Woman Playing Guitar
Her breast
fit
like a fruit
in the curve
of the small guitar,
and I
would have been
her Picasso,
some
Spanish afternoon.
poem by Larry Kimmel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Picasso Is...
Picasso is...
Picasso transcends mortality.
Picasso is fury artistic dynamics in motion.
Picasso always moving in styles
to new levels of artistic perception
through seen seam fractures
of shift broken molten imagery.
Picasso is walking through walls.
Picasso is rebirth in conception.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mi Media Naranja
I am searching for my soul mate
Oh baby I know it’s not too late
Maybe try in a foreign tongue
The very reason for my song
Hey why not in Spanish…
Chorus:
Mi Media Naranja por donde encuentra
Madrid, Perú o Sri Lanka…
(interlude with Spanish guitar)
Oh I am not gonna vanish..
I climb mountains and dive a sea
So why not search an orange tree
Ying and Yang my high ambition
Oh on my love life’s mission
Chorus:
Mi Media Naranja por donde encuentra
Madrid, Perú o Sri Lanka…
(Interlude with Spanish guitar)
In Spanish a fine expression
Made me such an impression
My other half of orange fruit
I am now completely en route
Chorus:
Mi Media Naranja por donde encuentra
Madrid, Perú o Sri Lanka…
(interlude with Spanish guitar)
Life is mine to fully discover
Now on the hunt for new lover
A love anthem for any language
Just never be quick to judge
Chorus:
Mi Media Naranja por donde encuentra
Madrid, Perú o Sri Lanka…
(interlude with Spanish guitar)
poem by Isabel Lavender
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When Picasso painted in Paris, was he a Spanish or a French painter? It does not matter, he was Picasso, whatever the influences surrounding him. He simply chose Paris because it was the ideal place for him to sell his creation.
quote by Jean-Jacques Annaud
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Afternoon Tea
Tea time wont be the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I think about that small cafe
Thats where we used to meet each day
And then we used to sit a while
And drink our afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take sugar with tea (afternoon tea)
You take milk if you please (afternoon tea)
Like you talking to me
Because you ease my mind
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Tea time still aint the same without my donna
At night I lie awake and dream of donna
I went to our cafe one day
They said that donna walked away
Youd think at least she might have stayed
To drink her afternoon tea
Ill take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
If you take it with me (afternoon tea)
You take as long as you like
cause I like you, girl
I take afternoon tea (afternoon tea)
Every day of the week (afternoon tea)
Please come along if you like
Because I like you, girl
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba (afternoon tea)
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Picasso
Words and music by neil diamond
The last picasso, the last picasso was just acquired by some old museum, and don quixote, well don quixote the old mans rhyme has lost its reason; which only reminds me have I remembered to say that without you this life of plenty, would seem so empty, the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. the last picasso, the last picasso may gather dust amid the ruins, and don quixote, well don quixote may no longer make his wishful tunes; but I still have you and I will have you when evrything else is gone and done with. well be like one with the last picasso. oh me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--me oh me oh me oh me oh me and you-- we, we can sigh--me oh me oh me oh me oh we can sigh. oh, me and you--we we can sigh me oh me oh me oh we can sign. oh, me and you.
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I listened to classical guitar and Spanish guitar, as well as jazz guitar players, rock and roll and blues. All of it. I did the same thing with my voice.
quote by Boz Scaggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mario Parodi
it is now
mario
with his
parody
again
guitar strings
guitar strums
so
so spanish
my ears
jump
with joy
my ears
have kangaroo
feet
jumping with
joy
to the
skies
to the
hills
mario
parodi
and his
spanish notes
jumping like
fleas
from his
spanish guitar
my mind
has kangaroo
feet and jumps
and jumps
to
a great leap
the
great leap
that
soren
once
had in
norway.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spanish Winds
Spanish silver eyes dream of summer nights
Lovers entwined like cathedral candlelight
Brusque bas-relief pastels of open space
Poetry rhymes in cadence of world art
Pilgrims of fine luster from a grand age
Walk quietly amidst Mediterranean stars
Mountain villages rest serene by the sea
Preserved time felt keenly on every street
Barcelona is a vision that always haunts me
Picasso’s world where the old and new meet
Catalonia a separate place in space and time
Hear the tide roll and feel the fire of soul
Hemingway hears bells drinking Spanish wine
History and wars like visions of Goya grow
I sit by the sea listening to a Spanish Guitar
Singing like the winds of Madrid from afar
Tonight Spanish winds caress lover’s hearts
As we gaze at the wondrous light of the stars
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picasso's always been such a huge influence that I thought when I started the cartoon paintings that I was getting away from Picasso, and even my cartoons of Picasso were done almost to rid myself of his influence.
