Title:  DUSK  A-FLame

     Sky's the Limit - WC Ref

There is an  ART  OF  POETRY

  A flaming sunset gives off warmth  and

a quiet stillnes and relaxation with peace of mnd.

Can even lull one into false security.

Or depending on the individual mood, flames

in the sky may leap and spread to hot anger;

the mind restless, seeking rebellion, hate  ;

alert to any slight that could start a fight.

 And yet as night blankets the day; faded

flames burn away the anger and stress.

The mind, now  cleansed, is open to dreams,

softer thoughts creep in quietly.

No wonder the man in the moon smiles.

Because there  is also -  POETRY IN ART

--------//-------

Title:  Maja naga

Artist: Francisco Goya     Museo del Prada

THE  GYPSY  (adult)

The Prado in Madrid

a cool tent of marble

set back from the Retiro Park.

I have come

to see the gypsy girl.

Goya painted her twice.

Maja Desnuda is her soul

the other, the clothed version,

is a mannequin.

She is not shy.

She reclines naively

adopting a position

of demure sexuality,

a gauche enticement.

Her breasts are aroused,

Her eyes calculataing

but ready for amore:

Perhaps she is figuring

her pay by the hour?

Perhaps she is weighing

the cost of love?

I stand as near to her

as Goya would have.

I feel the space between us -

it is pressed and curved

like the tip of a brush.

Her belly button is inwards.

Running vertically from it

a line of fine hair

that points downward

to her vagina.

Her gravity

tucked into that purse of flesh

like a sleeping lioness.

A less compromising artist

would not have painted

that delicate trail of hair

yet it is his master stroke.

A hammer blow of reverence.

It is as if her belly

were marked with a holy sign

A finger pointing to the moon

that only gypsys can read

on the dark surface

of this world.

                  ...Eric Ashford...

-------//.......

Title:  A  WALK  IN  THE  PARK

Artist:Steve  Ponsford   http://painters-online.co.uk

OLD  FRIENDS

Elderly neighbors out for morning walk,

Comfortable silence; sometimes they talk.

   Widowed both for too many years,

   Concord now the sadness and tears.

   Reminiscing when young nd bold,

   Tales told, told again and retold,

Compatible in their own time and place.

Part of life's journey, the natural race.

This morning, sun shining on early mist,

Mystery forms in the wavering wisps;

Mesmerized by this beautiful sight,

Eyes frozen on the visions in light.

Does this path of yesterday

Now lead to a newer way?

There was a void of all earthly sound,

Yet the silence its self was a sound.

So quick the mist lifted; visions gone.

A morning bird sang his ode to dawn.

Two friends walking the path of return,

In each mind a thought of concern.

One asked, "Did you hear a name?"

"Oh yes, for me it was the same."

Silent again as they walked on home,

Assured that they are never alone.

And comfortable in this certainty,

Mates in life - Mates in Eternity.

      ...ffacer...

--------//--------

Title:  DreamCatcher

Artist:  Loretta  Fasan http://www.lorettafasan.com

Visions

Lovely Lady in braids and lace,

Gentle woman; lady of grace.

A vision in pastel mauve.

A rare gem; a treasure trove.

Do you await a gentleman beau?

Or just a lovely vision in a pose.

Lovely Lady with blooms and beads,

Do you hear a lover's plead?

What dreams with you abide.

Are you someone's waiting bride?

Do you catch a lover in your net.

Someone you have not yet met

Or do you float about in dreams?

Too Lovely a Lady to be alone!

           ...ffacer...

Title: Hendrijke Wading in a Stream

Artist: Rembrandt Harmenz Van Rijn

http://stukesguild.wordpress.com

"

An Experience of Love

An exquisite expression of love.

Painting of the artist's lover and later wife.

It may be called eratic......but

in such a delicate, gentle, loving way that

never allows for something more lecherous.

It has an aura of solidity much more

than just a portrait......"

                               .....guild comments...

Title:  The  Abandoned  Boat

Artist: Steve  Ponsford

Artist found inspiration after reading of a man who

murdered his wife and left the lady in an

abandoned boat called 'Sally.'  A salty tale indeed! 

