatures
Impart on us thy infinitely complex mercy
And limit the trespassers!
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Through the pain and anguish
Bring those who bear hate closer to Thy gentle creation
Reach out ,o Lord, in Thy holy mercy,
And catch this innocent young girl,
The loveliest of Thy peoples
She cried out in the long dark night of her soul
And we who love her on this earth
Can neither hear nor understand!
Only you, o God!
Only You can once again present to her
The warmth of a joyous life,
An innocent world,
A sunshine of laughter,
And the grace of Jesus Christ!
Only You!
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you
Only you
Only you
Only you, you, you, only you

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sere Beyond The Grave

Stirring passions
fermenting youth
pass in naked
outstripped night.
Age waits to creep
across a dim.
Less lit stage.
Beheld by feeble
flickering touches.

Thoughts may submerged bend.
With encroaching senility.
Or stretched sharpen focus.
Upon true envisaged reality.
People dry up broken dispirited
as bleached bone sun scorched.
Through withered weathered
lack lustre embittered effort.

Uninspired undeveloped
still unexplored depths.
Are ever an embrace unknown.
Ever waiting beseeching.
Like far flung fabled frontiers
where beasts in wilderness roam.

Lost behind heathen masks
from out vibrant primeval past.
Are creatures culturally bound
in ignorance’s traditional chains.
Deprived lacking education’s
adaptive innovative creativity reign.

People bound by lack lustre will
insatiably sit sip sup their full.
People dry up husk dispirited
through errant lack lustre effort.
Uninspired undeveloped unseen
is true potential radiant reflection.

People dry up weathered.
Despondent heart droops.
Deficient depleted dreams
vigour vaporizes vanishes.
If vigil is not sustained exhilarated
with vital active imagination forces.

Ardently pursued quests guard
intent passage through forged years.
The passions of fleeting youth
well may pass by navigated night.
Age inscribed insatiable indomitable
will pass all persons progressively by.

Till point denoting death.
Though all is not lost.
Thought is noble birthright.
Sear beyond the grave.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Art Encompassed Ablazed Passions

Related quotes

Art Encompassed Interactive Across Centuries

Art Encompassed: Renaissance Modern Rejecting Earlier Ideals

Washed Away Under Work Loads

A Moments Harmonic Creativity

Poetry of Art or Art of Poetry?

True Poetry in Limelight

Creative Perceptions

Evolutionary Poet

The First Artist and Author.

Sonnet: On Good Poetry

Value Fever Pitch: An Artist’s Time

What Price Golgotha?

Poetry and Poet

O, poetry, refined, divine [Frumoasă sfântă poezie]

When is a Painting Finished?

Bestowers Of Transformative Vision

Kindness Appropriate Radiant

18 Definitions Of Poetry

Only You

Sere Beyond The Grave

En.Citatepedia^®.ro