Best Painterly Poems
The beauteous moon lustres amongst glowing
celestial fires in the vault of heaven.
Shining for you.
You with your gifted ink flowing
on a white abyss, your thoughts pure and unstained.
Painterly with colours of the heart that
bears witness to the sweetest kingdom,
for whom romance lyrically waltzes with grace
serenaded by a honeyed euphony
perchance seeking a kindred soul.
Penned sonnets of true love journey
forth on angels wings that
sprinkle stardust in her eyes
melting into tears of innocent yearnings.
Soft whisperings caress her
cheek with your sweet invisible breath.
Words prompt forgotten dreams now
undisguised. Losing herself to her muse who's
passion for prose enraptures her being.
Her gratitude flooding for such resplendent verse.
So direct was Jackson Pollock
giving the art world quite a shock
Art with no beginning & no end
he established an artistic trend
Pollock impulsively hurled his paint
making spots&splatters quite quaint
Action painting novel& new
arrested moments out of the blue
painterly picturesque it ain't
Jackson opened the 'abstract ' door
laying the canvas on the floor
The creator of 'drip' 'flick' and 'stick'
spontaneity was his artistic trick
Slow motion,descending & suspended
in space.Caught in the daydream,this
rainbow of the mind,distracted blurs
of destiny’s tears through the looking glass
and landscapes of the mind.A personal
portrait,a painting of passion pulsating
in a manicured dream of private fantasy.
Painterly hues splashed & without direction
and uncontrolled zest.A collection of the
soul in a patchwork quilt of lost love,
reflected & mirrored in the heart.
Illusions,symbols of childhood,
coloured filled swathes of painterly
hues.A private fantasy in slow
motion suspended in space.An
abstracted blur in flashbacks of
yesteryear,caught in a daydream.
Half Empty, 2011
Vickie M. Ortiz Vazquez
To describe oneself, what question must be asked?
One driven by reality?
Philosophy?
To speak of the physical beauty that resembles humble being
“Beauty is where you find it” sings Madonna
Should I bomb descriptive words which stop at physical characteristics?
For while my cup is half empty, hers is half full
Driven by beauty standards
Unheard off
Reality just to those with wealth
Illusionist balancing individual’s self-esteem
Through the cut
Thread together; million dollar hands
Is my glass really half empty?
“Beauty is where you find it” sings Madonna
Should I painterly describe the beauty walking alone?
The one not understood
Unique
Hidden behind leaves, thorns
Casted aside because she lacks size zero
Trying to fit in yet not in her clothes
Trap
To be or not to be
One’s self that is
Casted aside because she speaks her lingo
Forceful to protect
Hidden behind hurtful words, thoughts
Survival skills gone
Or, is it?
Social interaction forgotten
Silenced
Casted aside because she mirrors society’s wrongfulness
Body scan reveals six distinctive colors
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple
Blues streaming constantly
A cut
Deep red spills
So, I ask; to describe one’s self what question must be sought?
The reviewers considered his latest exhibition:
They said it was cutting edge
They said it defies all perception
The exploration of the negative spaces challenges the mind
Some said mind blowing
Some said life changing
The still life quality was shattering
Wonderful and interesting use of the media
At times parts seemed to be borrowed from the impressionists
but with great discretion and reflecting the earlier painterly strokes of the masters
One critic said superlative usage of perspective
stunning aesthetics and energy showing great creativity
Others said emotional, profound, highly figurative
with deepening disproportions of aesthetic consciousness
in the abstract elements
Tonal values consistent with the real life form
The artist brings the viewer face to face with his own preconceived hierarchy of cultural values and assumptions of artistic worth
A visual investigation into the human condition inspiring contemplation and sensitive exploration of quotidian life
The artist is forging an attempt of captivating exploration of forces of nature and the passage of time through his often poetic interventions into natural and absurd man-made environments
The plaudits and adjectives were endless - breathtaking, awesome, existential, non-formulaic
What do they know?
I thought it was pretentious derivative crap
Full of pious claptrap, conceptualised dialogue and non-originality
Oh God, now I am beginning to sound like them!
LANTERNE PHRASIS 1
A childhood flashback,a yesterday dream
symbols from the clutter of life,in
slow motion,descending & suspended
in space.Caught in the daydream,this
rainbow of the mind,distracted blurs
of destiny’s tears through the looking glass
and landscapes of the mind.A personal
portrait,a painting of passion pulsating
in a manicured dream of private fantasy.
Painterly hues splashed & without direction
and uncontrolled zest.A collection of the
soul in a patchwork quilt of lost love,
reflected & mirrored in the heart.
