My Artistic Intent
My artistic intent kept me up all night without relent,
I wanted to paint you a monet or a turner
But art was never my strong point
And being a slow learner
I painted a tiny flower instead
My artistic intent drew me to a small corner cafe
With a seat for one
Even after a sleepingless night
This stubborn muse wasn't done
Instead half dead I sat for hours
With a noteook and pen
Re writing the same sentence
Over and over again
I told the waitress it was my first draft
Her english was poor and so closing the door
She laughed, ''Do you feel warmer now? '
At closing time I left two sentences better off
Than before!
My artistic intent fired me on without relent
I wanted to compose an epic or
A poem of some great worth
But after a certain hour I lost the power
Forgot to feed the metre and in the dark
Couldn't complete her!
At dawn
I walked all forlorn
Through the streets
With heavy heart and feet
I was no artist
Just an insomniac
Who lost the power of speech
I was hungry and stopped for a peach
And ate an apple and pear
And did my shopping and went home to sleep
Half comatosed I arose
That's when I composed
My new world symphony in one key,
After much praise and applause
And feeling confused
I pointed to my 'muse'
It's him you should thank, not me!
emily water melon bronte
poem by Yvette Smith
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Related quotes
Artistic
Artistic
It's artistic
Grace in your movement
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Sweetness in your voice
Is artistic.
Artistic
It's artistic
Gleam in your eye
Is artistic.
I'm filled with inspiration
In my dormant artistic pursuit...
With brush in hand
I'll paint your every move
With hidden treasure of words
I'll weave poems of what you say
And I'll move as you command
By the gleam of your eye.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXIX: In Their Eyes
You don't intent to be modest
You don't mean to say those white lies
You just don't want to be judged bad in their eyes
You don't intent to be friendly
You don't mean to chat a long
You just don't want to look ugly in their eyes
You don't intent to be strong
You don't mean to show power
You just don't want to lose control in their eyes
You don't intent to be brave
You don't mean to take the role of hero
You just don't want to appear weak in their eyes
You don't intent to be obedient
You don't mean to do all the orders
You just don't want to be considered a threat in their eyes
You don't intent to be professional
You don't mean to follow the rules
You just don't want to be seen indifferent in their eyes
You don't intent to be kind
You don't mean to give a help
You just don't want to raise suspiciousness in their eyes
You don't intent to be generous
You don't mean to be involved in any relation
You just don't want to be outsider in their eyes
You don't intent to be honest
You don't mean to tell the truth
You just don't want to be the one who should be responsible in their eyes
You don't intent to be forgiving
You don't mean to forget every mistake
You just don't want to be called cruel in their eyes
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Coronation of a King
Finally crowned king of this world!
He'd come along roads and across rivers,
He was the man from the other world,
He wasn't deterred by estrangement,
He didn't know the way back,
Nor did he want to tread that path,
All he wanted was to cruise ahead,
To trample down the new tracks,
Not to take those beaten paths.
Corridors of power mapped in his brain,
Just marched ahead with a steely intent.
Power over people and power over the world,
Readily renounced control over himself,
Lost all power he had over himself,
For power over people and the world.
Thus he roamed the corridors of power,
Waiting for the day he'd be king,
The coronation over, power gained,
But I await the day he'd rue the loss,
The lost control over his own life.
poem by Saju Abraham
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The Artists
you are the best artists
You hang my skin on the wall and drew me with ulna dip into my blood
You are great
You drew my face on your heart and paint it with love
You sew my name on your lip and pin it to the cloud
You background me with you in the distant future
Holding our seeds with smile of euphoria
You are my artist
You drew my mistakes on my chest and erase
It with your hand wrapping me softly
You blend our soul and mind and mount it as a kite flying the banner of bliss
You are beautiful
I've paint your heart with musk, your lip with honey and you skin with amber
We are both an artist
We carved ourselve with due
You clipped my eyes to the moon
I clipped the stars to you hair with galaxies of flower decorating our world
You my artist
You drew me with the world gazing at your statue hanging on the sky with flying nymphs sing songs of our artistic shadow
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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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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I'm feeling all alone
I've always said this is a big big world
And now I'm lost in this world
Lost feeling...
Lost love...
Lost and confused,
Even broken and used.
Lost everything for love
I'm so lost
Im dying inside
When trus is lost, how can things,
move forward?
I'm feeling all alone
I'm lost in my feelings
I'm lost in everything.
I los him...
I los his heart.
Wanted to write a poem
But lost the words
I've lost everything and I don't,
Know why.
I'm lost in this world
My mind is lost
I cant seem to trust anyone
Thoughts of nothing
No dreams or goals
I'm lost in this world.
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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A Creative Dream!
Kaleidoscopic dreams are beautiful
As the architectural beauty here!
Beauty of Nature reflected in art
A wonderful dream it is to muse!
