Unorganised Regimentation
(for Brian Miller Cumbernauld new town artist where I come from)
They stand upright
cast totem poles,
Banners large and stretched,
Standing stone sculptures
rounds and squares,
abstract silhouettes,
dimensions three or four
coloured against concrete grey…,
This unorganised regimentation
This unequivocal expressionism
Copyright © George Ross 2011
poem by Geordie Ross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silhouettes
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Took a walk and passed your house late last night,
All the shades were pulled and drawn way down tight.
From within the dim light cast two silhouettes on the shade.
Oh what a lovely couple they made.
Put his arms around your waist, held you tight.
Kisses I could almost taste, in the night.
Wondered why Im not the guy whose silhouettes on the shade.
I couldnt hide the tears in my eyes.
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Lost control and rang your bell, I was sore,
Let me in or else Ill beat down your door.
Saw two strangers who had been two silhouettes on the shade,
My heart skipped a beat I was on the wrong street.
Rushed down to your house with wings on my feet,
Loved you like Ive never loved you my sweet.
Vowed that you and I would be, two silhouettes on the shade.
All of our days two silhouettes on the shade.
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Two silhouettes on the shade.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silhouette (live)
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Took a walk and passed your house late last night,
All the shades were pulled and drawn way down tight.
From within the dim light cast two silhouettes on the shade.
Oh what a lovely couple they made.
Put his arms around your waist, held you tight.
Kisses i could almost taste, in the night.
Wondered why i'm not the guy whose silhouettes on the shade.
I couldn't hide the tears in my eyes.
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Lost control and rang your bell, i was sore,
"let me in or else i'll beat down your door".
Saw two strangers who had been two silhouettes on the shade,
My heart skipped a beat i was on the wrong street.
Rushed down to your house with wings on my feet,
Loved you like i've never loved you my sweet.
Vowed that you and i would be, two silhouettes on the shade.
All of our days two silhouettes on the shade.
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes,
Silhouettes, silhouettes, silhouettes.
Two silhouettes on the shade.
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flight At Kitty Hawk
assumes new dimensions
aeronautical aspirations
tiny dreams flowers seeds
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in May 2011 on the 4.5.2011
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Concrete and the Abstract
The concrete is visible,
the abstract is invisible.
The concrete is the outside,
the abstract is the inside.
The concrete is objective,
the abstract is subjective.
People go on searching for
God in the concrete.
'We would like to see God'
-they say.
But only the concrete can be seen;
the abstract has to be felt.
The concrete can be seen-
with the eyes open,
the abstract has to be seen-
with eyes closed.
God is inside you, as you.
You cannot stand outside God
and see Him;
you can see Him
only from the inside-
by being Him.
If you see a flower,
you can look at it scientifically.
You look at the chemistry of it,
You dissect it and
you come to know
about the components of it.
But something is missed
in that very analysis.
The beauty is missed,
because beauty is not a component.
If you ask the scientist -
'Where is the beauty that was in the flower? ’ he will say-
'That was not there,
it was just an illusion.'
'I have dissected it-
all and all,
and these are the things
that I have found.
These chemicals were there,
this matter was there,
these atoms, these molecules....
but there was no beauty.'
But when the scientist
gives the flower to his wife,
he knows deep within his heart
he is not giving her
something chemical,
He is giving to her
the beauty of the flower.
A poet said -
'Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder',
But I say it lies in the heart of the lover.
That beauty is not be seen,
it has to be felt,
not from the outside,
but from the inside
by being the flower itself.
poem by Nazmul Haque
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This 'n' That
Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
resurrecting damaged memories,
just to torture my soul.
Sometimes, when lying in bed,
I think about this ‘n’ that,
I doze off to unconsciousness.
Sometimes, this ‘n’ that gets to me,
disemboweling my being,
a cruel unusual punishment.
Sometimes, this ‘n’ that
awakens my demons,
painstakingly I exorcise my fallen angels.
Sometimes, I think about this ‘n’ that,
especially things that don’t matter anymore,
to torture my soul.
Copyright © George Ross 2011
poem by Geordie Ross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem of the Totem
Miss Totem of Totem School
Wore V-necks and a pair of shoes
Never did care
If others would stare
She knew that she looked cool
Miss Totem of Totem School
Was different than the others
She had a love for different things and never did drink soda
Miss Totem of Totem School
Had tons and tons of others
Big and little
Small and tall
Lots and lots of brothers
Miss Totem of Totem School
Had a million to a trill
Funky kinds of family members
Some are robots too
Miss Totem of Totem School
Has too many sisters
Some are loud
Most are proud
Huggable, funny, loose
Miss Totem of Totem School
Is a big musician
Give her an instrument and a job
Forreal she'll finish the mission
Miss Totem of Totem School
As tan as can be
Sweet as honey
Fluffy like bunnies
Miss Totem doesn't have a lot of money
I'll talk about her ways all day
She's the type to like to play that way
'Cause Miss Totem of Totem loves high rolling
Like skating and eating buffets
Miss Totem of Totem School has one more thing for you
She wants to say have a nice day
Thanks for listening
Staying awake
And not leaving any drool on her shoes
'Cause she likes to use them when she skates
The Truth Reverse
Nothing is universal,
But, the truth reverse.
What we see sometimes,
Isn't true but farce.
The abstract seems concrete,
The concrete appears abstract.
