Quotes about canvass, page 8
Vivaldi, concerto for flute
Children playing on a green playground
Mothers watching
Closely watching
The faces of children
Smiling
Cool air
Green leaves brown leaves yellow leaves
Soft wind
Leaves falling down to the slow soft wind
Children running
Chasing each other
They are playing
A mother feels the soft wind
Cool air
And sees the trickles of leaves
Blending green brown yellow
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Opus
There was a widow pianist
Who plays most pristinely
That would drag your feet
Into an emollient waltz
But you would never hear
The banshee caterwauling;
His opus.
There was a limped painter
Who paints in fluid levity
That extends such gaiety
To purge the ashen scene
But you would never see
The withering canvass;
His opus.
There was a smug architect
Who design most intricately
That your eyes and mouth gape
Musing in an ornate beauty
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poem by Norman Santos
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Fade To Black
You can break my heart
but it is a heart
only you can fix.
You can cut me with a word
but ironically
only your words can heal.
You can walk away
and you can come back.
I can talk insistently
but you can sooth
my rough talk.
I sometimes curse the thought of you
and you can make that curse turn to honey.
Solving this dilemma though
only I can do that.
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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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NatUre - - - speaks! ! !
(Monday, July 21,2008* A poem I created as a tribute to nature and to arts I am with.)
Have you seen a bamboo?
The tallest grass ever exist,
Dancing and bending and swaying...
Whistling upon nature's grace?
Have you seen a woman,
Standing beneath heavy rains and winds;
And thunders and lightnings that flashes,
Enduring and firmly believing,
That she can surpass everything?
Have you seen a canvass,
With nature's subject on it;
I can figure it very well;
Like having a withering bamboo and teary woman on it?
Nature..nature..hear InNer WhisPers' cry...
May you strongly fight as I fight;
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poem by InNer WhisPers
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Second Round Ok
Why shooting from far? like women
dropp your gun let hit the ring and
throw punches for fun, i promise you
second round ok.Bang bang it
sound like a gun shot, but that
is the sound of my punches. I
got the move of Ail, the raw of
Tyson, harder than the klitschko
brothers.You will be drow in my
ocean of punches, after one round
you will be punching the air cos your
eyes will be fold.30 second into
the second round i can see you
staggering cos you are intoxicate
from my punches.you are in my
jungle and you are not going same
man cos your mouth will be broken
you face full of blood, black face shall
go with it.haahaa! why making love
to my canvass? .I got the braging
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poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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Rainpictures On Glass Canvass...
Watching th' ever sadness, of th' rain....am i
Listening to it speak......between its torrents
On winded wings it strikes defenseless sod
Yet, thru these window panes of fog'n streak
I open th' Pandora's Box....natures teary fall
Water paint images streak th' clouded glass
Like an abstract, surrealistic...faux-pas finish
Streetlights, like spotlite...on a fresh Picabia
Before my watchful mind, th' picture changes
Kaleidoscopic lines invent.....with criss-cross
Some say: ''a picture paints a thousand words''
If true, th' artistry of rain, paint thousands more
Radiance of window panes adorned in nature
And, on th' other side...a smiling child marvels
With fingers pressed on fogged glass canvass
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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A Poem That Peeked Within
where do i belong
i seem to ask myself
more often than ever
as i float on the surface
of a yet to be titled world
i attempt to rise
above the familiar and not so familiar
world of your perennial touch
thinly poised on the cycle of birth and death
but only end up as an insubstantial shadow
on the fading life line
at the level crossing
as thousand hands
prepare to undress me
throwing up the ugliness
of the cactus hidden within
between the covers of
this dispassionate musings
that in general parlance
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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With Love Chikwado
WITH LOVE
CHIKWADO
When the stars tell
The chimes of bell
And rivers drink
The shred of sinks
In an ocean across drops
A new life dies and sprout
When the night falls at day
And the candle light remains at bay
A new song I chant
By the dawn of ant
In a group of sorrow
Pains beyond life's row
When the sky bleeds
In sunny heavenly seeds
Your name plays a rhyme
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poem by Venessa Ambrose
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A Night Poem
Last night
Staccato stride
Of silent thoughts
That occupied the vacant mind at sleep
Threw me into a strange state
Thoughts I couldn’t identify
Kept hitting at the fluid brain-walls
Like small pebbles hurled by
A little boy into a stagnant puddle just like that
Each ripple catapulted me into
An indescribable state of nightmare
At some corner of the blank space
A faceless you stood there
Watching me break into a cold sweat
And running and running in vain
I stood there vulnerable and fixed
In spite of my running endlessly…
Through the abstract images
Of rocky cliffs, tree-tops, curling seas
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poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Watching Everything Go And Leave
I let my emails accumulate like
Paper stacks
Unread. I just let them be themselves.
I let the hours pass away.
No questions asked. I let people go by
No reminders.
I let the roads take their curves and
Take their own travels.
I let things grow by themselves.
Above the sky expands.
Like a notebook, like a canvass.
I let the night come.
And be the mouth
To eat the stars out.
I let everyone arrive, and one by one
I let everyone go.
I let the wave come ashore and
Curl upon themselves and then
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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