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Art Ode Poems | Ode Poems About Art

These Art Ode poems are examples of Ode poems about Art. These are the best examples of Art Ode poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Ode |

To Duke

I woke up from the cradles of slumber
My morning eyes opened slowly
My mind frolicked and sang with peace
Remembering your words 
So kind, so memorable were they!
So sweet, so genuine are you!
The mere thought of you takes away the assertive blue

It is a wonder I have come across your mind
It is a blessing like no other—a true, treasurable find!
And there are no words that can truly give you the honor you deserve
But take these, please!
And know there is so much more. . .
So much more that I wish to offer you

Your never-ending thoughtfulness and attention
Has filled me with unremitting appreciation
You really are a beautiful light to my world
Cheering my melancholy with joy
I have never found someone quite like you
And that is the beauty of it all
Finding the gold
The sunlight smiling for your marvelous shine
Finding truth
There is just no other like you!
I would never turn my eyes away
There is just no possible way

That is a blessing I count close to the heart
Finding you, such a rare piece!
Finding you in a churning world of excitement and chaos
Finding you with such delight and gratitude

Thank you so much, Duke!
Thank you for being you!

-Dedicated to a very fine poet named Duke Beaufort-


Details | Ode |

Renaissance Reed

     Lou Reed , Mistral of his time
     so you walked this road on the wild side
     unique in music , never selling out 
     believing in Art instead of commercialize
     
     Lou Reed the musician never compromised ~
     Sweet Jane not enough for our crowd of eccentric rockers 
     still will live forever with the many that left before you
     one can imagine from John Lennon to Johnny Ramone 

     a party in Heaven of the finest rock bestowed 
     no text , no MTV when they pursued a dream 
     New York, hotel Chelsea an age of Renaissance
     ragged jeans and leather jackets ,Art on stage  

     No, your Rock not ever fade away , it will stay sweet Jane forever ~

      For the fine Man with words , ode to Lou Reed .

     

     
     



Details | Ode |

VIVA LA ELVIS - Abridged Version

VIVA LA ELVIS

In Tupelo Mississippi, twin baby boys were born,
To Gladys and Vernon Presley, but sadly one passed on.
They named him Jesse Garon, their hearts so full of pain,
And then came Elvis Aaron, a breath of sweet refrain.

One heart beating for the two, their spirits intertwined;
To restore faith and hope and joy to dear ones left behind.
Elvis grew from babe to boy his heart set on a goal,
From boy to man to legend; The King of Rock n’ Roll.

He lived in humble dwellings, his Pa his Ma and he;
Playing his guitar, singing songs, pure golden melodies.
Country, Gospel, Blues and Jazz the rhythms of the soul,
And Rock n’ Roll, the very core of hearts both young and old.

While rising up to stardom, his pelvis did he swing;
Some church folk banged the gavel to crucify ‘The King’.
Their efforts came to nothing, as fans from near and far,
Surged on with huge momentum, to win that holy war.

So once again he stood there, gyrating at his will,
Until the day he heard a call that made those hips stand still.
Called to serve his country, the nation’s rising star,
And while along that journey, he sadly lost his Ma.

On the first of May, a bride’s bouquet, a blush of summer wine,
Elvis wed Priscilla; his beautiful fraulein.
Soaring in her lover’s arms on the wings of destiny,
Nine months later they were blessed with gorgeous Lisa Marie.

The happiness they shared together wrapped in melody;
Like a poet’s dream, a symphony, a lover’s rhapsody.
Then fate stepped in and dealt a blow that tore the dream apart,
And in its wake it left a trail of tears and broken hearts.

‘The King’, on stage and silver screen, he took the world by storm,
A real hunk of burning love in a GI uniform.
He rocked the house to loud applause, he played the matador,
And  danced with pretty Hula girls in the Hawaiian sunset glow.

August 16, ’77 was the day ‘The King’ had died,
But forever lives the Legend, born on 8/1/35.
His mamma smiled and gently beckoned to her second born,
While holding close the one she’d lost that fateful winter’s morn.

The joy he brings to us down here can never be replaced,
Though many keep on trying in vain to fill the empty space.
His spirit fills all Graceland, to watch o’er kith and kin,
In the Heavenly sounds of Dixieland … I hear God joining in.

Elaine Randolph
Copyright ©2009 Elaine Randolph


Details | Ode |

If I had to paint a picture of me loving God what would I see

If I had to paint a picture of me loving God what would I see?
would I see a portrait of a person who walks in truth and honesty?