The thing we hate ever,
Also can attract.
poem by Nilakshi Das
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I think more than writers, the major influences on me have been European movies, jazz, and Abstract Expressionism.
quote by Don DeLillo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tea Time Choice
Should I have a biscuit
to help me drink my tea
A digestive or a custard cream
or a ginger nut for me.
I could even have a carmel log
even a chocolate ginger
My tea needs something dipped in it
How about a chocolate finger
Maybe it could be something Nice
Something crunchy I can swallow
I need to compliment my tea
I could try a coconut mallow
Give me that pack of rich teas
Wait! tea and shortbread they go well
I may consider gypsy creams
Im told they taste real swell
Wait a minute, I know what,
I’ll have something quite suggestive
But It’ll melt upon your hands and face
that chocolate digestive
This is becoming to stressful
As my tea is in its cup
I’ll have a bit of toast instead
Cause I canny make my mind up.
Copyright © George Ross 2011
poem by Geordie Ross
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Good Knight In Prison
Wearily, drearily,
Half the day long,
Flap the great banners
High over the stone;
Strangely and eerily
Sounds the wind's song,
Bending the banner-poles.
While, all alone,
Watching the loophole's spark,
Lie I, with life all dark,
Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd
Fast to the stone,
The grim walls, square-letter'd
With prison'd men's groan.
Still strain the banner-poles
Through the wind's song,
Westward the banner rolls
Over my wrong.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Prison
Wearily, drearily,
Half the day long,
Flap the great banners
High over the stone;
Strangely and eerily
Sounds the wind's song,
Bending the banner-poles.
While, all alone,
Watching the loophole's spark,
Lie I, with life all dark,
Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd
Fast to the stone,
The grim walls, square-letter'd
With prison'd men's groan.
Still strain the banner-poles
Through the wind's song,
Westward the banner rolls
Over my wrong.
poem by William Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want To Live On An Abstract Plain
Ive had it with this town
I never saw those shifting skies
I never saw the ground
Or the sunset rise
I want to live on an abstract plane
Im building a frame
A place to put my ten-yard stare
Thinking of that paint
Painted in plein-air
I want to live on an abstract plane
I need a new adress
I want some new terrain
Is it north or south?
I want to live on an abstract plain
I could sit on the roof
On top of that abstract house
See my abstract view
An abstract mouse
I want to live on an abstract plane
I need a new adress
Tell me Im not insane
Is it up or down?
I want to live on an abstract plane
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The ABC of our profession is to avoid these large abstract terms in order to try to discover behind them the only concrete realities, which are human beings.
quote by Marc Bloch
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tree Ballerina Attitude Night Glorified
young tree danced
her solo after bearing
hot heat of day
in depth ink darkness
smooth naked pale bark
stood out stretched
in rhythmic star light
symphony against velvet
backdropp of still night
as youth tree danced
standing stretched upright
one leg ground based
standing upon one leg
other left leg raised
behind pale naked body
with her knee bent
chest pressed forward
head back inclined
branching off into greenery
both arms stretch up back
fingers feather into green leaf
tree ballerina face twisted
partly in ecstasy to side
your attitude night glorified
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I was a student at Harvard, and that's where I learned about so-called avant-garde music. Jackson Pollock, abstract expressionism and painting were well known at this time.
quote by Henry Flynt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama's Boy
could't keep a secret
got a concrete skull
couldn't shut up you're an imbecile
you're an ugly dog there's
nothing to gain
you couldn't shut up got a
bad bad brain
couldn't hold your tongue you were just too young
like a two year old you told you told
you are all the same jelly bean brain
every one's a secret nerd
every one's a closet lame
ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-mama's boy
don't want to work in a hot dog stand
be a busboy messenger or a doorman
it's an abstract world you're an
abstract man
abstract city don't give a damn
song performed by by Ramones from Too Tough To Die
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: Art is Longer than Life
Much longer stays Art than an Artist’s life,
Whose earthly work is almost eternal!
His sculptures/ monuments though raised ’midst strife,
Can make any mortal, quite immortal.
The year’s consumed in the wake of an art,
His indomitable spirit and patience,
Can him enormous wealth on earth impart,
Or reward him with glory that is dense.
Each stone erected crumbles to powder;
Every painting can’t withstand time’s weather;
Inscriptions may be forgotten, brother;
But Art will live on and on much longer!
Oh, what hands made an Artist’s hands and brain!
He’s the Master Artist who brings the Rain.
poem by John Celes
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The Big One
I watched two people fishing,
one August day at the lake,
the sun was shining brightly,
as I began to bake.
I found an old oak tree,
to sit under and glare,
I watched these two for hours,
with their fishing poles high in the air.
They talked about the old times,
as they tried for their feast,
they were hoping for the big one:
a fish known as 'The Beast'.
I watched them be patient,
casting again and again in the water,
the fish were just not biting,
as the day got hotter and hotter.
Into the evening they cast their poles,
but no cast was better than the one before,
they packed up their gear and headed for home,
as my day continued-under the oak by the shore.
poem by George Aul
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swr Chasing Down Rainbows
bold Sir Walter Raleigh
new world explorer
chasing down rainbows
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in January 2011 on the 5.1.2011.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Witch Stone
At Forres is a large round stone,
A relic of the days by gone;
For here there were two witches burned,
Underneath their ashes urned.
A man with veneration small
Broke stone and built it in his wall,
But the authorities of town
Made him full quickly pull them down.
Replace each piece, and it environ
With large bars of good Scottish iron ;
May fine old town thrive and adorn
The beauteous banks of the Findhorn.
poem by James McIntyre
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