Beneath  a  Troubled   Sky

It could have been the Salty Sally, or any other name,

Abandoned on a lonely piece of deserted beach,

Rusting away in rain; paint bleached and peeling;

Salt crusted; sand brased by the shifting winds.

A few scars and dents; broken window panes;

Barnacle skeletons on the hulks under-side.

Lashed down with kelp covered anchor ropes

Rocking and creaking with each gust of the wind.

Death picks time and place in an abandoned boat.

Beneath a dark and forboding  troubled sky

On this lonely deserted strip of seaside shore,

Where twisted hate, out of hand, accelerates

Lost control, so evil delivers the fatal blow,

Dark windows hide the evidence of death.

So a life is lost on a lonely deserted beach.

And the boat rocks with each gust of the wind.

The sea gulls have flown back to the open sea.

Abandoning the evil that lingers there on the beach.

                             ...ffacer...

Title:  Early  Smmer  Evening

Artist:  Randy Pitts

Contact: On--line email form

To  Each  in  Turn

Night will not let day

 tarry in overtime,

And so Sol brings out

his  bightest to display.

His palette is the rainbow

Each color mixed to glow.

Days last defiant specatrum

with promist to return.

Night must follow day;

Nature gives each its turn.

                   ..facer...

Tittle:   Sparrow Hawks (American Kestrel)

Artist:  Athos  Menaboni

http://www.faculty.ucr.edu/~legneref/birds/jpg/avex

Ekphrastic poem -

On a Drawing by Athos Menaboni

The female sparrow hawk, fierce,

glorious, hovers above her mate.

Menaboni sketches her with beak open.

I imagein her call, "killy, killy killy.}

The male wings fold down;

his claws wrap around

the branch of Georgia pine;

his head twists around and up

to fix her with black, marvelous eyes.

His russet back is rounded but not meek.

She is set to hunt, is ready to fly wide and long.

He has just flown in. His belly is almost full,

he's at rest, reflecative, quiet.

Perhaps she'll settle close to her partner,

or he'll leave his perch to join her in fearsome flight.

The hawks will decide in their next quick moments,

but the artist has made his choice and so does not care.

                                               ...Nonnie Augustine...

                                         http://www.augustineconfessions@blogspot.com

Tittle:  SADIE - 4 yrs

Artist:   W.Rogers

Contact via 'on site form'

One  Little  Girl

The serious dol-like face

of an angel like child.........,

beneath a crown of roses -

 the innocense of youth

Let us wish her the very best;

her road a pleasant success.

What does she see to the right?

A glimpse into her trials of life?

Or perhaps  just imaginations;

curiosity of the moment,

And this is as it should be,

Staying happy in the now.

Dreans if the next moment;

simplicity of today enjoyments.

And that is all goo and right

For in destiny she can only be

For this one time only

An innocent little girl.

               ...Justin Blake...

..................//..................

Title:   I  am  Snealer  One

Artist:  Gian Carlo

Contact via Site email form.

One of Two

Why I am abandoned, I'v not a clue,

For a long time I was one of two.

We did chores, worked hard at play;

once we won a race on Fair Day.

Weplayed soldier, - baseball;

climbed tall trees and did not fall.

Come Halloween, was all for prnks,

Were times when my smell got rank.

Sunday was for prayers and sermons; 

flirting with girls, suffering hormones.

And after there'd be picnics in the park.

We'd chase the girls when it got dark.

Loved those days  of run. fun and play,

Right sad since my mate went away.

Once long ago as a pair being two.

Yes, it's true, even a shoe can be blue.

As one I cannot walk or skip or run

and hopping is not very much fun.

This being alone is the saddest fate,

So if you come acress my lost mate,

Tell him I have lost all will....

Laying here, I am waiting still.

..............//............

.

DANCE   OF   GRACE

To the Royal Ballet is our quest,

A night of culture - balcony guest;

To mingle with the beautiful people;

Polite conversation, manners agreeable.

The ballerina, so graceful in flight,

Floating as illusive as light,

Almost becoming part of the mist;

 A picture of grace from ankle to wrist

She carries the audience into the song

Where life is beautiful with no wrong.