In order to paint a picture of me loving God 
I would have to access all the experiences that to me life did impart
did I have a good relationship with my mom and my dad?
was it loving and supportive or distant and sad?
did I get along with my siblings? did we look out for each other?
did we play and love each other like true sisters and brothers?
were my needs being meet? did I ever learn to trust and believe?
am I balanced enough to cope according to the lessons in life I've received?

Multi-generational, familial or systemic social receptions
all of this has played a part in my life perceptions
we all have distortions in every aspect of our living
we now must deal with the reality at this time we've been given

was my life exactly as I remember? or are there things that I've repressed?
are there issues that are buried inside me that now make me depressed?
deep-seated anxiety, personal pain and high expectations
feelings of inadequacy, destructive criticism and bouts of frustration
we all have issues that we now need to bring out and discuss
in order to have authentic relationships we need to have real trust
we all have some brokenness that needs to be healed 
so that our full love for the Lord God can one day be revealed

God is not distant like a CEO in the corporate tower
God is not pressuring us with His omnipotent power
God does not keep score He just watches over our souls
God is fair and just and doesn't set for us high goals
God is all embracing He nurtures, instructs and forgives
He's kind, patient and loving in this life to us He did give  

So if I had to paint a picture of what it looks like for me to love God
it would be a colorful canvas of emotions, perceptions and reflections from my heart


Details | Ode |

One september morn

She was afraid and all alone.
Her heart breaking
as it beat for only him.
She felt her life was empty
and lonely all around.
Sometimes she would sit and cry
for dreams that couldn't be found.
My best friend.
Someone I shared my thoughts with,
told secrets to,
even fought with.
Sweet little Missy.

Then one morning she was gone.
My heart froze in fear
and for her I would shed one last tear.
I'll never know why she left,
why she couldn't stay.
God grant me one more day.
Now she talks to angels 
on her stairway to heaven.


Details | Ode |

Ode to Tai-Ana at Age Ten and Far Away

			1

Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still burn
thine absence half a decade spent in vain
to break the bonds that tie, that fett’ring chain
that holds me from embracing  thee, thyself  in turn.

Thine all enchanting smile, piercing eyes–
thy flailing arms, the limbs, with rhythmic stroke – 
responses soundless to the silent words I spoke
to thee before from thee Fate forced me from thy cries.

I watched thee grow through temp’rate times of yore – 
remembering the gall’ry of my mind.

‘Twas all I had.
			
			2

Oh, gentle child, how doth my heart still ache
thy presence all too far in distant land
where careless arms push thee with calloused hand
away from mine where once I swore thee none could take.

Thine eyes with tears I shared I shed alone
so thou might never feel the agony
the anguish, loss of my identity,
thy father, thee my offspring, daughter, dearest one.

I watched thee grow through chilling times, and more – 
remembering thy portrait in my mind.

‘Twas all I had.

.			3

Oh, gentle child, how doth my soul yet yearn
those many hours oft upon my breast
thy head thou laid safe harbor for thy rest,
thy questions,  mind alert, thy hungering to learn.

Thy voice I hear through dreams and zephyr breeze,
thou lark by morn by eve the nightingale,
as Dawn and Dusk, Aurora without fail,
thou hast my heart and soul kept warm with ease.

I watch thee grow, and will,  forever more – 
remembering thy sculpture in my mind.

‘Tis all I have.

		4

Until we are as one renewed
some future date somewhere awaits
when thou her servant dare to flee 
that which with thee so long accrued
where here I love and there she hates
that wily witch who bindeth thee. 

Break loose those  prison bars that bind
thy tired wings that flap in vain – 
Renew thy pledge at length to find
thy youthful freedom once again.
Then shalt thy flags fly high aloft
while eagles scream thy freedom song,
while robins chirp with redbreast, soft – 
all a capella – pure and long.

Then both our souls shall share their peace,
a father and his daughter, found
to spend their lives on borrowed lease
to live and die on hallowed ground.

Thus, take, Tai-Ana, this, my prayer
that fathers and their children hear
of this solemnity
that children here and everywhere
ne’er shed a sad though soulful tear
for all eternity.

[Finis]


Details | Ode |

Ode to lines

I cling to the tangibility of paper
its connection to earth, 
the feel of the grain 
on the skin. 
Words do not exist 
thanks to the mashing 
of keys and buttons, but by providence
of the paper. 
The forgotten paper
is still alive. Soft
and crumpled 
yellowed with age. 
Though forgotten
never erased. Never
extinguished.

