Claude Poems - Poems about Claude

French artist Claude Monet painted scenes from life occurring day to day. Peace he found from his large garden pond where paintings of 250 water lilies he spawned....

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I would have liked to be in the head of Claude Debussy, write the “afternoon prelude of a faunal”, Or "the toy box", or "Bergamasque suite", "La mer", be a musician, a seer, and invent new music, I would have liked to know all the images of the gardens, I would have liked to write for clarinet, triangle Or the piano...

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we gave Claude a nod sent his poems to friends and God spoiled child and spared rod. Great things God has done we will always love His Son He is Holy one with God friends would share He and Son are quite a pair sins are hard to bare when we have great news each page read then we will use tickle and amuse...

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SCENOGRAPHISTA  visual    experments in spatial   constructs arranged      with        meaning curated & holistic in seamless   synthesis of space in singular stimulii to   the eye...

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I am devastated, dumbfounded, dismayed, These people are so stupid, or crazy, They threw some hot soup On a painting by Claude Monet, These people are ridiculous, wicked, Who will listen to them? Not me, How can you believe what they say? They destroy immortal works, These people are so stupid, or crazy, No one will defend their cause, They’re like child killers Who come to...

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For I pry my damnest Her legs of an oyster For they do not give way Thy lacking in moisture This night of great troubles It pains me so My loins are aching Her pearls glow A beauty to behold Her spirit roam free I have created her cage A fear she will never love me To control her is to have her An immature thought And that...

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"Beata Maria, I know that I'm a righteous man." Proud and pure, high above the common man he soared Still young, yet master over a cathedral, his own lord His brow focused on the high arts - alchemy, medicine and such Lost his focus one day, it was because of her The little gypsy girl, the witch who stole his...

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"Claude not a clod Debussy" elle est chaude if i could as if d'un faune getting it on on and with a nymph's veil as if it was the most holy holiest grail...

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impression melts before our eyes- ...

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Author's note: This is not intentionally a historical piece, dear readers, but I thought I should probably add a bit of background info primarily for the benefit of my more international friends and colleagues on this site who may not be too familiar with the goings on of the late 2nd to mid 3rd decades...

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I’ve never been to Sicily, and yet it’s always felt a part of me. Who knows? Another life, another alphabet? Alongside Archimedes, jotting prose in Agrigentum I, with each vignette, imbibing wine, as bitter as regret, harangued the hellene farmers, stoning crows. That Greek me – did I tend (as now) to get frustrated when my verse was ‘on the nose’, all too...

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I could've gone to Holland. I could've gone to Spain. I could've gone to Denmark. I could've gone insane, But instead I came here, where the river mirrors life In a fractured, dream-like way on this brilliant summer day By the Bridge at Argenteuil. A couple in a rowboat, a woman and a man, In silent conversation discussing future plans, But they’re...

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Drac, Wolf, Frank, and Claude Bela to Lon, doubtless psychosis, Karloff insert he needs hypnosis, those three murmured on, awe night till scared dawn, Rain unseen flights for diagnosis. 2020 October 09...

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There was an old cowboy named Claude LaFeet, the scourge of the western plain. A Frenchman by birth and a man of some girth, he limped and carried a cane. He had been to the 'Pen,' had put in his time, was...

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Mr. Juncker's Continental System Cohorts of Luxembourg, arise! Keep the Russians from the Rhiine. Hosts of Luxembourg, en garde, Confine the British to the brine. "We'll do without America," says Merkel with aplomb. Warily one has to ask, "Whose finger's on the Bomb?" Français ou Allemand? Que parlons-nous, messieurs? Until this issue's settled It's Anglais, faut de mieux. A toast, my brave companions, on the path we march along. Not...

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