Cloud Formations and Jane..
I like cloud formations
Jane said
laying on her back
in the small church yard
looking up at the sky
above her head
it's like a form of art
you said
grey and white
against a canvas of blue
that looks like a man's head
Jane said
the way it forms
and unforms
you followed
the pointing
of her finger at the sky
that looks like a dog
over there
you said
she looked
and then gazed at you
her blue eyes
catching the sun's light
through a tree above
I like these moments alone
with you
she said
no one near us
no disturbance
no sounds save for birdsong
and the buzz of bees
you moved closer to her
and lay with you right hand
supporting your head
searching her eyes
her dark hair
about her face
daddy said
that Heaven is above us
and looking
at the cloud formations
I feel I see it
especially when the sun
shines through
she said
her lips moving
with slow motion
I think that sometimes
you said
she leaned nearer to you
and kissed your lips
then lay back
and stared at the clouds
and sky
and you lay back too
thinking inwardly
this is where
I'd like to lie
the day I die.
poem by Terry Collett
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Related quotes
The Final Painting
The white cloud passed over the land
there is sea always round the land
the sky is blue always above the cloud
the cloud in the blue continues to move
- nothing is limited by the canvas or frame -
the white cloud can be pictured like any
other clouds or like a fist of wool
or a white fur rose
The white cloud passes a shadow across
the landscape and so there is a passing greyness
The grey and the white both envelop
the watcher until he too is drawn into the picture
It is all a journey from a room through a door
down stairs and out into the street
The cloud could possess the house
The watchers have a mutual confidence
with the approaching string of white clouds
It is beyond spoken words what they are
silently mouthing to the sky
There was no mystery in this - only the firm
outline of people in overcoats on a hillside
and the line of clouds above them
The sky is blue The cloud white with touches
of grey - the rest - the landscape below -
can be left to the imagination
The whole painting quietly dissolved itself
into its surrounding clouds
poem by Lee Harwood
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A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day
Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up
the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was
laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up
as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me
you were here
you said
I think Mother
must like you
she wouldn't
have told you
otherwise
Jane said
getting up
from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress
who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers
placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner
we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower
oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around
and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?
you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping
while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process
is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied
ok
you said
and you followed her
down the path
and along the lane
to her house
and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes
her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you
to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her
to go alone
that's all right
you said
and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said
see she trusts you
not many boys
around here
she'd say that to
oh right
you said
looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes
gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag
and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on
she said and
so she took
your hand
and you walked
along the lane
keeping close
to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue
and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Digital Map Of Anatomical Body
moving compositions
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
...
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
anatomy of mental formations
contemplated erosions below! ! !
The body detailes concepts!
We are Seven
--------A Simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I met a little cottage Girl:
She was eight years old, she said;
Her hair was thick with many a curl
That clustered round her head.
She had a rustic, woodland air,
And she was wildly clad:
Her eyes were fair, and very fair;
--Her beauty made me glad.
"Sisters and brothers, little Maid,
How many may you be?"
"How many? Seven in all," she said
And wondering looked at me.
"And where are they? I pray you tell."
She answered, "Seven are we;
And two of us at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea.
"Two of us in the church-yard lie,
My sister and my brother;
And, in the church-yard cottage, I
Dwell near them with my mother."
"You say that two at Conway dwell,
And two are gone to sea,
Yet ye are seven!--I pray you tell,
Sweet Maid, how this may be."
Then did the little Maid reply,
"Seven boys and girls are we;
Two of us in the church-yard lie,
Beneath the church-yard tree."
"You run about, my little Maid,
Your limbs they are alive;
If two are in the church-yard laid,
Then ye are only five."
"Their graves are green, they may be seen,"
The little Maid replied,
"Twelve steps or more from my mother's door,
And they are side by side.
"My stockings there I often knit,
My kerchief there I hem;
And there upon the ground I sit,
And sing a song to them.
