Long Artworks Poems
Long Artworks Poems. Below are the most popular long Artworks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Artworks poems by poem length and keyword.
True artworks live for long, fakes deceive,
Exist not yet live, better believe,
In an age of mod art,
Voyeurs peep, play odd part,
World has gone far since Adam and Eve,
Time moves but stayed at stet
Curious folks kill the cat,
A poet as checks, at stet to leave.
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Happenings |07.06.2021| Limerick, the first, second, and fifth lines are one foot longer
Poet’s note: There was a ‘comedian’ artwork by Maurizo Cattela that sold for $ 120,000 in 2019 (See my poems in PoemHunter.com, This Weird World’s Weird Ways –I and This Weird World Getting Bizarre – II). It was nothing but a banana duct-taped to a wall. Now, here comes another ‘artistic creativity’ – or something that should be called gas! An artist Salvador Garau sold an invisible sculpture titled Io Sono (I am) for $18000. It was nothing but vacuum in a glass case, which he called ‘an empty space full of energy’. After all, Big bang came from nothing but an infinite potentiality!! Lucky buyers receive certificate of authenticity. He also had earlier sold a piece of invisible art titled, Buddha In Contemplazione, made of ‘spirit and air’ as he explained. You must have also heard of NFTs, non-fungible tokens, as the next big thing. I am waiting for the day I can place some invisible poems and later publish them as well.
I know a funeral when I walk into one
I can tell between a funeral and a burial
They are two entirely different artworks
One is done on grand canvas, with drunken strokes
Of sashaying brush and bleeding paints;
The other is done on mere sand, with foot and hand,
Forming sandcastles built by toddlers.
I know too well because I have my senses
Intact after the last funeral I attended on a gambolling coast.
I should know because I participated in the burial of a
Village lout, a wretched lord, so grand with contumely.
Funeral lasts for days and contains the sounds of cannons
And other elements of ceremonies, so loud, so eloquent,
So ceremonious —full of man and illiterate beasts.
A burial, on the other penurious hand,
Reeks of haste, attended by a teething crowd —
And at times comes with thunder that speaks in jest
And a lightning whose light flickers on all things subpar.
Early Autumn.
Lazy Sunday morning.
Coffee cooling.
Reading poetry, writing pooretry.
Viewing artworks, editing photographs.
Eggs and crumbcake, long since
consumed.
Forgot by mind, by mouth
though not by belly.
Hawks foreground the
white puffery in the North sky,
circling.
Perhaps challenged by a corvid.
Something black seems to dislike its circling.
It’s presence.
It’s self.
The birch showers in newly not-green and softly serrated
leafery.
Dropping into cappuccino.
Into coffee.
Onto keyboard and camera.
Into hair.
Upon the unused chair.
There, beside us.
A carpet to inspire the sole
of the barefeet we eat in.
We ate in.
The rustle seems to murmur something
about the season.
The ages.
The world.
The hawks cry out.
Continually.
Distant.
They could be anywhere.
They are just there far over there
but
could be anywhere.
To place the call of a hawk is no
small thing.
To resolve them in the bluevast
no easier, true.
The leaves, seem to tire of the sky
and fall,
seemingly mostly,
on her.
She leaves them where they be.
A forest come home to its
Hera.
Tender as cuddling arms, this godly place
Bright the jasmines that pose in laced dresses
Enchanting my soul with bliss all around;
That paints this unbridled colorfulness.
No panels of steel gates here, or mown grass
That disapprove of a fancy free tread…
Where I graze the meadow, in abandon
Relishing the scent of air overhead.
Oh jasmine sprigs are fondled by the breeze
Where birdsong trills on moonlit summer skies;
That kindles inner holiness in me
As lush artworks enthuse these joy-filled eyes
Even in winter’s hand, buds glint the dew
That’s why I love nature staying aglow,
As any cycle thrills my thankful heart …
To pray for her dear life… to richly flow.
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Posted 6/05/2016
Contest of Rob Carmack, Srewed lX
Of all the memorials I've come across
Acknowledging heartbreak and sorrow and loss,
The stolperstein dotting the streets of Berlin
Have reminded me most of what shouldn't have been.
These bricks made of brass are the work of one man*
Who, as part of a project, came up with a plan
To commemorate victims the Nazis had taken
Away from their homes, where their lives were forsaken.
In English, the "stumbling stones," as they're called,
Are carefully crafted and later installed
In front of the buildings where Jews did reside
And were forcibly moved though they pleaded and cried.
Each brick (there are thousands) has name, age and date
Of the person who lived there and suffered the fate
Of a horrible torturous lead-in to death;
Inscribed, too, are camps where they took their last breath.
Memorial sculptures and artworks abound
Wherever a Holocaust victim's been found
But to me, these brass bricks are the most poignant yet
And an image I know I will never forget.
*Guenther Demnig
Henri Matisse's Studio
Scattered about like fish in a pond
are paintings and objects in a secluded room
in a sea of red, shouting out loud,
“Connoisseurs please enter, others not welcome.”
The pink studio expresses acceptance
of chic bourgeois realism, reinforcing boredom
with sunlight streaming through the window
and a welcome mat lying on the linoleum.
