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Artistic Minds Eye Licks Ephemeral Lives

word paintings chalk colour canvas
many seen portraits landscapes themes
sketch line hues shapes faint etchings
envisage whole salient gift split images

whale songs echo cross world oceans
minds eye licks pulse ephemeral lives
dive depths plunge wet living life waters
currents ocean waves seal mirror horizons

poem by Terence George Craddock
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We Sing Our Love In Life Worships

'hope always to write more
not to be a good poet'

the words of my friend
Hosny Soliman defined
my thoughts perfectly

to write just a little more
to gift just a little more
to give just a little more

with no thought wasted
upon desire to write
a good poem a great poem

poetic thoughts passed
through me part of mind
song whale song sung

through huge oceans
throughout this world
through water world

oceans are like God’s tears
cried through love of us
love creations slaughtered

as you hunt us down kill us
delight in seas red harvest blood
feast upon our sacrifice flesh

until then we sing mind songs
in love life swimming oceans
in light near surface or darkness

found in pressure ocean depths
all is same one in love life waters
we sing our love in life worships

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Mind Song Whale Song Sung

poetic thoughts passed
through me part of mind
song whale song sung

through huge oceans
throughout this world
through water world

oceans are like God’s tears
cried through love of us
love creations slaughtered

as you hunt us down kill us
delight in seas red harvest blood
feast upon our sacrifice flesh

until then we sing mind songs
in love life swimming oceans
in light near surface or darkness

found in pressure ocean depths
all is same one in love life waters
we sing our love in life worships

Splitting image from the poem ‘We Sing Our Love In Life Worships’ by Terence George Craddock.
Dedicated to the painter poet Hosney Soliman.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Threads Of Passion

You ignite Northern Lights in my universe
Like a gift from the goddess Aurora
With you I float in cool azure oceans
Aware of the darkness in the depths below

You are sailing on still waters waiting
Anticipating the storms from the horizon
With thorns of sea cucumbers invading
I inflict puncture wounds seeping surrender

You help me float out into the distance
Waiting with hourglasses for my arrival
With the white foam of breaking waves
I create fluffy dream clouds of aspiration

You set the sea surf by my heartbeat
Letting the tide surround me with silence
Out of reefs I built fragile castles on sand
That are later destroyed by infinite currents

Smiling I push the muddy water of rivers
Defrauding you - I seize your breathing
My salty tears mingle with green seas
That carry you away to another coast

You swim with lethal blue-ringed octopus
While I am drowning in sea grass and algae
Together we crash against rocky shores
And dive from icebergs into warm oceans

You are watching me through dark shades
With dark eyes that hide your emotions
Like in black waters I see the moon reflecting
Is it me or is it you that needs protecting

poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Depths Of Life Mystery Deep

Buller River birth
in high mountain crags
born in Southern Alps
wild West Coast
New Zealand in youth
mine flowing into
eternal depths mine
soul flows to distant seas

so many superimposed images
within water dominant theme
mine flowing river is life like life
with horizons diverse distant
mystical or geometrical merging
horizon sky on reflection waters...

depths of life, mystery as deep as
changing riverbed pull to ocean
life as surface realities, far shores,
waves which rock or embrace to
reassure, or test determination of
mind limb endurance exploration...

life vessels are often filled with only
choice cargo which is conscious sought
trace elements imbue air earth water
the realm of earth or water we may dive
through physically, accept in experience
or meditation, test embodied in storm swim...

or manipulate as technological control
harnessed, exploited; abused or converted
to new levels of balance or shift concepts
of research usage, all of which may have
unexpected outcomes in transformation
transformation is manifest, seasonal or life

shattering, but always life renewal seeks
warmth of earth bird bright flight dreams
after darkness passes comes life new days,
new experiences, time which pass passage
weathers changes all things, but in flow time
streams of elemental diversity dissimilar...

