Long Picasso Poems
Long Picasso Poems. Below are the most popular long Picasso by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Picasso poems by poem length and keyword.
His seared look, from a painted gird brow dons,
a face like Van Gogh with both ears, though just,
as lost, looks about an empty room of challenges,
that is built high on lost convictions, drowns in a,
festering of desperation, as sweats beads a stench,
on an unswept floor, wavering, between old unhealed,
wounds of a, dark past, all attached to young love,
and their new miseries.
He takes a swig and walks away from a sultry,
sway as a piano's light tune, breaks off key and,
holds, as a blown off woman pops her gum and,
snobs at his direction unnoticed and wanders off,
while a glib man in slick clothes offers a chance at,
cards, he simply walks away until a chair moves,
from behind, it's slick, he then stops with his back,
still faces him, a chair slides back, he walks on.
He comes up to the man at the piano, who is a bit,
jittery, asked hm if he knew a song called, 'Ole
Susanna', he replied saying that he never heard of,
that song, he then steps back a spell and figured,
him to be from the north, and gives him a look like,
a Picasso painting for he knows that people out West,
knows, 'Ole Susanna', so he's thinking that things are,
afoot here in this town, as he looks around at stares.
He backs away, on back to the bar, takes a final swig,
as a jingled coin settles to silence in the uncanniness,
of a quietude western bar, as he dons his hat, the,
bartender hollers that set the bar back to its norm, girls,
giggling, cards shuffling, piano playing, and all of the,
joviality returns, as the new guy in town, hops on a horse,
and pulls away as a normal western town fades in the sun as,
a drifter stops, turns and sees afar off, a painting by Monet.
"Hearing the Harlequin"
Mute
Blues and greens
Picasso spins his brush
on his canvas she appears
playing
a Mandolin
in his dreams
Felt
She is seen
through another's story
L’Oiseau bleu,
Captured Queen
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"Felt Mountain" / Goldfrapp
https://youtu.be/qLySQ-zuULI
1.
Picasso
Girl with Mandolin
The Seated Harlequin
2.
Metzinger
L’Oiseau bleu
Pablo Picasso / Seated Harlequin - Self-Identity & Picasso's Harlequin
https://www.swarthmore.edu/writing/self-identity-and-picassos-harlequin
Pablo Picasso / Seated Harlequin 1901 / The Met
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/489124
Pablo Picasso / Girl with Mandolin 1910/
http://www.pablopicasso.net/girl-with-a-mandolin/
Jean Metsinger/ L'Oiseau bleu
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Oiseau_bleu_(Metzinger)
Jean Metsinger/Cubism
https://study.com/academy/lesson/jean-metzinger-paintings-cubism-biography.html
and there out of nothing came hope
for peace harmony and justice
he knows only too well that he cannot control
events situations nor other people
only has the choice of how to respond
wishing wanting demanding procrastinating
had got him into his own distorted shadows
to the brink of an abyss near a canyon of tears
anger resentments and fears threatened all values
yet love tolerance compassion and self-respect
brought him closer to reality and the chance for a future
he does not wish to fight any longer
but is ready to stand up tall for himself
and now what seemed to be crumbling
a once beautiful mosaic turned into tatters and shards
offers building blocks for healing and recovery
in his meditations he saw faint images
of Munch’s Scream and Gaugin’s exotic beauties
surprisingly no Guernica of Picasso
but the peace doves are present
songs are no eulogy any longer
and hope came out faith and surrender
I never can plumb the depths of your art
Nor fathom the gifts of your fallen heart;
I revere the skillful slither of you apt brush
And here pay homage to your pencil's dash.
Now ***** man of fourteen names after saints and kin,
Let this rhyme titillate your somnolent spirit,
And your faded flair stir awake and keen,
To inspire your apprentices attain your merit.
Awesome creator of the breathtaking Chicago Picasso,
That outlandish landmark that amazes so,
Yours countless nuggets of choice superior art;
Allow this humble poet your back to pat.
Almighty preserve your soul among the pure,
And may your treasured works forever endure.
Your loosened hair
Gleaming in the benign sun
Roses in our blood inhale dense air
Decking up before departure has begun
The green is paling one by one
It's the dance of death in colour
A fountain of farewell with a hue
For the cracking bones of October
Palliating painters seated in queue
Picasso brown red and blue
The message on the train is as clear as an apple
Our hues are too fleeting to hold
Come let's dance dear before yellowing begins in maple
Before our roots get too old
Under the introverted autumn sun let's melt our gold
October 20, 2020
Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Francine Roberts
a monochrome
hue
in blue
to a breakthru
on a road
to simplicity
primitive
power in paint
expressions
of
emotions
surreal
corrupted confusions
a nightmare jumbled
minimalised
metamorphised
dramatised
distracted
assymetry
twisted exaggerated
a conflict
in
conflageration
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
We’ll be leaving in a day or three. School’s starting again soon, so I’m taking some last summer looks around.