"Bravo! Bravo!" from the balcony guest,

At the Royal Ballet - enjoying the best.

                                             .....ffacer.....

Title:  AT   THE   BALLET

Artist:  Phil  Sydell

Http://paintingsofphilsydell.spce.live.com

Title:  The   Shell   Gatherers

Artist: Wendy Rogers

Contact via on-site form.

...///,,,

Collecting the Treasures

Collecting the treasures, a childhood delight,

The rainbow colors are a beautiful sight.

The feet in cool water of moving sand

Makes a magic wonder of all that is grand.

Back to the wind so no sand in the face,

Oh, it's so nice in this wonderful place.

Just one more shell and the basket be full,

Holding my hat against the winds pull.

This painting brings memories long gone by

Of a windy beach, not a cloud in the sky,

And the Pacific wind blowing up my back,

Alert for sneaker wave while filing my sack.

Please, don't look up at the gulls flying by,

Don't want nasty things to land in your eye.

Squawking birds and all,  it's a wonderful day,

Here by the sea is a beautiful place to play.

A memory like this remains in the heart,

Always with you and never to part.

The child within is reminiscing there,

Brings back memories for all to share.

...Peggy Daniels...

Title:   Racing the Big One

Photographer: Al Shemke Jr

Old  Man  on the Beach

The mighty swell raises the green and blue sea

and curls itself into a wave.

The young man positions patiently.

He's handsome and seems quite brave.

With timing he launches - stands easily

Riding the emerald concave.

The  old man notes how the young man behaves --

How he loves the sea and the breeze.

The young man continues the dance with the waves,

Surfing with obvious ease.

The young man rides, then paddles back out --

He doesn't know the old man is about.

The old man keeps watching with oncoming tears,

While praising the young man of twenty-one years.

A cloud yields to the sun's brilliant glare

Which blinds the old man from his stare.

The last light of sun is fading there.

The gulls soar about without care.

The old man can see now, he looks everywhere.

He searches the sea and the land.

The young man has gone, and the twilight is near.

The old man looks down at the sand,

He hastily covers his eyes with his hand,

But out gushes many a tear.

He quiets and senses a soft sound near -

A sound he can barely hear.

Ir's a whisper - it's an angel's voice:

"Your son is fine - he's made his choice.

He works, he plays and he's living life.

He has more fun than he has strife.

Old man you need not gather tears,

Continue to love him through the years."

"You loved the young man from the start,

You taught him all you could.

Your teachings live in his brave heart,

They'll do him less harm than good.

They'll help him through lives' tough part.

And if he ever has a son,

He'll love the lad just as he should ...

And then consided if you would ...

Three of you will have won."

      ...Al Shemke (C)...

................//..............

Title:  So  Sad to be Ten

www.fotolia.com 

On  Turning  Ten

The whole idea of it makes me feel

like I'm coming down with something,

something worse  than any stomach ache

or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--

a kind of measles  of the spirit

a mumps of the psyche,

a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,

but that is because you have forgotten

the perfect simplicity of being one,

and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.

But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit:

at four I was an Arabian wizard.

I could make myself  innvisible

by drinking a glass of milk a certain way

at seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window

watching the late afternoon light.

Back then it never fell so solemnly

against the side of my tree houe,

and my bicycle never leaned against the garage

as it does today

all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning  of sadness,  I say to myself

as I walk through the universe of my sneakers.

It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends;

time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe

there was nothing under my skin but light.

If you cut me I could shine,

But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life

I skin my knees. I bleed

                                                ...Billy  Collins...

Title:  The  Boxer -- Tame

http://www.breederinfocenter.com

His name  is  TAME

Four years after the wedding delicacy

I was blessed with my first pregnancy.

Knowing my personality; a lazy and edgy human,

my mother advised "why don't you keep a pet;

a cat, or dog or even a rat,

buy them young and take care of them.

This way you will learn how to nurse your own infant."

For a change,  agreeing with my Mom,

I went with dear hubby to the Puppies shop. 

They all looked cute and innocent;  the  little retriever,

  labrador,  shepherd,  poodle  and  pug,

My heart was flowing with warmth and love.

