Deeper rivers
Flow in silence
Moving under.
Anytime she passes through trees another making it gardens.
First meeting hurt her to imagine.
She knows it's not right but she keeps him right.
Loving him with all her might.
Only for or him to hurt and break her back.
Watching her always bark.
Showing her another he got.
She thought what had she got not.
Pass through hell stones perhaps she will heal.
Fight with urges to have a meal.
Put on a fashion robe to keep her lover.
Tired of seeking through her answer's mover.
Spread the wings of hope,the past hurt her most.
Bothered not who fight to be her host.
She gave him an inch, he took a yard.
She's broken when he make her fall,watch her shine with her nard,indeed she's a bard.
Quote:"
"Soul Mover"
(by Glenn Hughes)
I am a soul mover
I came on here to make you groove
I am a soul mover
I'm making you want to move
And I feel it, yeah
And I feel it
Move, move, move, move, yeah."
In the quiet of the midnight air,
I hear the echoes of soul mover,
A whisper deep to my soul,
Calling me back to make me whole.
The road I walk, it twists and turns,
With every step, my spirit learns.
The pain, the love, they intertwine,
Like chords of fate that still align.
The truth is buried, yet it shines,
Through every note, in every line.
A melody of loss and gain,
Of broken wings and healing pain.
So let the rhythm make me groove,
Through skies unknown, no longer alone.
For in the music, I am free,
To be the man I’m meant to be.
He's a Mountain Mover
The God of Abraham Isaac and Isaac
There ain't nothing He can't do
May Christ dwell in you
And your heart pure hearts by faith
Being rooted and grounded in love
We harvest in the plentiful
But thise the laborers are few
It's alright it's okay
God will make away
He's a Mountain Mover
in this God can do All Things
He can move away the obstacles
Move the skies move mountain and valleys and rivers
He's available to consoled
Get out of my way yonder hill
Get out the way mountain
Move
To comfort you He is Abba Father true
A mighty, mighty Mountain Mover
12/31/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Ephesians 3:17
M-over and shaker person
E-agerly persuades the gray;
L-eading the way to mirth,
Y-es, toward the better day.
G-reat shaker and mover person
A-ims to influence the blue;
L-ooking for a pleasant place,
L-iving in a lovely view.
A-s the third of September
M-eets the rising beacon;
O-pening the morning for
S-haker and mover person.
God, the voice of Scriptures’ command
Moves my service* with love-demand
Along His mercy’s prodding drive
For me to do my best and strive
Along holiness-reprimand.
*Ephesians 6:7 With good will doing service, as to the Lord…
May 30, 2019
The artist prepares to satiate the feeling he has inside,
the grip of existential energy that is an idea being born.
For colors already in mind he picks out the cans of paint,
and scurries around for a brush and a bit of blank canvas.
Then begins the war where inspiration battles the hand,
and the paint is moved around in a ballet of the brushes.
Raging in the heated encounter the artist is exhausted,
but is restored with the whispers of the mysterious muse.
With simple ease he cajoles the falling of the artists' rain,
to become an image that inspires even its own creator.
Giving those who will view it over the long dusty years,
a peek inside the looking glass where beauty resides!
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
In the brilliants I grasp my brush
Blending color so glorious
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
My tints, shadows, and hues
Transposed such a view
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
And when I’m done with this work
For I am an artist
And I paint with a brush and other objects
My works are stared at…people come go see'em
At book clubs, library's and museums
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
For the paint moves
As I hold my brush
The paint moves
As my loving touch
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
I am the paint mover
A renown artist
I am the paint mover
I paint with a brush
THE PAINT MOVER Artist
10/09/18
For The Paint Mover(s) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
HOPE, THE PAINT MOVER
The patterned palette clasping the melted rainbow
doesn’t take time to dry as streaks of colored bone
if the amateur painter waits long and doesn’t know
how to choose the colors fast and select their tone.
