Marc Chagall
Saint Jean Cap Ferrat
To Edward Dahlberg
Don't use the telephone.
People are never ready to answer it.
Use Poetry.
~ Jack Kerouac ~
Showing posts with label Book 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book 1. Show all posts
She Walks in Beauty
Vincent Van Gogh
Starry Night Over the Rhone
She Walks in Beauty
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
~ Lord Byron ~
may i feel said he
Marc Chagall
At the Dawn of Love
may i feel said he
may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)
may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she
(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine! said he
(you are Mine said she)
~ e. e. cummings ~
Romeo and Juliet Act 2 Scene 2
Audrey Hepburn
Romeo and Juliet Act 2 Scene 2
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,
Who is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her vestal livery is but sick and green
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O, that she knew she were!
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek!
~ William Shakespeare ~
Tonight I Can Write
Edvard Munch
Starry Night
Tonight I Can Write
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.
'The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her.
To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
~ Pablo Neruda ~
Morning Sun
Edward Hopper
A Woman in the Sun
Morning Sun
The morning sun comes thru my window
All night long I have been waiting
We who are constantly moving
Leaving part of us behind
She moves across the room with easy grace
Mona Lisa smile upon her face
I who am completely mesmerized
By the sunlight in her eyes
~ Bad Company ~
In Your Eyes
Leonardo Da Vinci
The Mona Lisa
In Your Eyes
love I get so lost, sometimes
love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are
all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes
love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps
slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for
our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me
awake and alive
and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes
in your eyes
in your eyes
in your eyes
in your eyes
in your eyes
~ Peter Gabriel ~
~ Peter Gabriel ~
The Winds of Fate
Pablo Picasso
Child With a Dove
The Winds of Fate
One ship drives East, and another drives West,
With the self-same winds that blow;
Tis the set of the sails, and not the gales,
Which tells us the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life;
Tis the set of the soul that decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox ~
One ship drives East, and another drives West,
With the self-same winds that blow;
Tis the set of the sails, and not the gales,
Which tells us the way to go.
Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life;
Tis the set of the soul that decides its goal,
And not the calm or the strife.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox ~
Dreams
Amedeo Modigliani
Woman with a Black Cravat
Dreams
Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
~ Langston Hughes ~
Alone Looking at the Mountain, Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain
Salvador Dali
Solitude
Alone Looking at the Mountain
All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.
~ Li Po ~
Zazen on Ching-t’ing Mountain
The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
Until only the mountain remains.
~ Li Po ~
Yesterday is History
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida
Inverted Reflection in Water
Yesterday is History
Yesterday is History,
‘Tis so far away
Yesterday is Poetry
‘Tis Philosophy
Yesterday is mystery
Where it is Today
While we shrewdly speculate
Flutter both away
~Emily Dickinson ~
Alone
Pablo Picasso
Blue Nude
Alone
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can't use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They've got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I'll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
'Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
~ Maya Angelou ~
Is Anything
Edvard Munch
The Scream
Is Anything
Is what is what it was?
Was what was ever really what it is to me today?
Is what is what is was?
Is anything
Is anything
Is anything
What do you when you don't
What will you when you won't
Lay with me stay with me...fuck me baby
Is what is what it was?
Is anything
Is anything
Is anythng
Florida and blonde at fifteen, before
The sinking in of things, before
the critics in the wings
the critics in the wings
And the constant compromise
How can we have wondered about so much for so long
And received so few answers?
How can we have wondered about so much for so long
How can we have wondered about so much for so long
And received so few answers?
~ The Judybats ~
~ The Judybats ~
When You Are Old
Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
~ William Butler Yeats ~
Mother and Baby
Jan Vermeer
Girl with Ear Ring
Paul Chabas
September Morn
James Abbot McNeil Whistler
Arrangement in Grey and Black:
Portrait of the Painter’s Mother
Portrait of the Painter’s Mother
When You Are Old
When you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.
~ William Butler Yeats ~
Remember
Norman Rockwell
First Love
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
~ Christina Rossetti ~
Killers
Felix Valloton
The Cemetery of Chalons-Sur-Marne
Killers
I am singing to you
Soft as a man with a dead child speaks;
Hard as a man in handcuffs,
Held where he cannot move:
Under the sun
Are sixteen million men,
Chosen for shining teeth,
Sharp eyes, hard legs,
And a running of young warm blood in their wrists.
And a red juice runs on the green grass;
And a red juice soaks the dark soil.
And the sixteen million are killing. . . and killing and killing.
I never forget them day or night:
They beat on my head for memory of them;
They pound on my heart and I cry back to them,
To their homes and women, dreams and games.
I wake in the night and smell the trenches,
And hear the low stir of sleepers in lines--
Sixteen million sleepers and pickets in the dark:
Some of them long sleepers for always,
Some of them tumbling to sleep to-morrow for always,
Fixed in the drag of the world's heartbreak,
Eating and drinking, toiling. . . on a long job of killing.
Sixteen million men.
~ Carl Sandburg ~
The World's Need
Vincent Van Gogh
Flower Beds in Holland
The World's Need
So many gods, so many creeds,
So many paths that wind and wind,
While just the art of being kind,
Is all the sad world needs.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox ~
The Soldier
Francisco de Goya
Tres de Mayo
The Soldier
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
~ Rupert Brooke ~
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