TRADITIONAL   ART   IS   INTERNATIONAL

Traditional art works is of material that is familiar to the public

in style and subject.   It may cover a part of the culture of a

group of peoples and can include even folk art.  It is often of

everyday scenes and happenings,  things the majority of

viewers can relate to from personal knowledge or experience.

It may also be more general with an International connection.

Most viewers will find some familiarity with the art or in

its poetic narration.

POETRY   IS  UNIVERSAL

Poetry is descriptive, explorative writing that is read with sound

and rhythm in formal or open stanzaic organization.   It often

narrates tales in figurative language and creative word pictures.

Title:  PURPLE  STRIKE

Artist:  Faye Facer      www.FacerArtStudio.com

STORM   ARTIST

Lightning is an artist

that paints the purple sky;

frames the clouds

in silver edges and

floods the night

with eerie light

that mystifies.

With jagged finer

it touches the earth

and the crash echoes

across the land.

Man and beast huddle

in awe and fear

as the voice

of the thunder god

seems to threaten

their very life.

Then later,  when

the storm has fun its

race and gone,

that wonderful

after-the-rain smell

permeates every space.

Come the morning,

and man and beast

reappear, new

plants spring forth

for the earth

has been reborn

once again

...ffacer...

Title:  SURF  WATCH

Artist:  Byron Pickering    www.pickeringstudio.com 

COWBOY   SAILOR

I stand upon the shore and see

the ocean wide in front of me.

I wonder at its ports of call,

minds's imagination enthralled.

I dream of frothing wave on sand,

arriving in a far-off land

where maids of every shade divine

dance through my quixotic mind.

I hear the deep call out my name...

""Come!  See if my wilds you can tame.

Ride me like a cowboy strong

Who's lassoed me with leather thongs,

then roped and tied my crashing waves

and thought he's taught me to behave.

But leather lashings will wear out;

I'll escape once more, without a doubt.

Oh, cowboy sailor, do you not know

you cannot tame this beast below?

I allow your cowboy's game,

your riding high on ocean's mane.

All human kind is fascinated

with talest they have fabricated,

but the depth of my stories is immensely deep

and I have tales of which we will not speak.

So cowboy sailor, ride on, ride on;

attend you to my siren song...

I'll sing to you a lullaby,

awaken you with storms that fly;

I'll share with you sunsets, sunrises

on placid days with silvered oceans,

I'll soothe your soul with rocking motions

Like a bronco buster wild, upon the crested seas,

you'll be bucked and tossed...mine to do with as I please.

Then ride on, cowboy sailor, ride,

rushing in and out on frenzied tide.

I'll be your mistress, your threat, your curse,

your love for life, times good or worse.

Stand you upon golden beach and gaze!

Come cowboy sailor! Learn my ways.""

I stand upon the shore and see

the ocean wide in front of me.

I wonder of its ports of call,

mind's imagination enthralled.

I dream of frothing waves on sand,

arriving in exotic lands,

of ships and boats and nights at sea,

endless horizons to be seen.

...Sonna Berghaier...

Title:   TELEGRAPH    POLE

Artist:  Derek  Dohren      http://www.derekdohren.com 

THE   SINGING   LINES

Sentinels across a lonesome land

Bringing news both sad and grand,

Stretching from shore to shore

Across a continent - what's more:

Three-dots-three-dashes,  the SOS

News for all from East to West,

.

These lines replaced the Pony Express,

Next came the radio and TV no less.

Now its computers and e-mail,

Communicaion must prevail.

And the singing lines are left behind -

A heritage of history well defined.

                    ...ffacer...

Title:  DEENA,  Cocker Spaniel

Artist: ORPHIA  BARELLA     http://www.freewebs.com/gimmal

PREPARE  TO  PROMINADE

I was brushed and combed, bathed

and primped until my fur was a sheen.

My coat reflects the rays of the sun,

And I am beautiful and squeeky clean.

My toenails have been filed and clipped,

Even my inner ears have been stripped.

I will take my favorite lady companion

for a stroll in the park this afternoon,

She will show me off and I will preen,

An admiring crowd will gather soon.