When it’s vacation time I want vetted recreation - who wants to take chances?
Last spring, in the last few weeks of school, on the metro or when I should be studying, or on cold nights - when I should’ve been studying - I’d try to visualize these pactolian Héraclée beaches.
The bright, exclusive, Héraclée summer sun - that electrically-radial herald of beachy fun - bestriding a seaside indigo summer sky - like a fiery, winged messenger of heaven-spun blessings.
Hemingway, a man who lived in pedestrian Florida, wrote that the French Riviera was ‘the garden of Eden.’ Picasso said, ‘in sunflower sun, the clean, quartz-grained sand of Saint Tropez glitters like diamonds.’
Héraclée is slower, wilder and more natural than touristy Saint Tropez and its beaches are practically deserted. Craggy hills slope down to a pristine shoreline, where the sand is as soft as cotton.
We’re at a private area, where ‘plage-attendants’ (severs) circulate among vanilla colored cabanas, dressed in understated, tans and beiges - silently delivering food, amenities and drinks.
Waves chatter a timeless prose that lulls you to trance in cool bungalow shadows - this mile of riviera strand - totes private - is clothing optional.
The heat of the day brings out fragrant scents of native scrub blossoms - jasmine, rosemary, mimosa and thyme, sea salt and umbrella pine to produce aromatherapy-like fragrances that seemingly dissolve time.
This shore of sanctuary, where the scented air itself seems to compose rhyme, has always been a poet’s muse - with its golden afternoons and moonlit, tinsel-flecked tides.
Héraclée is whatever you want it to be - you’re free to inhabit multiple polarities.
It’s not, in fact, heaven - but it’s close.
.
.
Songs for this:
Don't Forget the Sun - The Explorers Club
Summer Girl (Bonus Track) by HAIM
Please mind your step…or don't, i leave it to your discretion
l left my manners at the entrance, don't expect a first time impression
I understand the facial expression, it holds a milion questions
Keep them to yourself, am drained of the energy to explain the aggression
Welcome all the same, please don't feel free
I have a feeling you might not last the pleasantries
How can i disappoint you?
You what?...…Hahahahahahaha …
Don't excuse my hysterical laugh
It is a clear sign that am familiar with sermon being preached
Trust me, i have had faith that moved mountains
These Hymns of holy intentions have been sang before
Verses complimenting the salvation each claimed to have brought, exhausted
Please mind my skeptical skepticism
Understand ……Or don't, at this point i don't mind that your mind what i mind , it remains my mind.
I don't have the luxury to wake the only piece holding hope, from an overdue slumber.
These scattered pieces are a picasso, tainted with pain
Left ceremoniously as a reminder that it could happen again
Don't get me wrong….Or do,
i have my fair share of demons, but here i stand, holding my fifth stone to cast
The "mustard seed faith" and religious love don't move these walls
The mind wills but the heart recalls the past.
Handle my book, and read me ...
Who intends to understand me,
wish to experience my soul,
how does it do ...!?
I am a shut enigma book,
but I can be unfold ...
I'm a rough poem,
but illustrated ...
I'm a painting, not from Picasso,
but I have my details ...
I'm made of doodles,
Somewhat abstract but sincere ...
I'm weird, but not that much ...
I am peaceful, but I am warrior,
no one puts me halters,
I'm towering ...
I do not fear death, but I fear
not living life ...
Who desires to capture
my essence, come ...
Read the book, read me ...
In my inner book, I'm even further
thrilling...!
Pablo...according to me (Part 1a), read Part 1b to finish
Re Pablo Picasso printmaking exhibition at Bellagio Hotel's Fine Art Gallery.
(1) Left Profile of a Woman with Blue Hair
The lass you slay here rebukes your dogma while submitting to greater cause. I wonder if her soul preempted her locks in route to this blue oblivion.
(2) Woman with a Yellow Necklace
I don't blame you, I'd chase her too. The untamed lass -- part figurine, part conundrum, part hurricane -- who pried, cried and tried your fervor until committing to the menu and after-party.
(3) El Greco's Portrait of a Man with a Ruff
The patience you must have had, I never would. Slicing, dicing, razors slashing this debonair freak, and from the misery of linoleum too. Seems like you took 3rd Grade stencils, dipped them in the blood of barbarians, and chased it with a cocktail of speed, habanero grits and rancor. Well done.
(4) The Painter and His Easel
So it's me, watching you, watching this painter, watching and coloring the world in hope that someone is watching. Eye drops, anyone?
(5) Reclining Woman
If my wife looked like that on the sectional, maybe the dogs might behave, and I might get peace and quiet every once in a while.
(6) Head of a Woman Next to a Window
The pink streak grabs my gut, saying trace my face with grace, then maybe you tackle what I see, what l need. On that note, Windex ever?
..to be continued in Part 1b (because the Soup won't let me post it all here, ugh)...
(8/1/15)