From my Lanterne poetry publication 2005
Listen to me recite this part phrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthys chiro
("Conceived in Light", 2017, original encaustic)
Magenta is a mouthful of a name
To describe a color rich in contrast.
It’s a type of purple
Half way between red and blue
And as such is a union of opposites
Like those Southern states in transition
As they fill up with self-exiled Californians.
Except colors are beautiful
And can actually coexist
In a celebration of diversity
Unlike humans who have now reached
The beheading stage of
“Diversity is our strength”.
But I digress…
Magenta brings up such ideas
Of a conflict of visions
Because of the hidden words within it;
Ma for mother
Gent for gentleman and the final
A or even Ta as in, so be it.
But the name is actually for a place
And 1859 battle in Italy
Where the Austrians were defeated
And Italians furthered their independence.
In every conflict,
Even within something as simple as a color,
There is a winner and loser,
But there is also the opportunity for harmony
A true blending of the opposites
Into something greater than the parts.
So it is with this fancy named purplish hue
The union of lady and gentlemen more pink than blue
Wonderful and bright, gay and bold
With no need to say more if truth be told.
(6/13/26)
chuck close used a painterly style
photo faces with abstract guile
George Stubbs uniquely fine
in painting all things equinine
Georgia O' Keefe so novel so new
flowered in an intimate close-up view
POINTS of REFERENCE
reinventing
tradition
on display
undeniably
arresting
at
making waves
defined
in
the contemporary
&epitomises
in
bedecked settings
deliberately
elongated
unresolved
& unravelled
happening
prominence
of
the
touchstones
the
of
the
explicit
both
intense
&passionate
with flashes
of
fixating
on
the
fascinating
composition
of the bespoke
that intersect
astonishingly diverse
& paradoxically
sense
of
the
cool aesthetic
simultaneously
painterly
offsets
the conceptual
elaborate
&
equivalent
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
I
through the looking glass
suspended in space.
caught in a daydream
blurred by destiny’s tears
II
a personal portrait
a painting of passion
pulsating with a manicured
imagined fantasy
III
painterly hues splashed
upon the patchwork quilt
of a soul's reflection
mirrored in the heart
Fantastic story in milky marble,
In honor of a wife, so praiseworthy (?)
Though seems overflow of fidelity,
Tajmahal is Muslim art, painterly;
From around world he brought so precious stones.
He ordered his whole kingdom to labor.
Mumtaj bore Fourteen children, soulfully;
Her youngest tried to break his father's bones,
Didn't Shahjahan keep wives for favor?
Six, the history says, quite dolefully...!
Maddened with thoughts of a lone masterpiece,
He gathered all artisans; gave gifts, sweet;
Cut off the hands; plucked out the eyes, with ease,
And played fiddle, like Nero, as in treat;
Lo, the architect did greatest of deed,
Made a hole, no one knows where, till this day,
And, hence, it's leaking, leaking and leaking;
Engineers of every caste, sect and creed,
Thenceforth, have tried greatest possible way,
To stop this seepage and irksome reeking...!
So, when I look at you, Tajmahal, dear,
Pool of blood floods within my naked eyes;
Should I ignore these for art-sake and drear,
Or bear it for heart of love that ne'er dies?
Reject simile, metaphor! Parts of speech,
No figures of speech match human being,
Tell Shajahan and Mumtaj this great fact;
Every one to every other must teach,
It's each and every being's well-being,
And not monuments that truly attract...!!!
04 May 2022
Wassily Kandinsky-
symphonic harmony painterly put
RULES OF ART
so painterly
executed
considering
the innovative
&contemporary
in true naturalness
space
of
utmost import
unusually
displayed
outshone by
admiration
unsurpassed
yet
involved
as
aspects
alluding
to
handling of light
sensations viewed
in discovered
differences
admirably
singled out
then
amplified
though
connections
relaxed in
numerous
hypothesis
where
motivations emerge
as notions
surviving
in conceivable phases
&
attributes
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Gypsy skirt,
Upon her exotic hips,
That embraces,
Her painterly,
silhouette,
To carefreely flow,
In the winds of her salsa,
Beauty,,
And caress her rhythms,
From firm sunset gallops,
to sweet repose,
From what shore,
Did she gather your flowers,
Surreal honey,
Her hips are so comfy,
and cozy,
In your loving fibers,
And adept garden waves,
As her hem dreams,
Its flowers,
To dance with her,
Crescendos,
And gaze of her sighs,
Gypsy skirt,
upon her exotic hips,
And dancer thighs,
And the margarita moon dips,
With your duet,
With her honey hair,
Sweet and kind,
As salsa evenings
Reynaldo Casison