Best Artme Poems
You, monumental, pose inside the portrait,
In figure of a pyramid
Construed to be elite
Your right hand, rest above your left hand,
Hints that you're a virtuous woman,
With those slightly sullen arms,
I can tell, that you are pregnant,
Only to remind me, how powerful woman can be
As the carrier of humanity,
And that hermaphroditic posture advocates
A better balance gender,
A softer male and a stronger female,
In the midst of dreamy scene you are in,
What baffled me is your mysterious stare,
I know you have some secrets that you veiled.
They are perhaps as dark as your tunic,
Maybe as complicated as your plated dress,
And as intricate as circles patterned in your vest,
But your luminous skin revealed to me something
Of your resemblance to the phases of the moon.
New, half, full and new again
You are a girl, a woman,
And soon will be a crone,
They call you Lisa, yet you really are nameless,
You are in truth a woman, who is endless,
You always die and again always sprout back,
In each rebirth is an additional wisdom.
You are indeed older than the background
In which you are located,
And now at last I know your secret!
Your mystic smile is an expression
of the past time's foolishness.
You've seen me by a million names,
You've read all about my pain,
but do you understand me? Do you know who I really am?
My head is pounding slightly,
Sometimes I lose my eyesight,
my body likes to destroy me. It doesn't much care who I am.
My tears slide down my cheeks,
my knees are actin pretty weak,
but do you really know me?
My home life is a mess,
I fall in love deeply and get depressed,
I speak in flowing words as if everything were nature,
My eyes are ever changing, untrusting and availing,
leading me down whatever path I must,
I've been a broken doll,
I've been a caged animal,
A million different things,
But do you really know me
Im faceless, Ever changing in your dreams
Form:
Conception
There
In seconds words birth
A phrase laboring me to pen
Anticipation of a perfect offspring
Contraction squint the mind for me
That shudders a intent, until
It flops on the page, kicking
Father critic oversee sternly
At times pushing me to the side
I separate from a creator
A witness as it breathes
The air is a touch of Intellect, soft
It’s a raindrop in my lover eye
Or sharp carom in the back
Pain echoes for immortality
Joy wanting the freedoms lounge
Clarity in the pitch black
Or the divine shine,
Like the lamp beside me.
The sorrow is too much,
I just cant take it.
I need some kind of crutch,
something to break it.
Happiness escapes me,
there's nothing of the kind.
I must break free,
free my mind.
This needle does the trick,
Filled with bliss.
Just that little prick,
And life I'll never miss.
I'm not what i was,
Ive been beaten down,
And its all because,
That needle was found.
Anything for a fix,
Man i need that high.
Milligrams up to six,
As if i even try.
It seems now I'm down,
man I'm down.
Heroin's got me down,
so far down.
It's time for me to go,
And OD like Cobain.
Come and watch the show,
A needle in every vein.
They are always suffering
They don't deserve this
And neither do I
It kills me inside
That I can't help them
I need guidance
Show yourself to me
You're supposed to guide me
So why don't I hear you?
You claim to know so many things that I don't
And yet you give me no indication
Ever
That you exist
That you can help
Don't tell me I suffer by choice
Just tell me where to look
And what to do
For the solution to come
And the problem disappear
Forever and
Ever
They can't continue on much longer
I'm all they have
If I won't fix this no one will
I need to make a difference
I need to have faith
Painting tapestries in awesome colors,
Beautiful mountains and skies of blues,
Such unique and wonderful painter that
He was
Painting was his whole world
And shared it he wanted it, and did it
All with you and me
Loving nature and flowers too,
Nursing little creatures back to
Life,
But especially he loved and cared,
I know he did,
For people just like... me and you,
Motivated everybody how to paint,
With his very rich and soft
Voice,
Always the believer, in his kinded
Heart,
That anyone believing and trying
Could also learn how to paint
And that everything that you create,
It is your own world as you see it and paint
It you can as you perceive it with your heart
And eyes
For me his shinning spirit,
Will always live and move on,
Gracing and warming every single heart
And every home,
Indeed for me he's here to stay,
With his big heartwarming smile and
Endearing passion and inspiration,
To be forever cherished and treasured
And as the majestic sea that he liked
So much to also paint,
His wonderful legacy will live on and
Continue to ever grow,
And as the sands upon warm beaches
Also his wonderful painter's spirit
All over the earth
Will move all the waves
At sea forever and ever
On!