"And often after sunset, Sir,
When it is light and fair,
I take my little porringer,
And eat my supper there.
"The first that died was sister Jane;
In bed she moaning lay,
Till God released her of her pain;
And then she went away.
"So in the church-yard she was laid;
And, when the grass was dry,
Together round her grave we played,
My brother John and I.
"And when the ground was white with snow,
And I could run and slide,
My brother John was forced to go,
And he lies by her side."
"How many are you, then," said I,
"If they two are in heaven?"
Quick was the little Maid's reply,
"O Master! we are seven."
"But they are dead; those two are dead!
Their spirits are in heaven!"
'Twas throwing words away; for still
The little Maid would have her will,
And said, "Nay, we are seven!"
poem by William Wordsworth
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Grey cloud formations
Turn into cool drops of rain-
New manifestation…
haiku by Mamta Agarwal
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Some Lovely
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
I've got some lovely in my head, in my head
Where the lions, wear the right eye,
Where the jems (?) roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Where's the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there be footlong
There be yardstick stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be big sky
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Lovely
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
I've got some lovely in my head, in my head
Where the lions, wear the right eye,
Where the jems (?) roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Where's the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there be footlong
There be yardstick stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be big sky
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, i got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Brown Guitar
In my heart, in my heart
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my head, in my head
Where the lions wear the right tie,
Where the gems roar, there be lovely
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my bed, in my bed
Where the ocean wears the shore down
Wheres the on switch?
There be lovely laying waiting naked for you
(chorus)
We can play every day
We can play at being lovers
We can play every day
We can play on my brown guitar
(repeat chorus)
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my yard, in my yard
There be inchworm, there we football
Take my yardstick, stir some lovely
Laying waiting naked for you
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my field, in my field
There be green grass, there be pink skies
There be blue birds come and nest there
(chorus x 2)
You want some lovely, I got some lovely
In my heart, in my heart for you
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Good Deed Done.
The old woman
was lying
on the path
from her
ground floor flat
along Harper Road
when you and Helen
walked by
on your way
from the shop
with your penny drinks
you both ran to her
and she said she'd fallen
so Helen
ran across
to the surgery
on the other side
of the road
while you knelt
by the woman
placing your
short sleeved pullover
under her head
you're a good boy
she said
but you'll have blood on it now
don't matter
you said
you stroked her head
and pushed
her grey hair
out of her white blue eyes
when Helen returned
with a doctor
he examined
the old woman
and said
he had called
an ambulance
Helen stood
next to you
her eyes tearful
her hand
touching yours
the woman said
thank you both
I don't know
what I'd have done
if you hadn't come along
it's the least we could do
Helen said
you waited
until the ambulance came
and took her away
and disappeared
off along Harper Road
look at your pullover
Helen said
it's got blood on it
don't matter
gives it colour
you replied
anyway Mum'll wash it out
she gazed at you
through her thick lens
her eyes awash
with tears
her small hand
still in yours
the path
from the old lady's flat
had a small stain
of dark red
where blood had seeped
where she'd laid her head
a bit like an abstract
pavement artist's work
you said
the white stone canvas
with that touch of red.
poem by Terry Collett
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See Jane Run
(porter howell/tim nichols)
Dick and jane dont talk anymore, jane lays awake
Wishin it could be like it was before
Finally one night, she got tough
Dick came home, and she was packin her stuff
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Dicks tore up, deep down inside
Jane feels good, there aint a tear in her pretty blue eyes
Red taillights, fade out of sight
Spots in the back, hes just along for the ride
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Yeah, close the book, the storys done
See jane run, oh see jane run, see jane run
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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See Jane Run
(porter howell/tim nichols)
Dick and jane dont talk anymore, jane lays awake
Wishin it could be like it was before
Finally one night, she got tough
Dick came home, and she was packin her stuff
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Dicks tore up, deep down inside
Jane feels good, there aint a tear in her pretty blue eyes
Red taillights, fade out of sight
Spots in the back, hes just along for the ride
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
See jane run, see dick cry
Hes standin in the street with his hands in the air
Goin why jane, why
She dont look back, shes seen enough
Close the book, the storys done, see jane run
Yeah, close the book, the storys done
See jane run, oh see jane run, see jane run
song performed by by Trace Adkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At the Harbour
The ships are in the harbour,
Some ship are small, some are larger,
The wavy waters blue and green,
Although blue and green should not be seen.
