Without dear Blue
Sitting under the arbor
Of Blue
I painted Sharzad on
Canvas of solitude!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arbor of solitude
On this cool September's day
I am all ears
Sitting under the arbor
Of solitude
Hands folded!
poem by Framarz Bagheri
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Arbor Day is not like other holidays. Each of those reposes on the past, while Arbor Day proposes for the future.
quote by Julius Sterling Morton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The canvas
The canvas
~
This blank canvas before me
Laid out in pristine white
Where only the illusion of lines
Break the unparalleled possibility
Dare I take my pen to it
To scare forever its page
To pen the impossible thought
In verse and breath captivated
That only the mention of a word
Touches the heart and soul of man
Painted into eternity
Upon the canvas stained
No longer innocent, pristine
But touched by the mind
Whose eyes looked upon
A world as they chose to see it
poem by Matthew Holloway
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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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Paintings by fliss II Not So Abstract
Canvas on stand
Colours to the side
Pallet in hand
Let the brush slide
Orange and green
Coming from deep
Painting oh! Oh So serene
Trance like, almost a dream
Curves so sensual
The colours just flow
Enraptures, almost physical
Easy strokes, nice and slow
Show what's inside
Bristles caressing
Your hearts not lied
Smoothly, not fussing
Featherlight touch
Not a hint of blue
Like a lovers first touch
Exploring anew
Painted not drawn
Not one to delete
As fresh as the dawn
Canvas complete
RG/fliss
poem by Robert Green
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A morning canvas
A morning canvas
~
The clarity of a clear blue morning sky
like the emptiness of a blank canvas
invites the mind to wander on the day
what will be writ, what shall be seen
the serenade of birdsong in the breeze
softly, sweetly awakens the world
here a resolute beauty is found
and a heart invited to sing of love
let the day be won with hope and faith
let friends, family and lovers know
that this is a day to be owned
how thoughts come to a forefront
in the light the rising dawn
expressed without reluctance
upon the waiting canvas
in the clarity of a blue morning sky
this is a day to be alive
poem by Matthew Holloway
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My Madonna
I haled me a woman from the street,
Shameless, but, oh, so fair!
I bade her sit in the model's seat
And I painted her sitting there.
I hid all trace of her heart unclean;
I painted a babe at her breast;
I painted her as she might have been
If the Worst had been the Best.
She laughed at my picture and went away.
Then came, with a knowing nod,
A connoisseur, and I heard him say;
"'Tis Mary, the Mother of God."
So I painted a halo round her hair,
And I sold her and took my fee,
And she hangs in the church of Saint Hillaire,
Where you and all may see.
poem by Robert William Service
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The Simplicity Of Nature
reeds on the side of the lake
ripples of water
sand over mud
a green island on the other side
shades of the horizon
blue and darker sometimes
blue skies and fluffy white clouds
how this view sings in harmony
with the heart of a man
sitting in solitude under a tree
on the grass
nature is indeed simpler than man
more beautiful even without him
but who shall know? when man becomes
extinct, who shall know?
when man is finally excluded, who shall tell?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love & Solitude
Skies are overcast, windy and cold
Snowflakes falling like birds in troves.
I look through the window of solitude in soul
Sitting in my hotel abode.
Longing to see you, wishing you were here
Sitting beside me with never ending tales
Reminiscing the old times …the bygone days…
the interesting places we travelled through
and enjoyed the stays.
I just saw the gleam of your smile
Like silent lightening through the darkened skies
No, you never left me, I was never alone
Memories in solitude make life go on.
poem by Tasadduq Hussain Ejaz
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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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You know when you take the paint off an old canvas and you discover that something's been painted underneath it? That's what I feel like - that part of the old is coming through the new.
quote by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love An Art
Love is an art sketched
And painted atop a canvas of
Mutual respect.
poem by Syed Anwar Yarkhan Jilani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Assigned And Commissioned
The picture,
On a canvas painted...
Depicts a specific image,
Much greater than that...
Than the stature presented,
By the creator who made it.
For purposes to solicit a public exhibit.
Certain people selected will be forgiven,
For misdeeds intended.
Since they have an ability to diffuse truth.
No matter how low,
They may stoop to deceive.
With a getting of a reprieve...
To contnue doing as they please.
However...
There is a placement unmistakable,
For others labelled too abstract.
And into custom fittings...
They are deceptively unmatched,
With a matted background...
Known and viewed by just a few,
To be inappropriate for the framing done.
The picture,
On the canvas painted...
Depicts a specific image,
Much greater than that...
Than the stature presented,
By the creator who made it.
For purposes to solicit a public exhibit.
But...
If the painter of a picture,
Is assigned and commissioned...
With a payment no one will turn down to refuse,
Who will not pocket and run...
With a job requested and satisfies when done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint It Black
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and theyre all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby it just happens evryday
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and it has been painted black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not forsee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
Hmm, hmm, hmm...
I wanna see it painted black, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah
song performed by by Face To Face
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Child
Painted lady, stop that closin in on me,
Painted lady, youre supposed to be a dream,
Painted lady, you better stay away from me.
Painted lady, why you loosinin my tie,
Painted lady, whats that twinkle in your eye,
Painted lady, you better stay away from me.
Painted lady, with your jewels and your beads,
Painted lady, dont you do these dirty deeds,
Painted lady, you better stay here with me.
Nobodys child til I saw the light of your smile.
Painted lady, nobodys child, you have set me free.
Nobodys child, you came in and stayed for a while.
Painted lady, nobodys child, you have set me free.
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creation
I'm writing with every quotation as my sensation
With elaborate details as the realization
Taking a canvas and drawing the trees
Taking a canvas and drawing the seas
It is all bubbling over.
Sitting here with kettle I'm stirring
With my eyes I'm blurring
With my mouth I'm splurging
In the depths of my own existence
There is a being who lives
Sometimes he is of the great
Sometimes he is the snake
Each time something new
With my imagination unglued
Fall in love with the fellow will you
Mellow the anger
Bring up the sadness
Turn it in happiness
It is my creation
It is my revelation
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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God's Canvas Above
The Artist behind the canvas above, the sky's what I'm speaking of,
Stretched above so wide and blue, every day a painting brand new,
God's painting above for all to see, painted by The Lord of Eternity,
The canvas above God's Creation, visible by every man and nation.
He begins every day with the sun, The Creator's Light for everyone,
Keeping God's touch in mind, sometimes the sun He hides behind,
Those clouds, so white and full, all through The Lord's creative rule,
When the Lord does paint the sky, which is seen through every eye.
God ends each day not the same, although the clouds may remain,
As night begins He paints the sun, well over this earth's far horizon,
Turning the sky to a black canopy, to paint those stars that we see,
With the sun replaced by the moon, along with stars that are strewn.
This is just the sky above my friend, for God's Creation has no end,
It goes beyond what we can see, for God is The Creator of Eternity,
But, what God chooses to display, is a witness to all nations today,
His witness that men come to know, The Lord above all men below.
God's Creation, to all mankind, is The Creators testimony to remind,
There's a Creator beyond the sky, One, Who created both you and I,
Whose witness creates accountability, for every person that can see,
That above man there is a Creator, Who sent Christ to be our Savior.
(Copyright ©06/2012)
The Desert Reflection
Sitting in solitude
Thirsty for you
Wanting to talk
open to your will
Thinking of your love
Meditating on your mercy
Reflecting on the past
Looking to the future
Living in the present
Seeing your face
Hearing your voice
Feeling your presence
Comfortably
Sitting with you, Lord.
poem by Justin Kulwicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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