Chagall Poems - Poems about Chagall

if I were a drop in the ocean you are the embrace of home - all-encompassing obliterating emptiness submerging and saving in an instant exist with me, I beg you ...

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marc chagall's equestrienne don't eat that violin painted in 1933 ...

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neural chaos looks like scratches the casual bystander may step back in horror fearing a deadlock standoff unaware every angle works perfectly no one dies I'm so confident ~ I place the whole shebang next to glass nothing shatters or splinters please write that...

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Ever sunk so low that mellow hits Your dreams cascade directly from the sky Cavities of the underground cushion The world splits into primary colours Stretching of limbs a forever of blissful Everything arches Towns slink away to rest untroublingly elsewhere The here and now evaporates Becomes the inhalation You breathe it in, dutifully Reach euphoria Fly away with that one bird Be the product...

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Captured sensitivity in an orb of solarity are these hours not what we live for? we feel the sum of all things held delicately ~ touch exquisite causing every ...

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somewhere a thought is projected dappling on all present did it start inside my skull? I don't ask but it bounces into a counter argument tussles start all completely invisible to the naked eye are invisible things real? of course get some music in to heighten the moment no one relaxes it's too solemn less loop de loop more weight and judgement the...

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The crescent moon and sunlight consumed by the moon’s fullness. The violin violates the quiet and quaint acquaintance of an eyeful. The cow, with its rudimentary cuds, could only curse the night. The bull will not croon its lullaby; he & his Bessy will not take flight. It’s a circus, peculiar, not meant for sleeping babes in arms. Infants blink...

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Peril looms yet the artist shows a relaxed state over the city. Looked back from whence they came, escaping, unfollowed, over the city. Solitude no more, she’s his prize to carry off over the city. ...

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angels live in his mind lovers and flowers in a garden bright blue . . . ...

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Music pierces where words escape every mood a tune a hearts embrace...

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Le Cirque Bleu The spotlight is aglow through the gloam The light an indigo ink modifying color She swings her body with agility thrusting backwards upside down, with unseen wings, an acrobat aerials amid the roar She looks pretty with her fan in one hand, long tresses flowing loosely ...

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My heart was yours, and yours was mine- etched until death by our wedding vows. ...

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I'm beside myself In a haze that some call 'rose tinted' In a phase that others call 'seeing red' In the photographers dark room, just looking over everything, nothing yet developed fully Too much is spoiling as light floods in I wanted to have it all figured out I wanted to have given it all time Of course we're smiling and...

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there is a never after where words are lost and colours fade but perhaps we won't let go in dreams and voices there will be one more story from me you'll be attentive one last time yet the tips of my fingers ...

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White is placed last, just as dark is first It's vision through glass it is not a curse Is there value in stillness? I'm glad you asked Just as dark is first, white is placed last Are the order of things both real and dreams? The absolute rule is all is not as it seems Clarity is what a pause...

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