BORROW MY FINGERS’ VOICE
. . . . .` ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ . . . . .
could you, Monet...borrow my fingers’ voice
as my desire runs through your pastel bones?
and in your artist’s blood i mix...by choice
the oiled smudge of me in these dusking tones
through joys and moans, is there time to rejoice,
to sketch love’s hand, though inks plummet as stones?
on canvas, a trace of me will remain
i am the sky, the elements, the crane
ottava rima
all rights reserved
©
--for Brian Strand’s Any 2,4,6 or 8line form—
-- by nette onclaud
That I sit in this studio, is because "Sendah" came to me in a dream.
"Cheater" said he would cheat me out of a good life, if I did not paint him.
Cautiously I tried, but could not do him justice.
Always when he looked, he took a color away from me.
Ninety times, Soon I was left with just carbonated charcoal.
Now he had stripped me of my expression.
Oral voice had taken my joy in vermillion.
Nightly. he split in half, my face, and wrote war on my forehead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was torn and angry.
I sketched him and he was immortalized, but I kept it.
He had nothing, but effort to look at.
***WON 4TH PLACE IN THE CONTEST***
______________________________________
"SELF PORTRAIT" about "ZERO_HERO"
entered in Native American Ekphrasis contest
http://www.tccannon.com/art.html
The poem is divided because the first half is Acrostic
I got a keyboard...
...I hope I try at this.....
....that I try and I don't stop trying....
cause that's what I do.... I sample...
...never eating more than a few bites and stopping after a good taste...
....but now Im starving... Im ready for a meal....
I am master of nothing... nothing...
I give up early because its no joy to suck at things...
...humble beginnings lead my ego to generate pain....
...pain that comes from not being better at learning...
....you know, Im much worse at learning than I used to be....
it has me feeling less than..... creating dislike....
....and the dislike of this process develops a heavy resistance...
....which overrides the gift of patience for growth because of its intensity...
....and the whole deal becomes unattractive...
....then this fresh baby passion dies under the rath of uncomfortable emotions...
....and I move on to the next trade....
...with hopes that maybe the next time that it'll be different...
...its always been this way...
...it leaves me longing...to never keep trying means to never have...
...and I haven't had.... I haven't had for a very long time...
Inspired by live event
on Ramblas Boulevard, Barcelona
Barcelona… Summer raining night…
Gentle shower sprinkles down the faces.
In the whole world the only light:
It comes straight to me from Spanish Artist spaces.
He is so much tired of hard work.
He would take a nap in cozy house
And exchange soft brush to metal fork,
But he’s painting me in blue silk blouse.
He is sketching portraits day by day,
Everything he sees - it’s his addiction.
People walking, watching, by the way,
Making stories of his talent’s fiction.
Someone is just simply passing through,
Floating like a shadow by his chair.
Someone is composing a review:
Model and his work to be compared.
He is living in his special world,
There is no path to his possession.
There are no idols, money, gold,
All his movements followed by compassion.
He is calm and shy, not recognized,
Taking masks away from people faces.
All his life, the strangers realize,
Puzzled on the easel of oil laces.
People singing, swinging in the dance.
Sounds of music made by Jazz musicians.
Taro cards predict you nice romance,
All you need - just simple recognition.
You can see so much of magic blast
At this time on Ramblas Boulevard raining.
It’s your future, present, it’s your past
And it will be in your heart remaining.
You are running off the horse’s coach
And your soul comes extremely tender.
You can be so easily approached,
You don’t mind becoming a surrender.
Barcelona… Sunday raining night…
So much noise from each and every chartist.
There is no one in the evening light:
Only Me and Special Spanish Artist…
Refrain:
Barcelona, Barcelona – you are beautiful Madonna.
You are crystal constellation, you are my imagination.
You will be with me forever, I will not forget you, never.
Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona…
Wrote in July 2006 in Russian
Translated into English in August 2008
Geoffrey gave me an exquisite book
For Christmas.
