I spy it in the galleria
It is gorgeous, a cabinet of my choosing
I bid on it, confident.
There is another bid.
I turn and stare at my opponents – two of them.
They begin outbidding each other 40, 45, 60, 70, 80.
A hundred and twenty! I yell.
I don’t even want it now, but it is all about the win.
I finally get it at $300, a sixty dollar cabinet.
Whew!
I am sitting at my desk
Looking for a bright idea.
I look at the empty paper
Waiting for a poem for the galleria.
I waited for the right time
When I was in the mood to write.
But now I wait for inspiration
To let my imagination take a flight.
I mess my hair frustrated
As I rack my brain for inspiration.
I think back on the words of poets
Then I hit a realization.
Everyone has always said
Inspiration is all around.
What your surroundings offer
Will leave you astound.
A Parabola By Picasso
On piece of paper painted picture of a parabola
And started cutting it off with a small spatula
Put plaster of Paris in protruding plastic syringe
After seeing ugly color I then started to cringe.
All the color on parabola had just been sprayed
Out in bright sun is where finally had been laid
Poor parabola outside until it all did dry
And then it was sold to someone passing by.
Parabola and artist they both did part
Now in galleria is perfect, priceless piece of art
On who for this artful should we place the blame:
Did you know Picasso happened to be his name.
An observer of Picasso paintings was half-lit
And chewed up Picasso picture bit by bit
By creator he voraciously had been beguiled
When it was spit out all of the people smiled.
So even though you may not be the smartest
And on picture of parabola worked the hardest
Ray of hope on it appeared from out of the dark
All the other great artists gave it a glowing remark.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Today I’ll go to the galleria,
To shop for "small" precious beautiful things
A ring, a necklace, and a tiara,
That will totally pull at my heartstrings.
I’ll meet a friend at the pizzeria.
Before that, I have to get that new dress.
Shoes and bag to match - ala Senora,
My look, surely my friend will be impressed.
On my way to buy my favorite things,
A resplendent flower cloaked me with awe,
The stranger’s sweet smile meant everything,
Heartwarming was the gaze the lovers threw,
Utterly wonderful delights! Me thinks.
They are just simple, but beautiful things!
7/17/14
Restraint sacked by guilty pleasures
Liberty to relay emotional features
Cerebrum overthrown by larynx
Coy fetters shattered by the heavy blow of drugs
Passion for things of onyx
High pants worn in imitation of prisoners
Appearing trendy is a criteria
Modifing the lives of their listeners
They dine mostly in galleria
The society endorse them
Companies sponsor
Modesty is a snag to their pursuit
None files a lawsuit
To them immorality is a virtue
They make it their nature
Being realistic who would reject all these
Who will reject fame and grammies
And there he stood like a statue
The silence dropping like a stone
As if talking to a ghost the icon remained
Ever passive, Forever frozen
Like a tourist at the galleria, the speaker moved on
In a world of hear and now. instant text and instant news
Where the games talk and the pictures move
How could the statue keep their interest
With features fixed in granite, and eyes set with emeralds
Intricate designs, the closest to a soul you can find
But if only the tourist looked closer
If only he had those child-like eyes of awe and wonder
He would have seen the spark of life
The way the light caught the emerald eyes
If only Emerald Eyes weren't staring at a statue
Art
in the
bakery-
will she buy this
one
Tribute to Johanna Ey artf=dealer/artists friend
Johaanna Ey by Otto Dix
http://www.mess.net/galleria/dix/ey.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johanna_Ey
The panderer's grandiose smitten scheme
spectacular invention those calibrated scenes,
gradation of movement in unhurried steps
resistance ineffectual fallen to debt...
Marvelously sculptured are unscrupulous ideas,
lavishly displayed within bubbled galleria
tempted to chance overwhelming desire,
dissapating blazon our spiritual fire...
Corruption and greed,is not our human nature,
more appropriate are unjust errant ventures...
hiding imagery in galleria of deceit giving birth to indentities incomplete a clown
amongst devils in the sin parlour a priest amongst hypocrites in honor of valor a
face for all occasions and situations a stalker to you a hunter to me in my employ
to reveal your mask for a fee in a crowded and empty room free to roam a
trespasser in his own rite and home to peel away the mask of yours to the world
to bare all that is there and nothing more to hide in plain sight within yourself
looking at your inner mask you fail to see with fear building of the truth you flee
finding yourself in the flask it reflects back the mask
rose colored sunrise , powder blue noon
high pitched shrill from a nearby loon
sandpipers race the dune in sync
following the waves to get a drink
ocean breezes , whisk up frothy foam upon the sand
like wayward sailors from a distant land
coconut groves , pineapple fields
colors and scents you can practically feel
waterfalls rush off sky high cliffs
misty rainbows seem to hover and drift
deep , lush greens , vibrant birds of paradise
natures everchanging art you just can't buy
taking a stroll down memory lane
god's galleria , lovingly , contained .
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