Saucy Jane was a little red boat,
Who bobbed merrily upon Squire John’s moat?
Her sail was white, her stern was mauve.
Han sail was white, her mast was new,
As she swam through the sea,
Of tranquil blue, with trickling bits of green.
poem by Claire Galpin
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A Wonderful Painting
A Wonderful Painting
by Alex Lewis
I remember before my mother's art
When I was but an egg.
The painting took color in every part.
One shade is but a leg.
The lavish blues spread across the page like a waving, smiling sea.
The canvas was plain and bare, except the blues, happily set free.
With the blue, I went to play as childish as I may.
The one clam and I sat with ourselves on the whaling bay.
This is me, like a leaf, on my first day at green.
So, all the others spoke; I found that none were mean.
There were dark greens, light ones, and one stuck in the middle.
After math, my friend and I learnt to play the fiddle.
My friend and I continued to play our little tune.
We soon fell in pink to which neither one was immune.
Our pink grew and grew as each day had passed.
Green had ended blue; only pink would last.
We took our pink and ran right through to angry, waiting brown.
Brown was angry for making him wait with a black-white frown.
We explained that blue made us wait for an azure set of eighteen.
He forgave us. My friend, brown, pink, and I live for only one team.
We decided to get the canvas and add a dash of white.
Pink was overwhelmed as white carried on through the love-filled night.
We can add white to family before blue decides to return again.
Red will also join the painting party-Another eighteen before men!
It took a lot of work to make my dear reds come.
I enjoyed the work, but my reds were way more fun.
One red stayed with us, but the other ran away rather young.
Maybe brown kidnapped him early, but strange words travel by tongue.
We turned grey as brown dimmed down, but we swear we've never seen pink more bright!
Brown had completely gone, like both of our reds, but pink still made things light.
I then feared and cried as my pink's grey burned out like a setting sun.
My grey began to fade too, but I was ready. My life was done.
My mother handed me the canvas and the frame,
But I had to add all the colors (none I showed for shame) .
Blue, green, pink, brown, red, grey-my portrait is made of those colors,
But I am just one piece in a gallery, and all of you are the others.
poem by Alex Lewis
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Jane and Bullfinch Eggs
Those are Bullfinch's eggs
Jane said
pointing at
the 5 eggs
in a nest
hidden in a hedge
and as she pointed
you imagined
that some god
modelled all female fingers
on that before you
how the nail was set
so perfectly
on the finger's tip
the colour pinkish white
the skin almost blending in
we mustn't disturb
she added
or the mother bird
will fly away
and not return
oh right
you said
gazing at the eggs
once her finger
had been removed
from the hedge
you studied
the pale blue eggs
speckled there
and sensed her presence
near your cheek
the lavender
that she wore
the way her hair dark
coming to her shoulders
was tied back
from her face
some collect them
Jane said
and pierce the top
and bottom
and blow through the contents
and have them on display
do they?
you said
seeing the sad expression
she wore
why is that?
you asked
she stood back
from the hedgerow
and looking at you
with her dark eyes
said
because they must have
they have to collect
what is there
for all to see
they must just have
for themselves alone
the May sun
was shining warm
and she took your hand
in hers and walked
you on along the lane
the small stream running
by the lane's edge
her grey skirt
and white blouse
and white socks
giving her a plain look
but her eyes lit up
and she smiled again
and you wanted
at that moment
as she held your hand
for that hour
to be there forever
not to be lost
thinking you knew then
the depth of love
and not its loss
of that
and feeling sense
and not the cost.