It is a showcase of the work of
Hundert Wasser - the great Viennese artist,
Architect and visionary.
The jewel colours, the gracious curves -
No straight lines here to sicken
Humankind.
The environmentalist obeying
Natural Law to create spaces
That nurture - not the 'bleeding houses'
Made of rectangles
The insult of the straight line -
Alien to organic forms -
Transmitting alarm signals to the brain.
The blues, reds and oranges combined with yellow greens
Soothe the soul and stimulate the senses.
They jump out at me
Invigorate and excite me -
Inspire a rebelliousness against angles
Harsh lines and grey.
WORDS SO SWEET.
Cultivating from this tangerine
Tree
Liquid recipe, her content carry's
Pedigree,
Green shaped leaf is my identity.
What is time without the latitude
Of man's mind?
Am surprised, this ordinary ink
Begins to see things.
Follow me on this trace into
Unlimited might, lighting sign's
Apostles of translucent sight.
Today you read Words So Sweet,
As sentences duplicates into
Centuries
Not speaking of her voluminous
Territory
Basically her harvested energy
Equals particles of spiritual
Clergy.
You my darling so sweet,
I prostrate murmuring indefinite
Blessings,
Never have I pictured you in a
Coffin
Stand by me when am coughing
Become my hobby,
I hear your voice even when you
Say noting.
Accept this infant milk from
A mother to feed her pretty
Daughter at age two,
I mount my back for you
To scale through.
Let Wrinkles never beautify
Your face
Dark and fair will definitely
Read this page.
Poetry was created for you
Never to hate
WORDS SO SWEET is a stage,
To you who love's and see
To the growth of wisdom in
Every adorable medium,
Poetry is my name.
Habib Akewusola.
SAMIRA
Samira,
The beauty of 3 arts
General with elegance,
Enigma without resemblance
You should have called
Before you left this earth,
Cousin to Maryam, owner of
My heart.
Ha Samira believer of Mosha
I loved your dressings during
Socials,
I recollect the afternoon you
Said I should never be sober,
I wish I saw death hanging on
Your shoulders,
Tell me why tears shouldn't be
My roster?
Too early call, no reason to
Rejoice
I now fear this air
I don't know when she will stop
Been my friend,
Keep me among the dead
Everyone has a place of rest.
No ceremony for the dead.
Rest Samira Jibril.
habib akewusola
I dont know what i feel when you hold my hand, still i love it
There is a dream in your eyes that i want to see become real
I cant promise you a perfect world, nor a perfect verse, but my heart
Waves of color come splashing upon your canvas, paint then to us
Let my words be the guide of your heart, as your eyes are for me
The past scenes leave me, slowly they become nothing, tomorrow it's you and me
Let us discover the true meaning of love, and what it is to be in joy
Your curly hair smells like roses, and the way it feels makes me dream
When you near me, my heart races, and i cant help it but to stutter
Please mind me not, it's a part of me i cant control
Your beauty is enchanting, and i slowly loose my self yet again in hope
you are a beautiful woman, one that has goals and interest of a better scene
Speaking your mind entirely, i know i can learn how to love
I promise you yesterday will never be again for me, today and forward i am free
Eager to know more about the wonderful person that you are, please let me
Let my voice enter your heart, and yours has entered me
You are truy amazing, let us then hold eachother as we enter tomorrow
To you: Vanessa
GHOST ON FACEBOOK.
Kindly search for Lady Angelica
Chase
You would fill this an element of
My craze
She messages me only on
Sundays,
As her profile picture still remains
Naked
Covered in black lace,
That my eyes continues to strain.
Every time I search for her updates
Imagine, the screen says,
No search found, is this the name
For a label or place.
My confusion has become elaborate
These page messages me only on
Sabbath days,
Suddenly she fades that none
Will ever trace.
Her friends list are only eight
Females,
Three's profile pictures are very faint
Her remaining's status is always the
Same,
“Darkness is my age
For my forgiveness is delivered
In pain”.
These five are all namesakes
Same age,
Different images but the same grade.
Your enjoyment is all I aim,
Sure you enjoyed this fiction of
A poets brain,
Words so sweet is my name,
Since poetry has been laid
None knows my duplicate.
Habib Akewusola.