quote by Roy Lichtenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fractured Reality Picasso Clarification
No one can convey a fractured broken reality
as masterfully as Picasso
his Guernica render is the most realistic
rendering of media mediated Guera Guera
not his fault the consequences were surreal
Picasso is so broad a human no one should reduce
and cubic is perspective shift
put in a surreal 'ism'
Picasso is my enemy I will overcome him
so as to reduce his breadth
Cube(ism) is not an all inclusive stand
Picasso is my best friend
I will always admire him
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Cat
Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat
When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV
My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar
My cat
Cool cat
My cat is everywhere
Sees what he can see
He may not be an actor
He acts atrociously
My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar
My cat isn't crazy
He's everything to me
My cat burns the bible
And he thinks it's so funny
He isn't very good
He isn't very smart
He may not be Picasso
But he is a work of art
Hates me as much as I hate you
My cat
Cool cat
Good cat
Pussy cat
When I see him walking
Makes no sense to me
My cat is everywhere
We watch him on TV
My cat is amazing
He can play the guitar
He may not be an actor
But he's a pussy superstar
My cat isn't crazy
He's everything to me
My cat burns the bible
And he thinks it's so funny
He isn't very good
He isn't very smart
He may not be Picasso
But he is a work of art
My cat is handsome
He can play the guitar
He can break my arm in seven places
He can eat a whole watermelon
My cat my cat
song performed by by Jack Off Jill from Sexless Demons And Scars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Picasso Imaginable Thing...
two faces of a woman 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 32 AM
picasso 7: 32 AM
mooo 7: 32 AM
ah 7: 33 AM
is that what it is 7: 33 AM
pain and happiness? 7: 33 AM
wa ko kabalo ana 7: 33 AM
picasso has a painting of a woman with two faces 7: 33 AM
i hav seen picasso's work 7: 33 AM
havent you seen it? 7: 33 AM
never realized that 7: 33 AM
yes cubism 7: 33 AM
he explained that to me while we were in barcelona spain 7: 34 AM
(har har har) 7: 34 AM
hahahha 7: 34 AM
good one 7: 34 AM
poor bald picasso 7: 34 AM
travel jud ang mind 7: 34 AM
still having lots of erections despite his ugly legs 7: 34 AM
mao ba? 7: 35 AM
hoe did u know that/ 7: 35 AM
how 7: 35 AM
the indefatigable picasso 7: 35 AM
wow 7: 35 AM
we were in the brothels of paris with alexander pope 7: 35 AM
hahaah 7: 35 AM
mahilig jud ang artist no 7: 35 AM
honestly, i have the book 7: 35 AM
good 7: 36 AM
the writers in europe sometimes find themselved in reunion and communion with whores and drink red whores beer together 7: 36 AM
yes! Edgar Degas too 7: 37 AM
my fav
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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“Fredericksburg, Texas” (Summer 2006)
a warm July afternoon
a German biergarten
open café
a simple beer
Spaten
in a glass
you had water.
(beer makes you sleepy in the warm afternoon) .
there was red and white
cabbage, kraut, and kale.
the meat
bratwurst, kalburwurst, and rostbratburst.
served on a plate with cold cooked, sliced potatoes
I didn’t eat.
You had a Reuben with the same cold potatoes.
It didn’t matter.
We shared as we always do.
The music
on the stage
was one guitar
one musician
skillfully playing the blues.
