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poetry - page 7

IMPRESIONES (2) BLUE PAGE ~ VICTOR M. ALONSO AND MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK

in My Artist Friends ~ and their creations.../Poetry of Art by

IMPRESIONES (2)

BLUE PAGE

(Sobre un trabajo de Monique Lucy Weberink)

No es sólo la distancia,

Es el tiempo el que abre

El azul de la mar

Que golpea esta noche de vigilia.

Hacia qué latitudes se dirige

El pensamiento exhausto,

Esa mirada tierna

De tu alma que tiembla ?

Qué insinúa tu mano,

Qué rumbos añora trazar

En el océano racial,

Tormentoso, de la existencia ?

Es mía la sangre que moja

El rojo centro del espacio,

El piélago supremo

Que arde de nostalgia

Y urde marejadas de pasión.

VICTOR M. ALONSO

GRAN CANARIA, MARZO, 2011

A BLUE PAGE BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK

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MATA HARI ~ THE DANCE

in The Melody of Art by

~ The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word. ~
Mata Hari

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DEAD POET’S SOCIETY ~ THE NEED OF POETRY

in Poetical Visions by

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

Dead Poet’s Society

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DEAD POET'S SOCIETY ~ THE NEED OF POETRY

in Poetical Visions by

We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.

Dead Poet’s Society

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MY LADY CHATELAINE ~ POEM BY COLIN DEMET

in My Artist Friends ~ and their creations... by

MY LADY CHATELAINE

Through the mists inside the darkest night
Be I strolled as a fool may do
I came upon a lonely place
Where images were few.

The breeze was cold …
Hold a humming sigh …
Ghosts haunting, whispering, lullaby.

Murky dew-drops ice bite kiss
Frosty white my trembling lips
Through shadows veils the fool am I
I suddenly began to … cry.

For in her eyes her pain was raw
Be a broken heart torn rose in two
Thorns talons claw forever deep
Bloods tear drops fall in a castle’s keep
A tortured woman full of pain
My Lady weeping
Chatelaine.

Colin Demet
(Copyright Wordcatcher Publications)

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DESTINY ~ POEM BY ALYSSA AGAS

in My Artist Friends ~ and their creations.../Uncategorized by

Destiny

Unexpectedly two worlds collide

One look and theres a bridge

‘The strongest heartbeat

Suddenly felt in no time


Wouldn’t it be enough

that you’ll never be hurt anymore

Your eyes are revealing you

screaming words of love


Both fervently wishing

may it be in north or south

It will always end with you

and I’ll always end in your arms


I want to hear those words

those words that your eyes

are shouting to mine

And as your fortress

I will be the one to save you


We are always asking

where we’ll be going;

Barefooted and dazzled, to you

I’m brought by destiny’s storm


Why don’t you tell me

All you want to; don’t let the wind

carry those long waited words

I’m always beside you to listen.


Alyssa V. Agas

Painting Ivan Aivazovsky

A Strong Wind

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RICHTER ~ ON MUSIC

in The Melody of Art by

Music is the poetry of the air.

~ Sviatoslav Richter

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A LITTLE ONE’S FIRST ENCOUNTER ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK

in My own creations/Poetry of Art by

Today you are full and so very bright
Little sparkles reflected on the water
Washed onto the shore by current high tide
Just me there as its sole spotter

I can feel an air flow on my arms
A cold heavy shiver takes control
Its new to me but has its charms
Only warmth from some burning coal

Present high above this beach today
I am sitting here in the clammy sand
You once again decided to have it your way
Making this tiny pieces stick to my hand

Its dark everywhere so late at night
Small creatures finding their ways
Your magic always feels exactly right
Exactly described in numerous essays

Mystic light high up in the sky
You are there, over and over again
In the spotlight, that is why
When the time is right, that is when

You want me to focus, watch you, and only you
I am not alone here, its us that enjoys
We talk and laugh, that is what people do
Not able to break your spell with our noise

So far yet you are so close you are to me
As if I can pluck you right out of the sky
I like to, trust me I tried, didn’t you see
I feel attracted to your magic, that is why

Completely quiet, silence all evening long
Except for what is washed ashore
As if they know its here where they belong
They are everywhere but you want me to ignore

And then sometimes you try to hide
Not much to go for but some fluffy cloud
Those beams of light make the night exactly right
And I understand you, which makes me proud

We eat away the melted marshmallows
A bit burned by the wild moving flames
Dancing like the movement of sounding cellos
The adults around me making no claims

A dot moves along crossing you in its spaceflight
Traveling to its destined path in ideal alignment
High up in the sky like a running knight
Your face shines light, and shows some excitement

Smiling or sad, who knows how you feel
To me you are a magnificent sight
A drawing in the sky, it looks surreal
Only to vanish again at breaking daylight

But its good to have you near
I’d hope to see you again tomorrow
I’ll be waiting for you to appear
You turn darkness into an inspiring fresco

But I am only 8, and my holiday has come to an end
We will see each other again soon, my mystic friend

Monique Lucy Weberink

2011

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A LITTLE ONE'S FIRST ENCOUNTER ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK

in My own creations/Poetry of Art by

Today you are full and so very bright
Little sparkles reflected on the water
Washed onto the shore by current high tide
Just me there as its sole spotter

I can feel an air flow on my arms
A cold heavy shiver takes control
Its new to me but has its charms
Only warmth from some burning coal

Present high above this beach today
I am sitting here in the clammy sand
You once again decided to have it your way
Making this tiny pieces stick to my hand

Its dark everywhere so late at night
Small creatures finding their ways
Your magic always feels exactly right
Exactly described in numerous essays

Mystic light high up in the sky
You are there, over and over again
In the spotlight, that is why
When the time is right, that is when

You want me to focus, watch you, and only you
I am not alone here, its us that enjoys
We talk and laugh, that is what people do
Not able to break your spell with our noise

So far yet you are so close you are to me
As if I can pluck you right out of the sky
I like to, trust me I tried, didn’t you see
I feel attracted to your magic, that is why

Completely quiet, silence all evening long
Except for what is washed ashore
As if they know its here where they belong
They are everywhere but you want me to ignore

And then sometimes you try to hide
Not much to go for but some fluffy cloud
Those beams of light make the night exactly right
And I understand you, which makes me proud

We eat away the melted marshmallows
A bit burned by the wild moving flames
Dancing like the movement of sounding cellos
The adults around me making no claims

A dot moves along crossing you in its spaceflight
Traveling to its destined path in ideal alignment
High up in the sky like a running knight
Your face shines light, and shows some excitement

Smiling or sad, who knows how you feel
To me you are a magnificent sight
A drawing in the sky, it looks surreal
Only to vanish again at breaking daylight

But its good to have you near
I’d hope to see you again tomorrow
I’ll be waiting for you to appear
You turn darkness into an inspiring fresco

But I am only 8, and my holiday has come to an end
We will see each other again soon, my mystic friend

Monique Lucy Weberink

2011

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ANNA AKHMATOVA ~ EVERYTHING

in Poetry of Art by

Everything

Everything’s looted, betrayed and traded,

black death’s wing’s overhead.

Everything’s eaten by hunger,

unsated,so why does a light shine ahead?

By day, a mysterious wood,

near the town,breathes out cherry, a cherry perfume.

By night, on July’s sky, deep, and transparent,

new constellations are thrown.

And something miraculous will come

close to the darkness and ruin,

something no-one, no-one, has known,

though we’ve longed for it since we were children.

Anna Akhmatova

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