The colour-contrast room interiors
accentuate artworks during creative years
of avant-garde innovations
that have captured an audience’s attention.
One version is neat and tidy, and the other chaotic,
peering into one and looking out from the other,
revealing Matisse’s mind in motion
from realism and post-impressionism to Fauvism.
A time shall come sooner than later
all of the blooming and the scenery will become visual
for all to see
my accomplishments from me
the writing, the designs, artworks
furthermore, music, songs
the businesses, cooking skills, and much more
the entrepreneur that's me
businesses growing
valuables showing
all because I know
I have put in
achievements, hard work
the tree has grown
unknown length time, soon to unwind
to blossom, bloom, and shine
flowers blossoming
a time to shine is here, that's mine
royalties, vacations, supporting of others
giving back, not lack
more than enough
a nice home to call my very own
for my destiny is here
NOW shown.
FAITH IS THE KEY
MY WORK PAID OFF
OVER SOME DECADES
NOW, THE FOUNDATION IS LAID.
The Fab Four crossing Abbey Road in single file, led by John in white suit
and shoes, followed by Ringo in black suit and shoes, bare footed Paul
in gray suit and George in denim and white shoes, all in synced with left
foot forward, except Paul and their short shadows inside the crossing.
Tree and parked car lined road under a clear blue sky, brown flats
peeking or towering the green trees and a bystander on the right
side and cars in both lanes a long way off, no traffic, no pedestrians
on a sunny, midday, based on the shadows in Abbey Road in London.
No album title, no band’s name and no artist name, just an image so
simple and memorable, the band casually crossing Abbey Road in a
moment of stillness that became one of the famous artworks in
history and album cover of all time and one of the most imitated.
PEACE ON EARTH
Peter paints the deep blue sky,
as if at the rise of creation.
He brushes the circumference
of a brand new world.
With tears, Max moves his sweeping
brush, as if tidying up the base
of the gifted Statue of Liberty.
Her height rises into the heavens.
Peter gives depth to the earth.
Bodies of water and continents,
brought to life. The bottom third
of the canvas displays the stars
and stripes of the American flag,
carpet-like - the world’s welcome.
Each star, meticulously placed,
sparkling around our beloved planet.
Before the artist signs his masterpiece,
with simply - MAX,
Lady Liberty’s torch glows like the sun,
over New York City. This artist who
saved her from her deteriorating fate,
who painted each fallen fireman -
gifting their families with painted portraits.
Max, born in Germany, raised in China.
Max, a patriot of the United States.
Max, a gentle man, sweet and kind.
He turns around and waves,
he shook my hand. His brushstrokes
inhabit the Statue of Liberty.
He stands ten feet tall,
even with withering bones.
A class act, all displayed in his lovely painting,
Peace On Earth.
9/17/2017
Enter Your Own Competition
Sponsor: Cecilia Hopkins-Drewer
My Competition: Celebration Of Art
Art: Peter Max’s Peace On Earth
Criterion hoping to achieve: Bring to life a painting of an old or new master artist.
Peter Max is an American artist known for using bright colors in his work. Max synthesized the "Summer of Love" into artworks from canvas to mugs, clocks, scarves, clothes, and cruise ships. Reference: Wikipedia
Met Anouka in my artistic dream.
Skreech, fzzzt, ch-ch-ch-ch beep boop click-clack.
Ooooo, aaaaah, vroom, virtual booting machine.
Zap, plonk, and whoosh into a time-loop sack.
Anouka crafted art that made gems rock!
She sails far above stars in rocket dreams.
Skreech, fzzzt, ch-ch-ch-ch beep boop click-clack.
High tech ignites surreal dreams on jet-pack.
Eeeeyowww power-down wails through feedback-tack.
Pew-pew ding-ding, zoooop-strong glitch-burst dream-hack.
Anouka crafted art that made gems rock.
Static discharge fzzzt skritch bleeee krrrshhh thwunk shock.
Bleeble-bloop strong sunlight's bright light clock-tock.
Ooooo, aaaaa, vroom, virtual machine bot-rock.
She glides far above stars in rocket dreams.
Ooooo, aaaaa, vroom, virtual dreams bool machine.
Glitch-bursts unravel what the swoop-code deems.
Onomatopoeia blooms in moonbeams.
Sci-fi textures whirr-click through neon streams.
Zap, planks, and whoosh into a time-loop sack.
Anouka's inspiration shines in beams.
Pulsar void pulse with tick tock astral gleam.
Anouka swirls in streaming swooshy dreams!
I met Anouka in an artist's dream.
Blue studio shined.
Cosmic clouds swiftly divined.
Ethereal finds.
Cloudy blue sculptures
Await dreaming visitors,
Future creators.
There was a table
With rectangular artworks,
Each with its own cloud.
The shapes were simple,
Embedded in the dreamscape,
Clouds becoming bright.
Art from inner mind,
As soul relays a message
About tomorrow.
Sparkling bright jewel,
Delightful blue renewal.
Absorb the meaning.
Sparkle fizz fuzz fizz
Inner whoah woo woo night bizz
Whoosh whoosh stars sizzle!