I wished to give my home to all of them.

Little did I realize what was behind those naive eyes

Finally, after winning an argument,

with my spouse, I was thrilled

to pick the prettiest dog - the little boxer

Unaware, what the future would hold

I innocently named it 'Tame'.

For a week, daily I shopped

in PetMart for my new found love;

house, toys, food and bowls,

soap and brush and teething bones.

I treated Tame like a new born son.

Initially the partnership was strong

but with passing time,  both realized

we both were wrong

Little food, little pee, little feces

of my darling Tame,  I was so happy to clean.

Then started the teething time, I cried

seeing the torn dress of mine.

Worse was when my party shoes

were eaten like a bowl of stew.

When I scolded I heard its first woof.

Smiled I and forgot it soon. 

The final day finally arrived and

my Ben was born with an

older brother by his side.

Standing on its hind legs ; boxing

with paws as if he just wanted to

hold Ben with all its power.

Within a year, Tame had grown

from a naughty to a

sensible boy of mine.

               ...111 Nyl...

Title:  Old Dog New Tricks

Artist: Marie B. Merritt           www.mariemerritt.com  

NEW  FRIENDS

Nothing so silky and soft as fur

and puer is the love touch of a child

For the faithful family dog with

disposition friendly and mild.

And somehow in daytime play

should this child stray, be lost

Be sure this family dog will hunt,

find the child regardless of cost.

And when he finds her all alone,

gently will he lead her home.

Back where he knows she is safe

and so guarded, no more to roam.

Dog and child are more than friends

they share a bond without end.

......ff.......

Sometimes a painting will tell more than one tale.

Ex: Another may start off on a different theme:

Just Learning

The facination of a child with the tickly feeling of fur

is a grand and learning experience brand new for her.

Parents may lose patience with the question 'why'

And fret and fumble for answers with a sigh,

But dont procrastinate, just respond in kind

And help develop the childs intelligent mind.

...ffacer..

Title:  Nature Rebels

Photo by : Alain Barbezat

Night photo of volcanic eruption

on the Big Island, Hawii

NATURE  on the  RAM - Speaks

Nature puts fear in hearts of man

Breark his controling, yes I can

I may be gentle as a spring lamb

Or destroy Icons - burst out dams

Nuclear cannot duplicate my rams

Get along with me, mortal man

Changes I make and be damnded.

Your damages make an eyesore sight

Most I fix in less than a fortnight

I can make Spring time a delight

Or Summer heat a roasting plight

Fall without color be a dull blight

Freeze your butt on a Winter night

Only I, Nature,  can put it all right.

Mortal man, with scientific brain

Pollutes the fields with acid rain

In wild pristine places, raises cain

Such changes destroy, not sustain

Barren your fields with virus strain

STOP! 'tis mine to decide final maim

Evolution is Nature's solo game.

                         ...ffacer...

Title:  Once Upon A Past

Artist: Faye Facer      www.FacerArtStudio.com

This cabins time has passed on,

Roof shakes, window and door - gone,

Was it a trappers lair?

Or home of a pioneer pair?

Perhaps a criminal hideout home,

A wild place where the wind moans.

Still its a lovely peaceful place

A little fixing, give it a new face

Fit for a family outdoor treat,

A private

SUMMER  RETREAT

A quiet creek and pure fresh air

A place to rest without care

The rolling hills, the smell of trees

Just you, nature, birds and bees.

A little cabin built with love

With floating clouds  high above

In this retreat is quiet and peace

And dreams that never cease.

The creek sings its song; birds do too

A melody so sweet they give to you

Nature at its best, a sight to see

There in this setting, for you, for me.

                          .....Peggy  Daniels.....

..................//................

Title:  Dig Dog Dig

Artist:  Peta  Zeller

http://pzeller.com.au 

This  Be  Rex

A bundle of energy to challenge the tides,

Digging for pleasure and the sand flys,
Inattention he will not abide,

His bark is the voice of a happy guy.

At the beach one plays in the sand,

Rex may not build Castles or Fortes,
But his Canyons in the sand are grand

After all, a dog too is entitled to his sport.

                                            ...ffacer...