(you know I love the blues)
and you smile
but
this is an afternoon with you
looking deeply in my eyes.
in the heart of Texas.
the hills of Texas.
and you sit there
thinking about us
the places we’ve been
together
in this small world
and
the places we’ll go.
poem by Keith Sutton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Deadmans Curve
The street was desserted late friday night
We were buggin each other while we sat out the light
We both popped our clutch when the light turned green
You should have heard the wine from my screamin machine
I flew past la brea, down to crescent heights
And all the jag could see were my six tail lights
He passed me at doheny and I started to swerve
But I pulled her out and there we were at deadmans curve
Deadmans curve is no place to play
Deadmans curve
Well, the last thing I remember doc.
I started to swerve, and then I saw the jag slide into the curb
I know Ill never forget that horrible sight
I found out for myself, that everyone was right
Wont come back from deadmans curve
Deadmans curve is no place to play
Deadmans curve you best keep away
Deadmans curve I can hear them say
Wont come back from deadmans curve
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paintings by fliss IV Painted Words
You take My words
Brushes in hand
Blank canvas on stand
The curve of a woman
The strings of rust
The weeping guitar
In your brushes you trust.
From my words you summon
And bring to life
The poems I write
Guitar fading
Waiting to be held
Your art works amazing
poem by Robert Green
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Picasso Paint Screams
Pablo Picasso moments
painted Spanish Civil War screams
Guernica shows tragedies
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Beloved Guitar
The long solid neck,
With flowing, refinded strings.
A base of cherry; finished wood.
Defined in figure, exquisite;
Among other things.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap.
I picked up my guitar,
And made my fingers tap.
A symphony from,
Those melodic strings.
Part of my hearts amour.
My fingers graze along,
This coppery and bronze decor.
A roughness they slide.
Along the ends;
Roughness on my fingertips.
A sliding; an arry of refreshing sounds.
One that echos into the bottem,
And emerges to astound.
My arm embraces the frame work,
A base of refined finished wood.
Tuned to a sound,
Like a guitar should.
My fingers cradle those melodic stings.
The light strum of my hand,
Makes music;
The guitar sings.
From the mouth of a speaker.
Out comes a tune.
With a cadence strum.
Fingers pressed down,
Out the music comes.
A symphony from,
This rhythmic harmony.
A tone in my soul.
A note that's always been apart of me.
A feeling I once knew.
I recall, a sound in the distance.
A beauty that plays so smooth.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap;
I picked up my guitar.
It slowly starts to come back.
That feeling, I'll never forget.
I recall, a sound not so far.
I recall, the feeling that day;
The day I picked up my beloved guitar.
poem by Jessie Jett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mamie in Malaga.
Mamie met you
in the base camp bar
in Malaga
her curly red hair
damp from a recent shower
and said
Picasso was born here
In this bar?
you said
No
she moaned
In the city
in 1881
and she took the drink
you'd bought her
I like Picasso don't you?
she asked
taking a sip
of the drink
and you noticed
the tight tee shirt
snugly holding
her firm breasts
and her eyes bright
as sunlight's breaking dawn
yes
you said
I like his later work
not the Blue
or Pink period or
that Cubist shite
and your eyes
slipped downwards
along her slender frame
the tight blue jeans
caressing her small
but plumpish ass
her fingers holding
the glass
and you thinking
of other things
far removed
from Picasso‘s art
though knowing he
would understand
where your mind
had wandered
and what the scene
your mind had set
like some dramatist
preparing for a play
she sipped more
of the drink
her head thrown back
the nice turn
of the neck
the chin
the nose
the ears protruding slight
between her red
and curly hair
and wondered deep
as you drank your own
if the other hair below
between her thighs
was as red and tight
as that above
and she said
breaking through
your thoughts
Was it lust or love
that moved his brush
Picasso I mean?
and oh you mused
taking on her words
and squeezing
the meaning
from each syllable
that was uttered
on her breath
to lay my head
upon her breast
not to sleep
but dreaming rest
and you turning to her
said High love or low lust
fed by his fond muse
moved his brush I trust.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My mother said to me, 'If you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope.' Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I was a child, my mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you'll be a general. If you become a monk you'll end up as the pope." Instead I became a painter and wound up as Picasso.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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