And both of us are proud to be seen.

My lady will smile and step out light

For she and me, our world is right.

...ffacer...

Title:  CIRCLE   OF   GULLS

Artist:  Ruth Tinkham Avery    www.FacerArtStudio.com

GULLS   AND   A   MOUNTAIN   STREAM

I was first attracted by the noisy calls,

Of gulls circling against the canyon walls,

The only thing that quiets a gull

Is when his crop is stuffed full.

Something is exciting them from below.

Its too early for the seasonal salmon run,

Is it a bunch of hatchlings having fun?

Surely its not garbage in the stream,

Polluting waters that were so clean.

Sad that such damage cannot be undone.

Gulls will always do their natural thing,

And it can be done from on the wing;

Gabage carnivores they be

Cleaning up the streams and sea.

So we tolerate their noisy screechy dings.

...ffacer...

Title:  Night   Walk

Artist: Faye Facer     www.FacerArtStudio.com

This painting is an illustration of the

word-picture described by the poem.

If you read the poem with the painting in sight,

you will feel the push of the wind at your back;

hear  the undulating whistle as it passes through

the bare tree branches, listen to the crunch of dry

leaves underfoot and the scuffling crackle as they

scatter along the ground; smell the ripeness of the

season while a night bird serenades.

THE  NIGHT WIND AND I

The nightwind and I

watch in solitude

the threads and shreds of cloud

slowly dance across the rising moon

flitting black shadows pass in silence

as nightjars feed

bright silver light pours down

to cover with gilt what it touches

a drift of petals and leaves

slowly fall and cover the ground

in piles moved by the wind

gently scenting the air

all in silence

as the hour grows late

breathe deep

stir and stretch

recall my dreaming soul

draw the silken wrap close

while I watch the moon go down

I hear the song of the night wind

the shadows deepened

as the hours passed

a serenade sounded clearly

from an unseen night bird.

I turn and the night wind

blows me home.

              ...Sherry Lynne Mitchell...

Title:  RIVER  LANDSCAPE

Artist:  Himanshu Saini      www.ArtWanted.com/himanshusaini 

YESTER YEAR

I seem to feel a lingering kinship here,

As from another life in another time;

Flitting bits of memories,  not wholly clear,

Yet somehow I know this home was mine.

I recall the smell of peat moss in the fire place,

The naked statue of Aphrodite on the mantle;

Rows of leather bound books in a glass case;

Some household catalogues with picture samples.

The kitchen that was big and dark and smoky,

And a giant black woman that ruled this room.

Here the aromas were wonderful and m-m tasty.

Mis-behaves were banished with the broom.

The salon, varnished dark: grandfather's room

Where he smoked his pipe;  told tales of  long ago,

In younger days he'd been a gentleman's groom.

And once he had to kill a hell-bent deranger foe.

A cozy home full of love and warm memores,

Family ties stayed close, even when far away.

Friends and neighbors visited; even dignitaries,

Welcome to all in the open country way.

Now as I gaze upon this peaceful painted scene,

I live again in that ancient time I rememger so;

Back when country life was pure and clean.

Would if I could return?  Don't really know.

                                               ...Brian James...

Title:  SIGNS  OF  FALL

Artist:  Jerry Yarnell     www.YarnellSchoolofFineArt.com 

GOLDEN  AUTUMN

Summer season time is waning,

The shades of green interval fading,

Changes showing everywhere

With Indian Summer colors fair.

Soon the golden leaves will fall,

Comes v-strings of water fowl;

Elk bugling on the ridge,

Warnings of winter's coming fridge.

Grasses are brown and stiff,

The pawings of winter fodder gifts;

Underfoot no currying sound,

Rodents all have gone to ground.

                            ...fface...

Title:  LOST TRAIL - WINTER

Artist:  Tom Christopher   

http://landscapesbychristopher.blogspot.com 

LONELY  TRAIL

Lonely trail along the river bank,

Lost beneath the winter snow,

Used only by grouse and wolves

And sometimes by a timid doe.