Nature, art and dreams are colourful
With the imagination enhancing scope
To see a wonderful creative process
Materializing into great master piece!
Dreaming in Nature mind of art finds
Wonderful pasture to enjoy unique joy
Leading the poet to compose poems
Artistic, natural and fantastic forever!
Mind full of artistic ideas engrossed
In Nature poets dream great wonders!
poem by Ramesh T A
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With Intent
The lonely leopard forced to find
His next meal now and then,
Walked with intent, with single mind,
With one thought yet again...
To hunt alone, with none to blame
If something should go wrong,
Just basic skills that stayed the same,
That's why he must stay strong...
He passed the time reserving power,
Till his next meal arrived,
Perhaps within this coming hour,
Based on the plans contrived...
His eyes looked left, his eyes looked right,
Surveying all there was,
Perhaps to see something take flight
Then chase or suffer loss...
The lonely leopard sleek and fast
And ruthless, come what may,
Reflected on his solemn past,
The trail of fallen prey...
He lived the life that Nature gave,
To kill yet not repent...
Like predators who daily crave,
He now walked with intent...
Denis Martindale, copyright, May 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'With Intent'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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What I Believe
Lies and deceiving is what i'm believing
Up to my knees so hared to breathe
It helps that you aren't there
Can't figure out what's the right thing for me
Guess I'll have to wait and see
So understanding but so far from the truth
It's what I have to live with
It's not all I wanted to be
It's not all I wanted to see
I can't keep on leading
I've left what I'm leaving
Guess that's just what I believe
Consciously taking and overly faking
I can't believe all the things that you're saying
Seems all so simple it's all up to you
Time after time
You lost what you couldn't find
It's what you could
It's only what you could
Don't take not what you could
But I know what's up
song performed by by Sum 41 from Half Hour Of Power
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Creative Soul Quite Out Of Sorts
creative soul quite out of sorts
are you really source defined
by what you have done?
remembered by what you have written?
does not forest, lakes, rivers,
windswept beaches, ocean tides,
ebb flow in kiwi artistic souls?
do you not hunger starve feel
beginnings are glory dawn chorus
with an eternal day sun bean streams
birth begging come write me?
past writes be they haka or poi songs
lilting lullaby soft night whispered blessings
stretching dark far back to jaw thigh bones
stretch dark far back to ancestor jaw thigh bones
ancestor blessings running sleeping
dream running in waking
eye infant sleep listening...
eye infant ancient sleep listening...
artistic walking time lines
artistic walking seed own time lines
hooks fishing catch spirit minds...
wear colour cloak rainbow bird feathers...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Man Said No!
I wanted to build myself a boat
Everyone said that it wouldn't float
As carpentry and boating I do not know
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to plant myself a flower
I was told I couldn't without knowledge or a power
I wasn't a gardener so plants I did not grow
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to learn myself how to fly
But I was told if I did I would die
In the air to the ground I would crash below
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to cook and to become a chef
But I was told that I wasn't mature enough
If I lit a match I would cause and inferno
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to learn to play and to enjoy music
But I wasn't allowed to listen to it
I wasn't taught to sing or to play the piano
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to learn how to ski
But to my idea everyone did disagree
Everyone knew I loved the cold and the snow
So man unto me, he said no.
I wanted to live my life the way I should
Do what I believed and understand what I could
To my want's and idea's to all I did confess
So man he said no; but GOD he said yes.
poem by Randy McClave
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Ode to Shoppers Everywhere
Shopping's a pleasure
Says the local ad
To ensure
That in parting with your cash – you'll be glad.
So it was the other day
When I was picking my way
Amongst the bags and cans
And jars of assorted brands
That I looked up to see
Coming straight for me
A lady (that's what we call them)
Riding a motorized shopping pram.
So intent was she
That I hardly had time to flee
Escape was what I intended
Otherwise my life would have surely ended
For not only was she intent on shopping pleasures
But had in tow a full size cart to hold her treasures.
With items heaped high.
There was surely no sense of others nearby
Intent and passionately she came on
Taking only a moment to select and then was gone.
Gone was she to regions of the store,
I know not where, or wanted any more
Of the terrors that perhaps lurk
Around every twist and turn
So I hastened to the check out
Forgetting what other items I was without
Glad to seek the safety of the street
Where with cars and trucks I'll gladly compete.
s
poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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From the beginning of my career I told myself, among other things, that I didn't want to take orders from anybody. I have now reached a position where I can do what I choose to do and from the financial point of view this amounts to freedom in choosing the best artistic material available without being concerned about the cost. To me, money in itself has no attraction. But insofar as it allows me to achieve my artistic aims, money is important.
quote by Herbert von Karajan
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Live... From The Funeral Of God
Live from the funeral of God
Live from the funeral of God
This is the day you've awaited
Sponsored and celebrated
He has answered your prayers
Corpses have piled up with your riches
They have spilled over onto the Earth
We spit and wear our fear like masks
Everything is locked into form
(Interrupt the feed)
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
Are men no worse than demons?
