BLUESSSSSSS....

"I collect DREAMS"  Elaine Erig

AGAIN AND AGAIN BELOVED

I EVEN LOST

.... LIKE A MERCEDES

.... like a mercedes

We are pleased to let you know that your artwork/photography has been accepted into the 2010 ArtWanted.com calendar! The date you will be featured on is: 11/18/2010

WE LOST SAHA BORIS!


He died on 16/06/2010 .

We are immersed in deep sorrow.

TONY CRAGG

 Tony Cragg was born in Liverpool in 1949. He worked as a laboratory technician
 at the Natural Rubber Producers Research Association (1966-68) 
before attending Gloucestershire College of Art and Design, Cheltenham College
, and the Royal College of Art, London (1973-77). Tony Cragg has lived and worked
 in Wuppertal, Germany, since 1977.

THE BIRD THAT BELONGS TO THE SONG...

Digital image creation and manipulation by Elaine Erig

.................................

frayed sunlight
between the pilings –
summer’s end

..................................

cornflowers —
between the clouds
a handful of sky

.................................

a rainbow
over autumn maples…
the laundry forgotten

..................................

drowsy morning…
the bird that belongs
to the song….

by Laryalee Fraser

Laryalee Fraser is a retired reporter/photographer, living in British Columbia. Writing poetry became part of the healing process after her husband's death in 2000, and she continues to enjoy the challenge, experimenting with digital art as an accompaniment to poems on her Web site. Gardening is another passion, giving her the chance to connect with nature while pondering those life questions that drift so close, yet always remain out of reach....

BEFORE NIGHT FALLS - REINALDO ARENAS

TO THE SUN - DIAL

STEEL SCULPTURE BY ELAINE ERIG

To The Sun-Dial

a poem by John Quincy Adams


To The Sun-Dial
(Under the Window of the Hall of the House
of Representatives of the United States)

To The Sun-Dial
Thou silent herald of Time's silent flight!
Say, could'st thou speak, what warning voice were thine?
Shade, who canst only show how others shine!
Dark, sullen witness of resplendent light
In day's broad glare, and when the noontide bright
Of laughing fortune sheds the ray divine,
Thy ready favors cheer us--but decline
The clouds of morning and the gloom of night.
Yet are thy counsels faithful, just, and wise;
They bid us seize the moments as they pass--
Snatch the retrieveless sunbeam as it flies,
Nor lose one sand of life's revolving glass--
Aspiring still, with energy sublime,
By virtuous deeds to give eternity to Time

VACATIONS IN FORENCE

 FOR 5 DAYS

BETRAYING FINGERS

KIM HONG - TAE . Primitivesses + Child ´s Mind , mixed midia on canvas 41x53 cm

Mo Mo

BETRAYING FINGERS


At night I reach out my hands
Bright fingers, pointing
in the direction of roses, my head bent silently
to the blooming, withered
and soft fingers, pointing
in the direction of waves, my head bent silently
to the calm
cold fingers, pointing
in the direction of the cliff, my head bent silently
to those who remain
I slip into spring water pebbles cloves
My hair has grown like wheat, but can't be harvested

At night I reach out my hands
rough fingers pointing
in the direction of language, my head bent silently
to the talking, listening
and slim fingers, pointing
in the direction of a miracle, my head bent silently
to the existing, non-existing
and bent fingers, pointing
in the direction of a dream, my head bent silently
to the beautiful scenes and nightmares
At night, I dream I'm thrown into a slaughterhouse
Death is not a secret, death is a gaze

Dawn is here, the fingers are still pointing
in the direction of a song
Once I sang, but now I have lost my voice
The sun has risen, the firm fingers pointing
in the direction of mother
I was born there, but now I am drifting farther away
The sun is blinding my eyes, the trembling fingers
pointing in the direction of a city
which holds a funeral for me
as if I were a puppet

who doesn't show any sign of life unless touched by a hand
Tears stain my face, I can't see
what direction the last finger is pointing
If it's pointing in the direction of my imagination
then it's the direction of time
which is also your direction
After someone said the water was flowing so fast
you came over and made a whirlpool
to drown me, to choke me
then you pointed your finger suddenly
in the direction of the void

translated by Wang Ping and Lewis Warsh

R

k

DARK LIKE ME

Dream Variation

To fling my arms wide
In some place of the sun,
To whirl and to dance
Till the white day is done.
Then rest at cool evening
Beneath a tall tree
While night comes on gently,
Dark like me--
That is my dream!

