RA
Reaching Out
Posts: 216
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Post by RA on May 8, 2005 7:19:46 GMT
This song from Rufus Wainwright sung so beautifully and from the standpoint of a woman (or him as a woman). You may have to hear it to understand the sweetness more but ths made me cry:-
There I was in uniform Looking at the art teacher I was just a girl then; Never have I loved since then
He was not that much older than I was He had taken our class to the Metropolitan Museum He asked us what our favorite work of art was, But never could I tell it was him Oh, I wish I could tell him -- Oh, I wish I could have told him
I looked at the Rubens and Rembrandts I liked the John Singer Sargents He told me he liked Turner Never have I turned since then No, never have I turned to any other man
All this having been said, I married an executive company head All this having been done, a Turner - I own one Here I am in this uniformish, pant-suit sort of thing, Thinking of the art teacher I was just a girl then; Never have I loved since then No, never have I loved any other man
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Post by Al Truest on May 8, 2005 17:27:19 GMT
Thanks for your comment DeLacy. I'm very much enjoying reading these forums right now as I've always seen myself as something of a clunk head when it comes to the arts. I wouldn't be concerned. The extent of my expertise is a semester of art history, and art books I've purchased from 'Border's' A little research on-line helps. But, I know what touches me, and I seek more. I discover some real gems from public television's series "Classic Arts Showcase". If you wait 'til the end of the piece, they will display all the credits. This was my introduction to Martha Agerich (piano) then consequently Ravel, Chopin etc. Yes it does. I don't know that I feel at all 'cultured' - I just know what I like. My curious nature compels me to search out sources and influences. There are no art snobs here, that I know of, to make anyone feel ill at ease. And that's what counts! ;D
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delacy
Under Ice
"Let's exchange the Experience....."
Posts: 11
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Post by delacy on May 8, 2005 18:12:39 GMT
It is often like ''let me write this down before it is gone'' But much of the feeling of control for me is that over my emotions more than the words. Being able to tap into truth, as seen by one's self at least, comes from letting go of convention and pretense. To see what others may have missed is what good poetry often is. The art is passing on truth and beauty. Many times revealing beauty where it is not ordinarily found. And truth may just be a feeling or a revelation about where life is taking you. Are you a pathfinder, or just along for the ride? (rhetorical question of course) Oh, I think one can spot a pathfinder a mile off. My shins are covered in scratches and scuffs from cutting my way through... and I look for the same traits in others and Ra, for one, will identify with that! The gift is knowing without study and doing without question. Your comment Al led me to remember a snippet of a poem by the Irish actor Richard Harris... 'To be a poet and not know the trade, To be a lover and repel all women, Twin ironies by which great saints are made, The agonising pincher jaws of heaven.' There should be no snobbery in Art, no distain felt by those who know what they like, but know not it's name. I'd call that a spiritual reaction to beauty, as pure a reaction as a small child to it's mother; the child does not know or care that their mother is beautiful, all he knows is that he loves her.
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Post by Al Truest on May 19, 2005 1:32:59 GMT
beth
you can't look back upon that wretched guise a lie you try to overcome to no avail yourself to be with your own kind of people you deride
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Post by Neo Stella on May 29, 2005 21:01:26 GMT
LIVE BAIT
The tide is out I'm high and dry exposed to many preditors, Yet in my quest I find the risk worth potential creditors. The time I wait feels long and straight yet deep within the reason, no thought just action some extraction preparing for the season.
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Post by Al Truest on May 31, 2005 1:16:48 GMT
Under the Persimmon Tree
In my autumn years it seems that I dwell upon the broken dreams a galling task to look within at what has grown this thickened skin a fragile soul now grown dark that shuns the joy love should impart a trust betrayed a dream denied a spirit with no will to cry Under the persimmon tree I find this world is not meant for me with roots so deep in search of truth yet all that yields is bitter fruit.
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W.HI.P
Moving
On the edge of the labyrinth
Posts: 561
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Post by W.HI.P on May 31, 2005 1:27:18 GMT
See her face shine in the moonlight, soft as silk and white as cream. Silently I watch her slumber-quietly kiss her cheek, then lay my weary head beside her, close my eyes, and dream. In the morning she'll awake, cast of night, and shine like summer, as she dances all around me, she sparkles all around me like a stream. Her hair is full of meadow sweet, she's wraped in leafy green. On bended knee before you, with tears in my eyes. I pledge that till my dying day, my sword is by your side, forever on your side. And I love you more than life. I swear that you mean eveything to me. Everything I'd sacrifice, if my lady, you would favor me. For brighter than the stars your smile. You hold the richest sunset in those eyes. You are Mother Nature. Fear not lady, I'll defend you. In your cause lay down my life. When concrete dragons threaten, they shall see my metal gleam, and die if they try to steal your cloak of leafy green. Of all the things worth dying for, none sweeter have I seen, than the rose that is my nature, in her cloak of leafy green.
"The Wolf"
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Post by Neo Stella on May 31, 2005 20:08:06 GMT
W.HI.P, such sweet and tender feelings promote steel and deep resolve. How is it sometimes such beauty turns in upon itself and causes such chaos?
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W.HI.P
Moving
On the edge of the labyrinth
Posts: 561
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Post by W.HI.P on Jun 1, 2005 19:26:56 GMT
W.HI.P, such sweet and tender feelings promote steel and deep resolve. How is it sometimes such beauty turns in upon itself and causes such chaos? Human nature it seems, I can only excuse us with a conception that we are still in an infant state.
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Post by Neo Stella on Jun 2, 2005 8:27:20 GMT
W.HI.P, your awareness makes an impression upon my soul!
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Iago
Reaching Out
Stepping out off the page.....
Posts: 367
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Post by Iago on Dec 5, 2005 0:29:13 GMT
Ethereal love
Worlds away you are my love a perilous journey to be sure I'd climb the highest mountain not for I'm too old and I know my lot.
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Post by lost boy on Dec 15, 2005 3:50:19 GMT
my bleeding heart beats not for you tis to myself I'm forever true 'shall never share a warm embrace or caress a soft and loving face
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Iago
Reaching Out
Stepping out off the page.....
Posts: 367
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Post by Iago on Dec 22, 2005 22:34:48 GMT
I want you but it cannot be 'tis only a dream a brave new world a place that is not real but still the place that i abide.
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Post by Uno on Feb 11, 2006 2:27:17 GMT
One world?
In third world squalor bloated kids die whilst we assemble a record size pie AIDS will claim their moms and dads while we chuckle at all those 'boner pill' ads
The women of Islam are murdered and maimed caught between men's fundamentalist claims a middle east god at odds with the west but in the battle for oil is where we invest
A god with no humor is no god at all depictions of irony have started a call for the heads of the infidels in Europe and west that lampoon at sacrosanct icons behest
But a world now in turmoil still looks for our lead yet we are consumed by insatiable greed the least of our brethren is in a dark age but instead of our love all they see is our rage.
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Post by Al Truest on Feb 20, 2006 2:09:10 GMT
Consequence of thought
Amidst a Maelstrom swirling round inside a tumult of vying ways 'tis here at peace I hover quite whilst life and death around me play
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