Are armies not thirsty for bleed?
The desire of their hearts has been met
Eons and eons
Decades of liars
Drink with power atop the mountains of corpses
Their arms and legs fail and they crawl like serpents
To address those who are mourning
Live from the funeral of God
Of God
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
(It's closing in, its closing in) The skys so dark
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
There is no reason to be afraid
Everything is under control
song performed by by Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pain I Forgot
It all started with my man and i sitting at the hospital waiting for blood test results to see what was happening to me
suddenly after hours of waiting the doctor came in and said congratulations your pregnant
months went by i still think of him as my most beautiful surprise
some days were hard others were easy most flew by
so im 3 days past my due date
been in back labor for 5 days
it hurts and its crazy
woke up to contractions at 11: 00
went to the hospital they said your 2 cm dilated
and we know your contractions are 4 mins appart
so go home try to walk as much as you can
walked for a half hour around the house contractions got 2 mins appart
they took me bk i was 4 an a half cm i said look just give me the epadural
they came back a half hour later my aunt kept saying sandy
blow out hunters birthday candles
they broke my water an gave me the epadural finally said ok its time to push
half way through the called in an expert
sandy dont panic but hes face up
now your gunna feel pressure just dont push
it wasnt pressure it was pain
i wanted to cry cause they had to turn him
next thing i know they say
sandy we have an expert here hes stuck your to small so we have to use the vaccume
i wanted to cry my aunt saw the tears in my eyes
the dad had to run out befor he fainted
my aunt held my hand cut the cord
then the pain was over,
they handed me my baby boy and i started to cry looked up at my aunt and said hes so beautiful as my bf walked in saw me holding hunter and we both cried and i forgot the pain
no ever time i look at him i can say i never wanna go through that again
but he is worth everything everyday
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Half In Day, Half In Night!
what if you moved the mountain?
raised your hand and stilled the storm?
fed the hungry, healed the sick,
and stood up and stopped all wars?
what if you peeled back the mask of prejudice,
and exposed the beating heart?
what if you walked on the water?
what if you built a temple,
using only your own hands?
what if you made your life a prayer?
what if you gave all you had to the poor?
what if you did all of this,
and it still wasnt enough?
would you be willing to go on?
what if i gave you my heart,
my spirit, and my soul?
and laid my body at your feet,
sacrificing my dreams for yours?
what if i stood up like a man
and demanded an answer?
would you know,
and would you care?
what if i opened the door
and flew into the night?
would there be a light on
when i returned?
what if i just dont know
anything else to say or do?
so what if i just be me?
would you recognize the man
standing, half in day,
and half in night?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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So I'm in that half-hour business where the most money is, so that eventually I feel like the people that put on the Dupont show, like maybe my artistic effort is going to be a little different.
quote by Jackie Cooper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somewhere In The Night
Time
You found time enough to love
And I found love enough to hold you
So tonight, Ill stir the fire you feel inside
Until the flames of love enfold you
Layin beside you, lost in the feeling
So glad you open my door
Come with me
Somewhere in the night we will know
Everything lovers can know
Youre my song
Music too magic to end
Ill play you over and over again
Lovin so warm, movin so right
Closing our eyes, and feeling the light
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night
Youll sleep when the morning comes
And Ill lie and watch you sleeping
And youll smile, when you dream about the night
Like its a secret youve been keeping
Layin beside you lost in the feeling
So glad you open my door
Youre my song
Music too magic to end
Ill play you over and over again
Lovin so warm, moving so right
Closing our eyes and feeling the light
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night
Well just go on burning bright
Somewhere in the night.
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was a particularly interesting and exciting time, and the European political and artistic establishment was turned on by the Civil Rights Movement and the artistic revolution that was becoming a part of jazz.
quote by Archie Shepp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life and Sand.
Lena sits and waits. The artist has
Wandered off, gone to the john or
To a bar or to have a quickie with
The local slut, she doesn't know.
She's been here before, the same
Being left behind, the silent studio
Situation, smell of paint, oils and
Other artist's tools and useful stuff.
She has modelled for others and
They've always been the same, being
Lost in another world, stinking of
Turpentine, paint, sex, and all the rest.
She crosses her legs. Sniffs the air.
Wearing the green dress he wanted
Her to wear, her well brushed hair.
She recalls the artist's antics the night
Before, the want of sex, the fumbling
In the dark, the creaky bed, the banging
Away, all those images left in her head.
She uncrosses her legs. Other paintings
Lay around, some leaning against walls,
Some framed, some not, some sold,
Some recent, all modern, some old.
She wonders if she will be like these,
Left aside, used, done with, her oils dried,
Sitting waiting, her youth has died,
And she waits with the ticking of the
Clock, the moving hand, the hour glass
And the slow running out of life and sand.
poem by Terry Collett
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