Artiste Poems - Poems about Artiste

Artiste, she paints in breathless strokes, Dedicated to the art, the flow, Colors alive, blushing in bold and bashful caresses, Lifting the heart, soothing as laughter. Artiste, she splatters the canvas with hope, Grace captured on the bare canvas, Home to so many dashes of light, vibrant and bright, Quieting the darkness, pouring love out – magnificent! Artiste, she renders the music over...

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He spoke to the sun Brought the light to glowing Revealing all the earth With its many splendors showing Mysteries beyond belief He whispered the trees Into expectant existence The birds, butterflies and the bees The joy, faith and promise Even their fantasies He breathed life into man Gave woman her energy Handed them nature and wildlife With the promise of a seed Who would be the child of...

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Lingering laughter brings out loving lines Within writings which echo warm, wild words Music - melodies moisten melted minds Feelings of hearts who flow furiously Soothing silence, semblance - with sensations Praises, prayers, poems who penetrate Attracting aloneness of the artiste March 24, 2021 ...

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SUPPORTING ARTISTE When I used to tell people I was a film extra, or ‘supporting artiste’ as we preferred to be called, they would say, “How glamorous, mixing with all those stars.” But, of course, the reality is not like that. You get up at 3.00 am in the middle of winter, scrape the ice off...

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I am The Artiste. I draws lines by cutting carcasses, among other things. I am the crazed dancer, down pouring a diaspora of red essence and entrails as I sporadically spin. I am the antagonist; the anti-hero jester with a ricin covered knife. It’s poisoned point thrusted through regal robes; to rest in the fief, flesh and fealty...

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People sing in praise of a lead performer; And the person playing the second fiddle Often goes unsung and unhonoured. That is the fate of all such auxiliary artistes, say, A guitarist strumming the chords— To keep up the rhythm Or, as typically in India, The tambura player, providing the continuous harmonic drone, Which no electronic substitute Can possibly offer— Not to the...

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SPEECHLESS SPOKEN WORD ARTISTE So if my vocal folds can’t collaborate to produce sounds to communicate loudly to your beautiful mind that I have an endless mission of loving you, can’t there be any mere articulation in my vocal tract to do that? What are my tongue, lips, alveolar ridge, hard palate and velum doing? I...

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The life of an artiste is not a flowing river but an accumulation of its sediments, to give fertility for nature to grow. This fertility is an art of an artiste. An artiste cannot let go a single fragment of the moments and repressed emotions gathered over the times of the childhood innocence and hard realizations....

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Artiste Artiste But JUDGE please I'm an Artiste. The only thing that eye am guilty of is loving my country and my flag and having a strong sense of school spirit. The Judge pondered long and hard and looked so intense it unnerved the bailiffs' wife. “Graffiti is a crime” the JUDGE intoned...

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