Spring will open the trail again

For hikers and family picnic outings,

Some joggers running to stay in shape,

Fishermen with no catch for counting.

Come fall with all its brilliant colors;

And hunters chasing antlered game.

But Mother Nature on scheduled time

Will bring winter back again.

...ffacer...

Title:  FLORAL  AND  FLUTTERBY

Artist:  Pat  Grant    http://patgrantstudios.com

"It's  Just a  Pigment of your imagination"

That floral and flutterby share color contamination,

Needy of one another for the duration;

Pollen for food and for future creations,

Both have a short and beautiful life,

A life of beauty; a  life without strife.

                           ...ffacer...

Title:  FOR  GRAMPS

Photo by:  Robert Stagemyer     www.villageartgallery.com

NOT   FORGOTTEN

I left the trail to walk in the woods

and happened upon an old cemetary.

It looked old and forgotten, with

tree limbs and leaves on the ground.

Some stones were standing, others

 lay fallen in the earth as the weather

in changing seasons covered them

with vines and weeds all around.

It was peaceful,  quiet,  and I thought

it seemed abandoned and lost in time.

The names and dates were old and

seemed forgotten and alone.

And then,  I saw it,  A jar with silk flowers

and a child's drawing with the words

"for gramps" placed with love and

held there with a stone.

                                   ,,,Robert Stagemyer... 

Title:     GEE  GEE

Artist:  Michael  Stirling    Use on site  form to contact  artist

JUST   RESTIN'

In the light of the full moon

I stand relaxed and content,

Knowing tomorrow before noon

I'll get my mash of nourishment.

Then later,  under saddle,  hit the trail,

To gallop and trot and gallop again.

Hard training for the endurance trials;

My athletic condition I must retain.

I won the race last year, expect  to win again,

The endurance 'Champ' title I will retain.

                                         ...ffacer...

Title:  LEST  WE  FORGET- Nov. 11th/Eternally

www.Google.ca/RemembranceDay 

STAFF  SERGEAMT  OLAF  SCHMID

His name won't go down in history

He didn't sing nor dance

He didn't fill the silver screen

But every day he took a chance

His life on the line for others

Better than the best of the best they say

Standing taller than the tallest

Saturday was his last day.

A legendary figure said one officer

Aphenomenal husband said his wife

A loving father and soulmate

Another soldier lost his life.

Superlatives can't do the man justice

They'd be lost on his five year old step son

One can only imagine the tears

When his mum told him Olaf has gone

Sixty-four explosive devices he defused

On a five month tour of Afghanistan

Now he lies low in a coffin

Yet still stands tall as a man

And the murderers will call it a victory

Dance jigs of joy in Helmand

Whilst back home they weep in Winchester

And reason to understand.

His name won't be spoken tomorrow

He didn't use a club or a bat

He didn't kick a ball for a fortune

He had no sponsors name on his hat

He wore the Soldier's Khaki uniform.

                          ...William Smith...

Title:  Lest We Forget

Honoring All our Honored Veterans

www.FreeFoto.com

MAN  IS  BORN  NAKED

Man is born naked but dies in a suit,

A coat of many colors but lost in the persuit

Of health wealth and happiness,

Freedom for all.

Some sit behind a desk; some heed the call;

Brass button heros

Shout their names out loud,

Sent out in khaki suit returning in a shroud.

Man is born naked some they die the same.

Starvation in the third world,  our eternal shame,

Sing a song of sixpence to save a poor man's life,

Throw enough food away to keep a village alive;

Sit and watch the daily news, turn your head away,

They shouldn't show those starvng kids, it really spoils my day.

And we all sing along to the headlines that they write,

Believing every word cos'  it's there in black and white,

Till ' we look a little deeper and read between the lines,

Where the lies are hard to swallow in more enlightened times,

Cos' big brother is watching the large and the small.

It's a technological nightmare for the boys who want it all.

There's microchips everywhere watching every move.

You'll wake to a knocking door if the watchers don't approve

Oh yes, there's always someone about to recruit

Another man born naked to die in a suit.

                                                                     ...William Smith...

