When Art is Poetry

Art is poetry when the colors display fiery emotions.
Art is poetry when the artist’s imagination soars to the heavens,
Art is poetry when the images inspire and touch the soul.

Art is poetry when the colors display fiery emotions.
Art is poetry when the artist’s imagination soars to the heavens,
Art is poetry when the images inspire and touch the soul.
We grind the grit and rhyme,To weave a tale that’s prime,With words that dance and sing,And make our spirits take wing. We search for just the right phrase,To set our readers’ hearts ablaze,To paint a picture in their minds,And leave them with a sense that…
The Poet’s Craft — Vishal Dutia
I had to share this because it was so inspiring.
The Poor
BY ROBERTO SOSA
TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH BY SPENCER REECE
The poor are many
and so—
impossible to forget.
No doubt,
as day breaks,
they see the buildings
where they wish
they could live with their children.
They
can steady the coffin
of a constellation on their shoulders.
They can wreck
the air like furious birds,
blocking out the sun.
But not knowing these gifts,
they enter and exit through mirrors of blood,
walking and dying slowly.
And so,
one cannot forget them.
from Poetry Foundation
My husband and I met Roberto Sosa when he was invited to be a resident Poet at Montclair State University several years ago. We loved hearing his stories and the way he presented his ideas about humanity and the injustices that happen in life.
When someone needs you
you want to know it’s true
you hope that when they are no longer with you
somehow they still do.
But the truth is that
when someone needs you
you probably need them a lot more.
– Melba Christie
Song is poetry most of the time. The following song by Anne Murray is sheer poetry. Enjoy.
She sights a bird – she chuckles –
she flattens – then she crawls –
she runs without the look of feet –
Her eyes increase to Balls –
Her jaws stir – twitching – hungry –
Her teeth can hardy stand –
She leaps, but Robin leaped the first –
Ah, pussy, of the sand,
the hopes of juicy ripening –
You almost bathed your tongue –
When bliss disclosed a hundred toes –
And fled with every one. –
—Emily Dickinson
Many folks read poetry silently
mindful that they may not
fully understand
the meaning,
the purpose,
the theme,
and the fluidity of a poem.
Why do some poems deserve to be
anthologized,
memorialized,
memorized and even metamorphized
into sweet song lyrics.
I secretly hope mine are someday.
Poems are best when read aloud
I learned that late in life.
They resonate and
infuse your blood stream
with love and passion
as a prayer does.
You become mindful of every breath,
every stress, every meter,
as the words beat in your heart.
I want to hear
the rhymes
but sometimes
I rather repeat just one line
that get lost in the endlessness of time.
Read poetry aloud I say.
Curtains forcing their will
against the wind,
children sleep,
exchanging dreams with
seraphim. The city
drags itself awake on
subway straps; and
I, an alarm, awake as a
rumor of war,
lie stretching into dawn,
unasked and unheeded.
Rocks mark the grave
Tears water the earth
Daffodils bloom
Don’t forget to write a stanza or line from a favorite poem by any of the following poets:
Maya Angelou
Sylvia Plath
Ezra Pound
Shel Silverstein
Join the celebration! Read a poem a day! Send a poem to someone you love. Join Poemattic’s Challenge. Every day I will list the name of a few poets. All you need to do is copy a quote from a poem by one of the poets listed that day. Make sure you give us the poet’s name. Tell us why you chose the poet and why you picked the specific stanza or line. Please publish it in the comments section. Happy reading! Happy writing! Remember “Poetry is Life! Life is poetry!”
When art saves your soul,
When art helps you to breathe,
then all you do is art.
The love art brings to life
is too great and never
lets you down.
The love of art
helps one heal
from loss and grief.
The love of art
is a permanent emotion.
it stays and does not abandon you.
it fills part of the void that
is in your broken heart.
My dreams are always surreal
Depicting scenes in someone else’s dream
that somehow I intercept
or is it that someone somehow invades mine.
This time Shakespeare came to show me
where he wrote Romeo and Juliet.
No doubt inspired
by the sweet aroma of a lavender field.
Should it have been a tragedy at the end?
Then so unexpectedly
came a whisper from the Bard,
“Alas that love, whose view is muffled still
Should without eyessee pathways to his will.”
I created this image on an AI App. DALl-E 2
Please leave you comments.
My mother had her very own philosophy about life. I did not agree with some of her ideas but I do remember her wonderful resilience and strength. This poem is dedicated to her memory.
My Very Own Architect
The space between moments
are only discovered by
those mindful of their surroundings.
Magical surprises spring up
to boggle and fascinate the mind
and to continue to ask questions
yet unanswered.
The memories of an old love
find their way into my soul;
sending regards to one special moment.
So unique it cannot be revealed.
The space between moments,
are filled with sounds,
of streaming rivers,
and soft winds
whispering the secrets
of eternity.
Just listen!
Words and titles borrowed from the posts of:
John Coyote
Catherine Arcolio, Leaf And Twig
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