Short Dali Poems
Short Dali Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Dali by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Dali by length and keyword.
Spaniard Salvador Dali
a surrealist he came to be
With ego & flamboyancy he did persist
this moustachiod self-publicist
Inventive Salvador Dali
a futurist as we can see
Two dancers * in a twirl
gave his art a swirl
"Two Dancers 1949 (dedicated to the subjects dancing)
pantheon rome
dome
dissolves
before our eyes
transmutes
into
dishevelled
tresses
in need of a comb
Salvador Dali from Figueras in Spain
in handpainted dreams showed us his game*
His work so individual& surreal
with minirity appeal
*https://salvadordaliprints.org/persistence-of-memory/
privileged
sublime
surreal
dreams
strange
detached
zeitgeist
circular
bizarre
blissfully
isolated
translucent
labyrinthine
insightful
extravaganzas
of
eccentricities
starry nights
van goghs painting
created while he was a patient
in a mental hospital
salvadore dali
told by his parents
he was a reincarnation
of his dead brother
two messed up artists
who used their pain
to create beauty
to bring us joy
Salvador Dali’s work makes me smile, sometimes laugh even.
It uplifts me, makes me feel happy, brings joy.
He was more daring at his heyday than any artist ever.
His risk taking ability has opened up the realm of possibility for others.
He was the Lewis Carroll/Edgar Allen Poe of artists if you ask me.
n the land of the dead clocks they slither and slink
Not caring about the time, without battery or blink
Like snakes moseying around, they barely move at all
Some linger and languish, others lie against a back wall
How did we get here? The clocks ask each other.
No one has a guess, some are too ugly to smother.
In the land of the dead clocks, time has stopped forever.
How soon do I want to visit? Let’s go with never.
Six years after the atomic bomb
Plunked down in Hiroshima
Tearing people into pieces
Dali was still losing sleep over it
He begins to collect strips and struts
Developing a surreal idea of what he is about
Collects arrowheads, wire, bits of bone.
Defers from his usual style
Puts together Raphaelesque Head Exploding
A tiny canvas with a large message
Showing his disdain for atomic bombs
And the barbaric aftermaths
The day’s flattery flattens into disturbance,
glowering as arms weaken,
my ears seek solace,
a soundproofed room,
lit by candle flickers in the dark,
I miss a peek all I can, trying
with might not to notice
its shadow who's espied me
ignoring audiovisuals
of melted clocks
and tick tocks echoing
In a Dalí pixel I dwell,
in his obscurity I fall
The Sandman
won’t get me,
asleep, not this time
I say I say I say
Said the horse with the long face
The Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman looked on.
Knock knock said the dwarf
In a jovial tone
Put his fez on
And then he was gone.
What's black,white and red? the nun said
As a trumpet grew in her yard
She rooted it oot without a sound
And didn't let down her guard.
If a picture paints a thousand words
Then Dali said it well
The world is other than it seems
Let's leave at the last bell.
Late: The square?holds its panting between
?the last bus and the first argument.
Nowhere / ‘online’ - @someone is ‘winning’..?
A face, a flag, emptiness trending; always.
We desired a just world -?rights, dignity, ‘progress’; doors?that open to merit.
Enlightenment still flashes warning
from the distant rocks - through darkling fog.?
The doors? Gone.
?it will not be alright.?
it is cold.
?the square waits: quiet, tense.?
you are here,?
so am I.