a poet engaging soul images in spirit journeys
of mind concepts; continue the journey; feel
the earth, air, wind, water, warmth pulse light

poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Kinder Eye

In his widowed years of longing, in his windowed room of light
He lay the oil upon the canvas, brought sweet memory to life
His speckled beard a brush of colour, his spotted hands both grace and speed
I was the boy who came with evening, to sweep his floors and bring his tea
To the world he was the master, his landscapes filled the gallery halls
But now he painted only portraits, unframed upon his private walls
Subjects sitting-walking-laughing in playful flight or soft refrain
A thousand forms and colours, but every face the same
Across the page (across the ages) the moving hand of history bleeds
... for a kinder eye to see us, not as we are, but as we dream
A winters night when I arrived there, he looked so tired and near the end
And as I cleaned his bench and brushes, I wished out loud to be like him
He said that art was only longing, trying to do what cant be done
And though hed signed a thousand paintings, still hed never finished one
As I finished up my sweeping, in his sleep he spoke her name
I looked again at all the portraits, each and every face the same
Not as she was in pain or sorrow, but in timeless beauty seen
As she served his noble dream
Across the page (across the ages) the moving hand of history bleeds
... for a kinder eye to see us, not as we are, but as we dream

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ocean

Oh! Deep Wide Ocean
You fill my black eyes in blue
Oh! little waves who drive you
touching the shores beautifully fall back into
and confluence in you!

Big whales and little golden fishes
swim and sweep in you merrily
and I am on shore with endless joy
jump dance and sing
the friendly dophin unbelievable with humour
so high they jump and plunge in you!

How did the colour you reflect with
much delight beautiful bow in the sky
who painted above you
A jealous in me burn and plunge myself in you!

Oh! big ocean who reign you
you are filled with joy and blessed lives
All in you enjoying the freedom
slaveless life May God bless me
I born in you and confluence in you!
Oh! Ocean you are always gifted
you are blessed by thee you are big and wide
Oh! Ocean you are deep and wide! .......

poem by Swagathnath Rajeswari
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There are Places (From, To Oscar Act III)

There are places so far away
Where the ocean has its spell
And dark doesn't leave the day
When the night says its farewell
There are times of lasting things
Further out in unknown nowhere
Where a different world sings
Remote from all the reality here

Something no one listens too
For the dreams are very brief
Wishful themes and quite new
That so soon must split and leave
Every heart is what you'll know
Nothing else to reach there out
Wandering waves in tides flow
Reaching to those shores about

There are pleases in the sea
Further on and tenebrific now
Where we all would want to be
But never can reach to somehow
For in reality we must hearken
Holding on to what we're seeing
If there's some somewhat darken
We are not suppose to believing

There are places so far away
Where the oceans has its spell
And dark doesn't leave the day
When the night says its farewell
There are times of lasting things
Further out in unknown nowhere
Where a different world sings
Remote from all the reality here

(Inspired by a whale that came up the Thames)

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Education -an Ocean

Dean of the students is
The cloud that fills the ocean.
Educator of the novice is
The salt in the ocean.
Student of an institute is
The water in that ocean.
Notorious among the students are
The predators of the ocean.

Man without education...
Ocean without water.....
Un imaginable they are!

Cream of students is
The pearl of the oceans.
Men who perceived Einstein`s theory are
The seven oceans in the world.
Exam time for the students are
The waves and the tides of these oceans.
And the time of the results coming in is
A whirl pool in the oceans.

poem by Harika Kuncham
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Or From That Sea Of Time

OR, from that Sea of Time,
Spray, blown by the wind--a double winrow-drift of weeds and shells;
(O little shells, so curious-convolute! so limpid-cold and voiceless!
Yet will you not, to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still bring up--Eternity's music, faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim--strains for the Soul of the
Prairies,
Whisper'd reverberations--chords for the ear of the West, joyously
sounding
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable;)
Infinitessimals out of my life, and many a life,
(For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give;) 10
These thoughts and Songs--waifs from the deep--here, cast high and
dry,
Wash'd on America's shores.

Currents of starting a Continent new,
Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid,
Fusion of ocean and land--tender and pensive waves,
(Not safe and peaceful only--waves rous'd and ominous too.
Out of the depths, the storm's abysms--Who knows whence? Death's
waves,
Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)

poem by Walt Whitman
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Painting Words

IMAGES SPRING FROM NOWHERE,
BUT BEAR A KNOWN DESIGN.
NO BRUSH OR PAINT IS MY WARE
THOUGH PAINTINGS DO SEEM MINE.