The blank canvas waiting silent on the slanting easel,
the unpainted bare face wrinkles in creeping wet air
if the unsure moody painter hesitates awhile to tell
the dormant imagination to make the motif in color.
The hued palette, the waiting canvas and the painter
turn into a useless unlinked trio in the pursuit of art
if they can’t find for their purpose prime paint mover,
the camel haired innocuous painting brush to start.
The brush comes alive in the painter’s nimble fingers,
paints from the pliant palette with ardor it captures.
The face of charming canvas glows in collage of colors,
in surreal art form the nebulous imagination appears.
When winds of stormy time abrades life’s canvas bare
how long the painted rainbow will last you’ve no clue.
If all the colors start to melt in the torrents of despair
in color of future dip the mind’s brush hope gives you.
October 9, 2018
He leaves his silent signature on every piece of art
Not seeking worldly profit or acclaim,
Yet touches of perfection often set his work apart
And witness to his honourable name.
He moves his painter’s palette from the east unto the west
From north to south he coats the sweeping land.
His artistry is limitless and stunningly expressed
With every brushstroke marvellously planned.
Assorted textures bring to life the panoramic scenes
Resplendent in their richly varied hues,
From pastel pink to persimmon and dazzling emerald greens
Warm russet browns and iridescent blues.
A masterpiece can sometimes be neglected it is true
And counterfeits delude us at first sight,
So let us keep this perfect canvas in our field of view
And in the artist's workmanship delight.
06/10/18
(British spellings)
N/A :‘The paint mover poetry contest’ : Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
I got a woman
who satisfies my needs
I got a woman
she finds it easy to please
I got a woman
I don't have time for foolishness
I love my woman
I like our togetherness
I have a man
spends his time working
to keep it right
I got a man
someone who loves me
and treats me right
I have a lover
occupies all my time
I got a lover
I can say he's mine all mine
he calms the storms
tries to shield me from harm
I got a lover
aint got no time for foolishness
I got a man
I love him better then all the rest
can't stress enough
how much I love her
guess i'll take my time and
love her like she wants me to
I gotta woman
I gotta woman
yes I do !
Freight trains thunder through the empty station
Hauling a load to a far off destination
Unseen by many an eye, it speeds on it’s way
Making a noisy and smoky proclamation
Sounds resonating off the brickwork
Roosting birds fly scared off into the night sky
Signals set to go, green light illuminated
This mechanical behemoth powers on by
Throttles wide open, a magnificent sight
A vision of presence and power
It’s old and considered by some to be ugly
But the driver’s enthusiasm will not sour-
Hundreds of tons pulled into the night
The cargo of an fearful population
The lifeblood of many an industrial process
Running through the iron veins of the nation
The Paint Mover - Art-Poetry
The poet paints deep thoughts with words
the artist duplicates with paint;
sometimes described as 'sister arts',
disparities are only faint.
So passionate my need to draw
before my art with words began;
emotions caught with crayons first
and then with flowing paint, they ran.
Great images I longed to seize
to capture nature with a brush,
and with my colors blending life...
within my soul, I felt the rush.
Like meter, rhyme, a paintbrush moves
to balance rhythms of a scene
portrays deep beauty for the eyes...
'art-poetry'...not read, but seen.
November 12, 2016
Contest: Creativity In Visual Arts
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Immersed into the cosmic consciousness, the glorious Unmoved Mover, eternally contemplates!
(c) Demetrios Trifiatis
24 May 2016
Like the seraphs whose wings unfold,
Christ's light and glory goes not untold;
as the love of his humble grace
moves inside me all time and space,
as the planets orbit heaven's sun
and encircle it one by one--
so, too, am I caught in his sway,
beloved of him from day to day.
Through hosts of astral dimension
God's angels fix their attention
with expectancy and burning pause
around the universe's First Cause.
He, the one true Incarnation
that begets cosmic causation,
resolves the Infinite Regress
from the pre-Socratics' egress
with his omniscient wisdom
and the archives of his kingdom
where all can come and read and know
what miracles he'll yet bestow.
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