Posts from the ‘Poetry’ Category

Feb 8

“The future ain’t what it used to be.” —Yogi Berra

Seer’s eyes prognosticate
Reading signs of prophesy
Previewing what comes to be
As yesterday’s ills recede

There’s no present. There’s only the immediate future and the recent past.

―George Carlin

Feb 2

“Art is beauty, the perpetual invention of detail, the choice of words, the exquisite care of execution.” —Théophile Gautier

If it’s true beauty is more than skin-deep
Is it in fat’s, muscle’s, nerve’s, or bone’s keep
Does beauty through the human form seep
Pooling deep as dreams in duvets of sleep

The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread

―D. H. Lawrence

Jan 19

2 Comments

“Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

Lend not your ears to lies
Look out for tells and tics
The ears hear artifice
Eyes can read lies on lips

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

―Jean Cocteau

Jan 18

“It is now life and not art that requires the willing suspension of disbelief.” ―Lionel Trilling

Would ‘Sunflowers’ shun the light
‘Starry Night’ be canvas white
Blood be spilled by palette knife
Were life without art still life

Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life.

―Oscar Wilde

Jan 8

“When did we let news become entertainment? ―Saahil Prem”

Demagogues flouting the law
Horseless carriage runs on straw
Holy man worships a whore
It’s late, but wait, there is more

Armageddon will start with the news media.

―Richie Norton

Dec 21

2 Comments

“Take those flying reindeer, Santa’s red and white color scheme, and his jolly disposition, for example. They are all probably linked to the use of hallucinogenic toad stool in ancient rituals.” —Roger Highfield

‘Twas the night before Christmas of a hazardous year
Santa was safe at home with the clan of Claus
Elves were loading gifts in Santa’s new sleigh
Reindeer were dreaming in their stalls

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

―Clement Clarke Moore

Dec 13

“Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all.” —W. Somerset Maugham

Does the blossom sniff the bee
In their pollinating ecstasy

If we breathe the scent of goodly grass, the fragrance of spices, the aroma of good fruits, we pronounce a blessing over the pleasure.

―Shmuel Yosef Agnon

Dec 10

“Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?” —Alfred Lord Tennyson

In my dream I see her rarity
at a smart picture gallery
to which her heart is the lock
and my art the key

Every human is an artist. The dream of your life is to make beautiful art.

―Don Miguel Ruiz

Dec 2

“Wherever man has left his footprints in the long ascent from barbarism to civilization, we find the hoofprint of a horse beside it.” —John Trotwood Moore

In a legend the elders foretold
Of the quest for the southwestern gold
On the glittering sands
Of the equine’s homeland
Where brave horses are spirited souls

I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a horse.

―John Galsworthy

Nov 28

“Until very recently, the artist was a magician who did his magic in public view but kept himself and his effects a matter of mystery.” —Gore Vidal

Neither smoke nor mirrors play a part
In the great magician’s secret art
No legerdemain
Just a cabinet plain
No gamed sword blade or feign of fake sort

I was a magician’s assistant and had to go in the box that they put the swords through, and there’s no trick to it. You literally have to dodge the swords.

Posts from the ‘Poetry’ Category

Seer’s eyes prognosticate Reading signs of prophesy Previewing what comes to be As yesterday’s ills recede

There’s no present. There’s only the immediate future and the recent past.

―George Carlin

If it’s true beauty is more than skin-deep Is it in fat’s, muscle’s, nerve’s, or bone’s keep Does beauty through the human form seep Pooling deep as dreams in duvets of sleep

The human soul needs actual beauty more than bread

―D. H. Lawrence

Lend not your ears to lies Look out for tells and tics The ears hear artifice Eyes can read lies on lips

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

―Jean Cocteau

Would ‘Sunflowers’ shun the light‘Starry Night’ be canvas whiteBlood be spilled by palette knifeWere life without art still life

Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life.

―Oscar Wilde

Demagogues flouting the law Horseless carriage runs on straw Holy man worships a whore It’s late, but wait, there is more

Armageddon will start with the news media.

―Richie Norton

‘Twas the night before Christmas of a hazardous year Santa was safe at home with the clan of Claus Elves were loading gifts in Santa’s new sleigh Reindeer were dreaming in their stalls

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

―Clement Clarke Moore

Does the blossom sniff the bee In their pollinating ecstasy

If we breathe the scent of goodly grass, the fragrance of spices, the aroma of good fruits, we pronounce a blessing over the pleasure.

―Shmuel Yosef Agnon

In my dream I see her rarity at a smart picture gallery to which her heart is the lock and my art the key

Every human is an artist. The dream of your life is to make beautiful art.

―Don Miguel Ruiz

In a legend the elders foretold Of the quest for the southwestern gold On the glittering sands Of the equine’s homeland Where brave horses are spirited souls

I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a horse.

―John Galsworthy

Neither smoke nor mirrors play a part In the great magician’s secret art No legerdemain Just a cabinet plain No gamed sword blade or feign of fake sort

I was a magician’s assistant and had to go in the box that they put the swords through, and there’s no trick to it. You literally have to dodge the swords.

―Caroline Flack

Seer’s eyes prognosticate
Reading signs of prophesy
Previewing what comes to be
As yesterday’s ills recede

If it’s true beauty is more than skin-deep
Is it in fat’s, muscle’s, nerve’s, or bone’s keep
Does beauty through the human form seep
Pooling deep as dreams in duvets of sleep

Lend not your ears to lies
Look out for tells and tics
The ears hear artifice
Eyes can read lies on lips

Would ‘Sunflowers’ shun the light
‘Starry Night’ be canvas white
Blood be spilled by palette knife
Were life without art still life

Demagogues flouting the law
Horseless carriage runs on straw
Holy man worships a whore
It’s late, but wait, there is more

‘Twas the night before Christmas of a hazardous year
Santa was safe at home with the clan of Claus
Elves were loading gifts in Santa’s new sleigh
Reindeer were dreaming in their stalls

Does the blossom sniff the bee
In their pollinating ecstasy

In my dream I see her rarity
at a smart picture gallery
to which her heart is the lock
and my art the key

In a legend the elders foretold
Of the quest for the southwestern gold
On the glittering sands
Of the equine’s homeland
Where brave horses are spirited souls

Neither smoke nor mirrors play a part
In the great magician’s secret art
No legerdemain
Just a cabinet plain
No gamed sword blade or feign of fake sort