MY CANVAS BREATHES ALIVE
AS WORD AND IMAGE MERGE.
FROM NOTHINGNESS I STRIVE
TO CAPTURE EACH NEW SURGE.

PEN SWATHES, LIKE BRUSH STROKES,
FASHION WORDS, ONE-BY-ONE,
UNTIL MIND’S EYE EVOKES
IMAGES CLEAR AS THE SUN.

ALL WHO VIEW THESE WORKS
WILL FIND IT’S NOT ABSURD
TO FEEL THE POWER THAT LURKS
BEHIND EACH PAINTED WORD.

poem by Gregory Huyette
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Franz Kline, who became known for his black and white paintings, did a whole series of gorgeous landscapes and wonderful portraits that may still hang in Greenwich Village.

quote by David Amram
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Consequent, Etc.

AS consequent from store of summer rains,
Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing,
Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations,
Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea,
Songs of continued years I sing.

Life's ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend,
With the old streams of death.)

Some threading Ohio's farm-fields or the woods,
Some down Colorado's cañons from sources of perpetual snow,
Some half-hid in Oregon, or away southward in Texas, 10
Some in the north finding their way to Erie, Niagara, Ottawa,
Some to Atlantica's bays, and so to the great salt brine.

In you whoe'er you are my book perusing,
In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing,
All, all toward the mystic ocean tending.

Currents for starting a continent new,
Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid,
Fusion of ocean and land, tender and pensive waves,
(Not safe and peaceful only, waves rous'd and ominous too,
Out of the depths the storm's abysmic waves, who knows whence? 20
Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)

Or from the sea of Time, collecting vasting all, I bring,
A windrow-drift of weeds and shells.

O little shells, so curious-convolute, so limpid-cold and voiceless,
Will you not little shells to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still call up, eternity's music faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim, strains for the soul of the
prairies,
Whisper'd reverberations, chords for the ear of the West joyously
sounding,
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable,
Infinitesimals out of my life, and many a life, 30
(For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give,)
These waifs from the deep, cast high and dry,
Wash'd on America's shores?

poem by Walt Whitman
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A Question About Art

Our world forgets – has never known, perhaps –
that questions are a treasured magic wand:

the question asked, the answer may, most like, come freshly said
out of a space that’s new alike to teacher and to taught;

your question is today – how factual should I leave
my verse, or should I seek to ‘colour’ it with metaphor? …

this image comes to mind: ‘old master’ in his studio,
famed painter of Madonnas with attendant Child;

demand’s incessant; so he draws the outlines in,
and passes on the canvas to his studio hand;

coloured then, maybe he adds the master’s touch of life -–
the smile of angel’s sweetness on the Madonna’s face;

the glimpse of future in the Christ Child’s eyes;
and off it goes to some great patron’s church,

to comfort all of womanhood in woes and joys,
its colours gleaming candlelit in sacred prayer;

and yet, how connoisseurs may treasure that quick sketch
on scrap of hand-made paper, where the very touch

of sanguine chalk or silverpoint, reveal the immediate mind
of that old master, as it found the new track of the line;

the world will praise, admire, your coloured image of Her face;
but She will see, in pencilled sketch, how love springs from her grace..

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Random Sampling Invisibility

separated
into themes
sub classes
insights
split images
conceived

theme flight
concept
cannot
be picked
up dot
connected

constructed
checked
themes
masked
themes
variables

linked
coded
splicedread
identified
connected

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Fairies On The Sea Shore. By Howard

FIRST FAIRY.

MY home and haunt are in every leaf,
Whose life is a summer day, bright and brief,--
I live in the depths of the tulip's bower,
I wear a wreath of the cistus flower,
I drink the dew of the blue harebell,
I know the breath of the violet well,--
The white and the azure violet;
But I know not which is the sweetest yet,--
I have kiss'd the cheek of the rose;
I have watch'd the lily unclose,
My silver mine is the almond tree,
Who will come dwell with flower and me?

CHORUS OF FAIRIES.