Title: Grims Reapers Hour Glass

http://psdguides.com hourglass

.

GRIM  REAPER  HOUR  GLASS

Its said tha time is money. This is obvious.

It takes time to mint it, tax it, blow it.

Time is the irreplaceable in every formula.

Measures weather, measures moods.

The Universe is clockwork wondrous,

which poses the pendulum as a guillotine,

destroys in order to create anew.

...Norbert R. Lopez...

SANDS  OF  TYME

The sands of tyme continue shifting on,

Not to man nor beast does it show fond.

Each life has its alloted tyme,

Each must harvest his own mine,

And to his hour glass,  his life is bound.

Cannot be stopped,  this flow of hour glass,

So plan it well,  enjoy it all to the very last,

Work hard but take time to play,

Make some friends along the way.

Hour glass gives  tyme to finish final task.

                                     ... ffacer...

Title: SNOW SCENE  for Aunt Kay

Artist: Rick Parker    Contact:  rick.parker@xl-t.com

 RELUCTANT  TO  LEAVE - The Cardinal

First snow and the weather's still holding.

The Cardinal lingers, reluctant to be leaving,

Only plants left above the snow are weeds

And most have already scattered their seeds.

Soon he must join the other late flocks.

This time of year, weather often mocks.

The Cardinal does not sow nor reap,

With instincts he must hunt and seek

For seeds and gritty bits of sand,

Following Nature ways as planned.

This cardinal may delay, stay late.

Soon he must meet his Southern date.

We all must navigate at Nature's pace,

Whether a short or an endurance racae.

To live and put the elements to use

In wisdom, without waste or abuse.

To survice, Cardinal has seasonal aims,

For a storage bin he cannot sustain

Cardinal and Man are much the same

Struggling to survive in life's game.

...ffacer...

Title:   The  Last  Post

Artist:   Gail Young     http://www.islandgroveart.com

Island  Moat

Stalwart remnant from the past,

Corner post once claimed the land,

Like a protective inland moat

An owners claim to note.

Installed to guard this terra verte;

Still guarding the abandoned turf.

Battered by hail,  rain and snow,

By winter winds - Northern blow,

Bleached by summers suns hot,

Weakened by floods, beginning to rot.

So Nature takes over as it should:

Another bit of History, lost for good.

          ....ffacer....

Title:  Daylight Dawns with Nothing TO Do

Artist:Ron  Morrison

http://watercolorworks.blogspot.com

For  Fins  -  For  Chrome

Every young man schemed for deals,

His merit stance, judged by his wheels.

Co-signed by Dad for a small loan

For flying fins and polished chrome;

Wheels the heart of a young mans pride

And bait to lure young girls to ride

To secret hidden spots in the park;

Backseat coaxing the girls to spark.

Those the days when fins were wings

And the boy with wheels was a King.

Summer holidays spent on the beach,

No end of joys one could reach,

Weekend drag races on back trails;

Such grand fun till the motor fails.

Boys mature, carefree days put behind

And his place in life sets out to find.

Sometimes memories return to roam,

Recalling the days of fins and chrome

Now stand rusting in a deserted yard

But in memory, still held in regard.

                             ...Brian James...

Title:   Grapes and Wine

http:www.rezn-review.com

NO  COMFORT

No comfort at the bottom

No joy with the pop

Fighting for tomorrow

From the bottom to the top.

Making out like Tarzan

Swinging with the vine

Waking with the feeling

A days a long, long time. 

Guard with your life the twister

Pig tail your best friend

Chile for the winter

Perspective rainbows bend

Blanc to freeze the moment

Blush to put things right

Negramano for the flavour

Shiraz to fight the fight.

You know its not the answer

Tell yourself to get a grip

Bare your back to mirror

Sound barrier breaking whip.

Finger slip the bottom

Tongue to rim of glass

Desperate for the last drop

Lost in the morass.

Fuddle head the reward

Guts that twist and turn

Cheeper slides to cheaper

Feel the throat burn.

Anything to forget

Anything to say;

"I'm a fucking survivor

Here's to another day."

          ..Wm [smiffy] Smith...