Fine Art America is the world's most powerful sales and marketing tool for photographers and visual artists.
Simply open an account, upload your images, set your prices for all our available products, and you're instantly in business! FAA provides you with an e-commerce website, fulfills your orders for you, and sends you your profits each month.
What is left of us
Claws the Heart?
The pools of the
Of this World
And pretty words
How do You patch up
A mortal wound
To walk again
With sky bright smile
Among the Living?
This was on a post today with no credit to the Author. I found it beautiful:)
May our minds work together
To find mutual understanding
May I see you true
And be seen in kind
May our words reveal
More than they obscure
Most of all may our minds,
Eyes and tongues
Be guided by our hearts
And the language far older
Ah! Long broken sleep
boats sinking everywhere
just fog horns
happy litter after a storm
in our boat
and I see others ahead are full
and breaking into song
now that the morning has arrived
the rain's stopped
a strong gust blowing
the sails full and billowing
The natural flow of the sea
Every fisherman I've met tells me
will deliver you hungry, thirsty, half dead,
to land, from out of the sea
where fish seem free
and land is just another boat
Morning comes with sorrow
Struggle to begin
Waking without delusions
While the blood thins
Running on high octane
With money in the bank
A man lugs his stuff down a path
Mornings in the spring
There are even Greenwich Village tragedies
Happening as we speak
You can't wear a Kentucky Derby
Or drive a chimpanzee
Don't worry; it's just me and you kid
I won't have to tell you when to laugh
Tears have too many commitments
Joy is just a cry for help
You’re born with wisdom teeth
For heads can take an impact
Thumbs oppose us all
Even dogs have dreams where they cannot run
Even pilots taxi some
Water marks the beginning
Dirt will be the end
A Bedtime Story?
A Fairy Tale
When we got her in the water
under false pretences;
she hadn't felt whole bodied water before,
she drew back
her bewildering courage
I smiled wickedly knowing the hardship before the joy
Knowing the fear of learning
I took her far out and let go..
she turned like a compass finger
and splashed her way back
I was amazed she didn't drown,
but I was there to save her.
Afterwards, whenever we were near water,
she looked at me with wariness
I felt cruel...I'd lost her trust
I had to earn it again.
After a while
she would spring to the edge,
this world was new to her....all of it..she was brimmed full of bravery and unknown fear
we would join almost nose to nose, at the gauzy seam of land and water
with no lure from me...no askings
I had to float out and let her make her own decisions
But now I know if she ever falls in
she will swim!
I wake in the morning
with a need to get high
So I cook up a spoonful
And let out a sigh.
I find a good vein
Tie it off, give a thump
til it rises to the occasion
Now I'm ready to pump.
I syringe up that liquor
Hit the vein, and then shoot
Once, and once again
Now the issues become moot.
Now I can lay back
And feel the sweet kiss
Of time slipping away
Ahhhh, such sweet bliss!
Bye and bye.
~ mark wickham
This is a very popular discussion with 1403 responses. In order to help the page load faster and allow you to quickly read the most recent posts, we're only showing you the oldest 25 posts and the newest 25 posts. Everything in the middle has been skipped. Want to read the entire discussion? No problem: click here.
Hmmm sorry double post... I'll use this unintended space to share something I wrote recently with a small adaptation to fit the theme....
Many eyes hidden from the sun ...
Many neck ties ...
Many silver spoons in their mouths...
Many leather Shoes ...
Leather soles ...
Striped suits ...
Many mobile phones ...
Ipods, Ipads and Laptops ...
Like silent beats ...
Like sleepless nights ...
Many sunrises to eyes wide shut...
Many ... Many ...
Like infinite dark homes ...
Like infinite rainy days...
Infinite songs ...
Wind Whispers ...
Like infinite ... Infinite ...
We are all kisses ...
We are all embraces...
All cries and tears ...
We are all smiles...
All love, wants and fears ...
We are all everything ...
We are all nothing ...
We are all...
Like infinite ...
Like infinite ...
The dragon's in the lost
no more treason, no more deadly cost
I know the way she moves
like a thought that's put on hold, something concealed
I can sense that too,
and a speckle, a fraction, maybe a star that's worn,
Like a serious smile, or, something:
some things are always on the run
The snooker finals should be good tonight with Robertson and Marc fu. Back home now as work tomorrow but it was really tense last night watching Selby and Robertson. Not sure my camera or I was up to taking good photos with all the lights etc and no flashes could be used but will download some of them also surrounding area of Bendigo, a lovely town and friendly people. 'm sure it will all be expressed in poetry very soon. So Australia v Hong Kong.
I watched the big dragon ladel the earth
its huge teeth
and wide jaws
spoon into the earth
like it was blancmange
The bird saw it all
hanging on to the dragon's metal arms
I wanted to be that bird
to see the slices of age
in the amber colours of soil walls
wanted to uncover the finds
but maybe there was nothing
or maybe overlooked by builders
coal turning to diamond
I wanted to climb
lay there entombed
feel the comfort of history's blanket
hear clashes of shields
wails of dreamings disturbed
because there would be the answers to
our infinite existings.
Hide me in your big crane spoon
and lower me into the earth
the sounds of history
a whisper from glaciers buried
of fossiled foreigners
or sleeping luxuriously
My eyes would light intensely
I'd find it hard to breath
something equally mystical and real.