Dance we our round, 'tis a summer night,
And our steps are led by the glow-worms' light.

SECOND FAIRY.

My dwelling is in the serpentine
Of the rainbow's colour'd line,--
See how its rose and amber clings
To the many hues of my radiant wings;
Mine is the step that bids the earth
Give to the iris flower its birth,
And mine the golden cup to hide,
Where the last faint hue of the rainbow died.
Search the depths of an Indian mine,
Where are the colours to match with mine?

CHORUS.

Dance we round, for the gale is bringing
Songs the summer rose is singing.

THIRD FAIRY.

I float on the breath of a minstrel's lute,
Or the wandering sounds of a distant flute,
Linger I over the tones that swell
From the pink-vein'd chords of an ocean-shell;
I love the sky-lark's morning hymn,
Or the nightingale heard at the twilight dim,
The echo, the fountain's melody,--
These, oh! these are the spells for me!

CHORUS.

Hail to the summer night of June;
See! yonder has risen our ladye moon.

FOURTH SPIRIT.

My palace is in the coral cave
Set with spars by the ocean wave;
Would ye have gems, then seek them there,--
There found I the pearls that bind my hair.
I and the wind together can roam
Over the green waves and their white foam,--
See, I have got this silver shell,
Mark how my breath will its smallness swell,
For the Nautilus is my boat
In which I over the waters float,--
The moon is shining over the sea,
Who is there will come sail with me?

CHORUS OF FAIRIES.

Our noontide sleep is on leaf and flower,
Our revels are held in a moonlit hour,--
What is there sweet, what is there fair,
And we are not the dwellers there?
Dance we round, for the morning light,
Will put us and our glow-worm lamps to flight!

poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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Whales Weep Not!

They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.

All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of the sea!

And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep of the sea

as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's fathomless body.

And over the bridge of the whale's strong phallus, linking the wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and forth,
keep passing archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of the beginning and the end.

And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
and all this happiness in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!

and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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Life is a painting! !

Coloured hues make up our life,
A role modelling brush shapes up our life,
Pure water mix our sorrows with joys,
A canvas's always there to put on your life,
A stand will always place you high in life,
A person is always beside to guide you in life,
And at last the whole world exists to look at your life....

You first paint your life on a piece of white,
you strive hard to shape your life,
but remember you always enjoy the strife you put in your life,
you first succeed when you sketch your life,
you then succeed when you paint it right,
you last succeed when you frame it bright....

Remenber a small jurk may spoil your thing,
bit of misguidance or excess of showing,
may not seem big when you ae doing,
but finally while looking,
that makes all the spoiling....

Just it is, your mistakes are not big,
when you do it,
but when life gets tougher,
mistakes look as blunders.
so strive as hard as you painted as much in life to succeed...

Good Luck! ! Go paint your life..

poem by Koushik Poolla
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Mahabharata

The world wanders in ruins -
Evanescent wonders seven - incessantly inundated
By tortous roars
The seven seas converge at the edge
Of apocalypse

Pulse on the waves to the
Indestructible edifice
Where in the ancient temple
The scroll is unrolled
I will cruise on the pursuit
To the sacred ganges
Where the river will gurgle the eternal songs.

Decked with epic grandeur
I have to wander from shore to shore
I have to plunge into strange depths
Be blinded by alien motes
For the voice etched on rocks.

poem by Kojo Owusu
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You Respond To The Call Of The Blue Whale

i

and for this reason
you shaun
too shall
live,

ii
live too
shaun
you and for this
reason

iii

the whale is blue
and lives in the ocean
blue
blue whale
in a blue ocean
deep
whale

iv

shaun blue deep
blue whale
ocean blue
we are one
i am also
blue in deep ocean blue
whale

v

ok.thanks, there is so much
to do when blue
when whales are blue
when oceans are blue
when everything is blue
blue, blue, blue, blue,
yes, thank you

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Empty Canvas

the canvas is juxtaposition
images colour movement time
time shifts in thought shifts

empty mind space canvas
is whatever artist declares
canvas is painted to be

empty canvas is whatever
canvas is painted to be
endless pigment possibilities

poem by Terence George Craddock
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