I do not bleed red
cells but globules
of words, coagulated
phrases and lines.
The pen is a prosthesis,
supplementing blood 
where soft flesh leaves prints-
other swirled lines an whirls.
The pencil 
whispers
words,
lightly brushes her lips
against slate, 
ever the timid lover. 
Even when erased 
the word is 
forever imprinted, its curvatures
embedded in the soft 
fiber of the page. 

The screen
is an evil thing; coveting
its symbols and codes. 
It hides
away your words,
entombs them 
behind an electric moon.
When the screen dies
so do your musings.


Details | Ode |

A MIRROR OF ME

DARKNESS ONLY PREVAILS FOR A WHILE
BUT LIGHT EVENTUALLY PREVAILS FOREVER
THE REVENGE OF AN EMBITTERED WOMAN 
IS MORE THAN THE FURY OF A THOUSAND ARMY
THERE ARE WOMEN OF SUBSTANCE 
AND THERE ARE WOMEN OF SUPERLATIVE SUBSTANCE
IN SIZE WE GROW
IN WISDOM WE SURPASS
HE WHO CAN FLY
NEEDS NOT FLYING WHISKERS
FOR A SHORT WHILE ALONE
DOES INIQUITY REIGN


I  AM MY HUSBANDS PILLAR
A SHELTER FOR MY CHILDREN
AN ENVY OF ALL NATION
A SYMBOL OF CREATION
AN ENDURER OF PAIN
THE PATIENT DOG IN HUMAN FORM
A MORTAL AMONG IMMORTALS
A VISION BEYOND THE PRESENT
I AM A VIRTUOUS WOMAN
A HEIRESS
A LEADER
A GREAT INSTRUMENT
A COMPLETION OF CREATIONS
MIGHTY IN MY OWN WAY.


Details | Ode |

Ode To Fireworks

It is such great unity
That appears amongst the beauty
Of the bright light display?
Such colour, such energy within celebration,
Such a vivid canvas of man-made creation
That sparks with flair and passion;
To fall into the fog
Like all dying illusions.

Yet it is what it does for us:
Where we are drawn from our furnishings
That we clean in intervals,
Closing outside to a regular schedule,
Remaining well lit and sheltered
Resting our minds so dimly upon the
Soft and empty cushions
And hugging at the blind comfort
Of cover.

We are drawn from this facade
By another in itself.
Which brings us out like a beacon
Part Devil, half Eden
To then fade away
Like all illusions,
Leaving us quiet,
Revealing deepened images.
Exposed to chill
Peace climbs through our bones.

Let us stand together,
Embrace
The great power that connects us;
The great unity
Amongst such beauty.

Till we once more return home…


Details | Ode |

Ode to my son

Son,
these words of my heart 
will neither come out of pity
nor will go down the wind
nor, again, will build any city.
But lend me your ears, baby,
and listen to what an old man
can say despite the rods of men.


Live up to your own ambitions.
Keep your heart alive
and your mind working 
with honor and passion.
Take this over from my heart
that has suffered for so long.


Son, 
There is always a good thing 
to think of and to do 
instead of fruitless tarrying. 
Let not the cold world 
affect you and do its worst.
there is always something
good to be done against it. 


Son, 
be careful of those people 
who call themselves your friends, 
your enemies are known.
They both have not become 
what they have become
only because the mind, without
the heart, sees differences
and builds on them obstacles
to divide rather than unite.
They used, it is gone now, to be
your friends and the circle
the circle is open and far from full.

Son,
When the light and the sun rays 
are leaving, remember to perceive
the natural attitude and substance
of daffodils and innocent flowers.
Hide your tears, baby, from men
and let them fall alone to freshen
the sight of your eyes and vision.
Open your inward eyes of Earth and Eden.


Son,
Be always on the move 
and fear not the elements 
of submission and contrition. 
The light is coming in
and love is all around you.
Fear them no more.


Bring yourself to accept
your destiny and look at
the horizons of your heart
to improve your tools 
and feel the power of patience
and reap the harvest of resistance. 
So much depends on them, 
so much depends on you. 


Have time to work, son,
and have time to play. 
Seek to be simple
and look up at
the sunny sphere
without a pair of glasses 
Your eyes are for Earth and Eden 
Keep them pure and undefeated.


But see !!
When the rain comes
as it will in autumn and spring,
summer and winter, son,
don't rush to get an umbrella
and cover your head like many
of them would do and would not.


You already have more than it
your smile can make it 
and the flowers around you
will make it and come along 
to live with you and teach you
how to be yourself and be
one sunny day, to your sons
and daughters, little son,
the father my father
has never been for me. 

Chokri Omri

" L'amour a besoin des yeux, comme la pensée a besoin de la mémoire. "


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