Posts tagged ‘art’
I love art & poetry…
Have a beautiful day, friends! ~ Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com
With a simple paintbrush he could see the horizon
that it was not a destination, but light between worlds,
a way of thinking really, bending colors, identifying
the softness. Just a hint of humans passing through
time, walking softly between colors and light.
A lot of blue with green, often a sky.
Poetry © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
image from pinterest
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“When we love people, we give them hope.”
183. Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? ~Walt Whitman
And this our life,
exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
sermons in stones,
and good in everything.
Standing beneath the Shumard Red Oak made me feel like I was standing in a temple of the Most High. The breeze was ruffling its leaves, and they in turn were prompting sacred tongues to utter incantations of their divine purpose. For though the leaves face eminent extinction and expulsion from the branches, in their dying they’ll fall and create warm blankets to cover the ground. In so doing they will protect the life that lies beneath the surface during winter’s cold, cold days. Even at the close of winter their goodness will not be at an end for as they deteriorate, the remaining bits and pieces will add nutrients to enhance the soil. Thus goes the circle of life and the interdependency of all…
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Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.
PAINTING: “Windy Night” by Marilyn Jacobson, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.
EDITOR’S NOTE: A fascinating project about Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) is currently in the works — a film about his life in San Francisco, with a screenplay by G.E. Gallas. Find out more at gegallas.wordpress.com.
Love T.S. Eliot. Just right for a windy night… Bette A. Stevens
- The Addressing of Cats, poem by T.S. Eliot (4writersandreaders.com)
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium…
Editor’s Note: “As a madman shakes a dead geranium” — what a stunning line! T.S. Eliot never ceases to amaze…
Read “Rhapsody on a Windy Night” in its entirety at poets.org.
Painting by Mike Grubb, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Find more of the artist’s work at fineartamerica.com.
Simply sensational pictures, beautifully captured in Ivon Prefontaine’s poetry!
- Picture Enjoyment in Poetry (paulmwenelupembe.wordpress.com)
Kathy’s niece took these pictures of boomers the other night west of Edmonton. Kathy and I talked about what we saw in the clouds. There is a lot in there and yesterday, as I walked, I understood clouds meaning something different during different seasons of life.
The spring of childhood,
Clouds were homes
My imagined friends
Came to life
Nursery rhymes, fairy tale, cartoons
People lived there.
A voice called: “Hurry home before it rains.”
Spring met summer
A single rain drop touched us
We discovered shelter
In each other
And laughed: “Let it rain.”
The dog days of summer arrived
I looked up
Storm clouds overhead
Please, I need to finish the lawn
Or there goes the BBQ tonight
I hear my voice: “Hurry home before it rains; so much to do.”
A safe distance
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