@Fran riley, I love your Long Time Ago images. will browse them again when I have time, prob next weekend. I would love to write a poem using your roller skates image please confirm its ok..if it is..thanks maria
have read the dragon poem many times, it is like a whodunnit LOL! Not that I am suposed to find some one answer...but i am a searcher...
I swam between the lines
through the black curvy tails
lifting the smallest rock letters
smiling at the bubbles from something rising to the surface
there was nothing visible in the pool of intrigue
that I could salvage
except a feeling
which I escaped with,
and expose whatever it was
to the air.
I am not tough enough for this time and place
Not aggressive enough for the world I disgust
I awake in my own tears for my bitterest failure
Why am I so weak I weep
What drives me on this road of sorrow
I have no pride
No faith or trust
It's all my own
I did it to myself
Perhaps you've had these moments of argument
Between beauty and pain
Rj you forgot to finish the poem..shouldn't the last line be...But, I know I'm not alone....
I think anyone who hasn't/doesn't feel these emotions at times,especially as you ge tolder and are full of reflections must be very disconnected....is there anyone who hasn't felt these emotions..pls we'd like to hear your poetry..
RJ we love your brutally honest poetry.....even if its all a sham and you are clever enough to write about this without ever experiencing it.....maybe you know people who do...real people...
I see wizards in the timbers
Ghosts of monks gone mad
Hiding from the baking sun
They hide like all good hypnogogic's do
Like a poet who uses too many words
He couldn't tell you the time of day
Speaking in his phony ancient accent
Posturing for the ladies
Contradiction lurking in all we seek
Falsehoods possession of the soul
Many have walked and left behind a trail
Pagan bread crumbs in their hair
Fraternal role models swing over the crowd
Young brothers left on their own
To revisit this nasty garden and vacant sea
Where Compost is Shipped High In Transit
Oh! I remember now...the self induced sleep..which brings about the ability to see, hear etc....things that you write about.
I suppose everyone's falsehoods are different as are their truths.
Maybe I was way out of order supposing you were talking about this thread as a nasty garden and vacant sea...I don't even know why I thought that.....maybe because you were talking about poets who hide behind words.....etc etc.
It doesn't matter anyway....this thread is a place to express yourself, mainly in poetry...doesn't have to be any type or genre.....
I am imagining myself, the wordy writer sitting on a compost heap in a nasty garden near a vacant sea.
All my words are composting
I sit upon them pondering,
with the worms,
No fish or serpents to watch
no lapping waves
no edge of sand and sea
with which to gauge
my life been lived, or yet to be
but still I come
share my pathetic words with strangers
with conflicting truths and falsehoods
who cannot stand in my shoes
nor I in theirs
we have words.
The compost heap heats up
could burst into flames at any moment
Could be the spark
that ignites it
the vomit of expression
that loses its acidity as it dries
in the daylight
that loses its honest stench
its voracious voluminous vernacular
of my native soul
A van Gogh haystack
of brooding golden wrings
Turned with a worn pronged fork
writing is easy
wrenching it pure from the heart
is hard work
I throw my words to the compost heap
With the rinds of so many others.
The poetry that has been
Deciphered til there is no surprise left.
I spade them in to incubate
And fertilize the fields of my heart.
Then I shall glean them
To harvest the poems of my Soul.
Phillip, great song! loved those lyrics
Maria, you are always so inspired and inspiring :)
RJ, good to see your words here! Sending you both many blessings as you create your new home in the desert. Uprooted can be uncomfortable at first :)
Although the nasty garden and vacant sea is a lose reference to this thread and self proclaimed poets in a more precise translation it would for me be the mortified places I arrive at that drive me to write .
for you Poe Ed
"A poet makes himself a visionary through a long, boundless, and systematized disorganization of all the senses. All forms of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he exhausts within himself all poisons, and preserves their quintessences. Unspeakable torment, where he will need the greatest faith, a superhuman strength, where he becomes all men: the great invalid, the great criminal, the great accursed—and the Supreme Scientist! For he attains the unknown! Because he has cultivated his soul, already rich, more than anyone! He attains the unknown, and, if demented, he finally loses the understanding of his visions, he will at least have seen them! So what if he is destroyed in his ecstatic flight through things unheard of, unnameable: other horrible workers will come; they will begin at the horizons where the first one has fallen!"
I'm closing this thread shortly for a break....but will open another one for those wonderful self proclaimed poets....maybe call it the the self proclaimed writers thread...but are we really writers...hmm...any good titles anyone??????? Or the self proclaimed artists/writers/poets/philosophers, etc etc thread..:)) Look fwd to hearing your suggestions...Have a great day.
Wow it seems like more than three months ago that you opened this thread! Ha ha on your new titles, all good :) here is my suggestion
Philosophers Pen, or Proclamations :) Thanks to you for being a gracious hostess all this time!
@Oxo what an amazing way to close this thread with the video. While watching it I thought how lucky we all are on this thread ( including the other two threads) and for anyone who just drops in
to read and listen to the different expressions and diverse personalities, all meeting together on some level here. we can all be ourselves without feeling we are going to be reproached for our outpourings where I feel we all try to express first and foremost what we are feeling, sometimes just that, sometimes feeling in response to other words, music art and philosophies here.
I agree with Oxo, the title of the new thread should be Self-proclaimed Poets Society Thread, as it will remind me, RJ and everyone else why we are drawn here......and speaking of RJ, I steal this from the above.....we love you because you have cultivated your soul, already rich! You attain the unknown, and, if demented, you finally lose the understanding of your visions, you will at least have seen them!