poem by Terry Collett
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Ocean Blue
Well you took me home
And you took me back
But deep down inside
The feeling just died and i
Couldnt see why
From indigo to royal blue
I travel far but no one will do
Anytime, anyplace
Every shape every face
Brings memories of you
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
Fair weather friends might drift away
When summer ends and skies burn grey
So I walk to the ocean
Pilot these shores
Just thinking of you
Its time we kissed the clouds goodbye
From now on its strictly blue sky
Come rain and shine
The outlook is still fine
Im thinking of you
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean blue
Ocean blue, ocean ocean
Ocean, ocean
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue
Blue to be blue
To be blue
Ocean blue - ocean blue
I stand at the head of the queue
Theres mutinys every crew
Wishin and wonderin bout you
Ocean blue
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I ground my faith upon God's word, and not upon the church.
Mary Jane
Now when I go to work, I work all day,
Always turns out the same.
When I bring home my hard-earned pay
I spend my money all on mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Oh if a man should look tame now, mean and mature,
They all turn out the same.
cause they cant do nothing to make a man feel good
Like my old mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Now I walk in the street now lookin for a friend
One that can lend me some change.
And he never questions my reason why,
cause he too loves mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Well, I have known women that wanted no man,
Some that wanted to stay.
But I never knew what happened in this world
Till I met up with mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
Oh, when Im feelin lonesome and Im feelin blue,
Theres only one way to change.
Now I walk down the street now lookin for a man,
One that knows my mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pretoria At Half Past Four
At half past four
while the civil service employees
are going home
blue-white thunderbolts crash down
while an afternoon shower begins
and the road becomes a skating rink.
Pedestrians run into the shelter of buildings,
the road workers stop their labour
where they are repairing the road,
while the main roads run like small rivers
with water flowing knee deep
and housewives in the suburbs take cover
behind closed doors.
Inside the shelter of a small church
you are peaceful on your knees
while you pray
and a few lost teenagers
sit scared on the back benches
and the banner in the church
proclaims that God saves.
Some light fall radiating white on your face,
while outside lightning bolts are crashing down,
while somewhere in the distance sirens below;
you talk like every other day
with the God of the universe.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Canvas
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The stories that it tells.
Oh how she loves to paint her thoughts,
And etch a perfect spell.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
The memories that it holds.
Oh how she loves to trace the lines,
And tell if new or old.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
Her stability in an unstable world.
Oh how she loves to fret away,
At all of her unfurled.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A standstill of art and truth.
Oh how she loves the feel of it,
To reminisce her youth.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
A long work of her life.
Oh how she loves the twisted colors,
Splashes of red upon white.
Oh how she loves her canvas,
She crafts each inch with care.
She hides her canvas well away,
Though she often earns a stare.
Do not tell of her canvas,
Keep the secret- she insists.
But perhaps some time take a second glance,
For her canvas is her wrist.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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In the empty studio
The diffused northern sunlight
of this studio at dawn
matches the silence and the stillness
like the speaking silence
of the retrochoir behind the altar
of a simple white Greek island church –
that has no ornament; simply walls
painted in a pale blue wash,
the space, the air itself, as radiant with heaven;
behind the iconostasis – gold and candle and eternal gaze -
where praise is prepared; thought surrendered;
humility the robe; the sacred word awaits
the moment when it’s spoken;
so this studio; and at its centre, calling,
stands an easel with a white canvas on it;
what waits in this empty studio
that’s so full of emptiness that calls?
what challenges? This canvas
waits, as being ever does; full, content,
needing nothing but itself…
the silence will accept our spoken word,
then return to stillness;
the canvas will not be so forgiving;
‘make a mark on me that will not diminish
my completeness…; so let our being
meet, before a mark is made…’
this holy place: only godself may mark
this canvas and yet not detract; from space,
draw space; or may with colour stain transparent
this white white radiance of eternity:
and in the place whence all arises,
Nothing and Everything smile together
in their secret play.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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