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance! Whirl! Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.
Rest at pale evening . . .
A tall, slim tree . . .
Night coming tenderly
Black like me.

 Langston Hughes

NEVER TRY TO TRICK ME WITH A KISS

Never try to trick me with a kiss
SYLVIA PLATH

Never try to trick me with a kiss

Pretending that the birds are here to stay;

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

A stone can masquerade where no heart is

And virgins rise where lustful Venus lay:

Never try to trick me with a kiss.

Our noble doctor claims the pain is his,

While stricken patients let him have his say;

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Each virile bachelor dreads paralysis,

The old maid in the gable cries all day:

Never try to trick me with a kiss.

The suave eternal serpents promise bliss

To mortal children longing to be gay;

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;

The singing birds pack up and fly away;

So never try to trick me with a kiss:

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this.

WHEN YOU LOOK AT HIM YOU SEE DARK NIGTH

CATS...MEOW 100 POSTS

Black Horse with White Chest

Black hindquarters, white chest:
he flies on the wings of the wind.

When you look at him you see dark night
opening, giving way to dawn.

Sons of Shem and Ham live harmoniously
in him, and take no care for the words
of would-be troublemakers.

Men’s eyes light up when they see
reflected in his beauty

the clear strong black and white
of the eyes of beautiful women.

--Ibn Sa‘id al-Maghribi
1214-1274 Central Andalusia

ME PEACOCK

WHAT'S riches to him

That has made a great peacock

With the pride of his eye?

The wind-beaten,stone -grey,

And desolate

Three RockWould nourish his whim.

Live he or die

Amid wet rocks and heather,

His ghost will be gay

Adding feather to feather

For the pride of his eye.

WHAT'S riches to him

That has made a great peacock

With the pride of his eye?

The wind-beaten, stone-grey,

And desolate

Three RockWould nourish his whim.

Live he or die

Amid wet rocks and heather,

His ghost will be gay

Adding feather to feather

For the pride of his eye.

William Butler Yeats

RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT

marie-babey-cat-in-the-stairs


Rhapsody on a Windy Night
by T. S. Eliot

Twelve o'clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.

Half-past one,
The street lamp sputtered,
The street lamp muttered,
The street lamp said, "Regard that woman
Who hesitates towards you in the light of the door
Which opens on her like a grin.
You see the border of her dress
Is torn and stained with sand,
And you see the corner of her eye
Twists like a crooked pin."

The memory throws up high and dry
A crowd of twisted things;
A twisted branch upon the beach
Eaten smooth, and polished
As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the strength has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.

Half-past two,
The street lamp said,
"Remark the cat which flattens itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter."
So the hand of a child, automatic,
Slipped out and pocketed a toy that was running along the quay.
I could see nothing behind that child's eye.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.

Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp muttered in the dark.

The lamp hummed:
"Regard the moon,
La lune ne garde aucune rancune,
She winks a feeble eye,
She smiles into corners.
She smoothes the hair of the grass.
The moon has lost her memory.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone
With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain."
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets,
And female smells in shuttered rooms,
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars."

The lamp said,
"Four o'clock,
Here is the number on the door.
Memory!
You have the key,
The little lamp spreads a ring on the stair,
Mount.
The bed is open; the tooth-brush hangs on the wall,
Put your shoes at the door, sleep, prepare for life."

The last twist of the knife.

BORIS CALENDAR 2010

We are pleased to let you know that your artwork/photography has been accepted into the 2010 ArtWanted.com calendar! The date you will be featured on is: 11/18/2010

THE WORLD HARMONY RUN

My birthday song:


I plan to soar,
I plan to roar.
The bird in me
Will teach me how to soar.
The lion in me
Will teach me how to roar.
I plan to love,
Below, above.
The lover in me will teach me
How to love
Within,
Without,
Below, above.




Sri Chinmoy was born in India and came to the West in 1964. Sri Chinmoy lived in New York, until his Mahasamadhi in 2007.

Sri Chinmoy is a spiritual teacher who dedicated his life in the service of humanity. he endeavoured to inspire and serve mankind with his soulful offerings - his prayers and meditations, literary, musical and artistic works.

ROB SEWARD

my current personism loves pictures like these

UmweltIII (HOME), 2007

Rob Seward's interests include the sublime,communication, and internal psychological exploration. He has lectured at the Centre Pompidou, Paris; the Chelsea Art Museum; and Location One, both in New York City. His work is widely exhibited in the US and Europe. He holds a master's from the Interactive Telecommunications Program (ITP) at New York University's .

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY

DON'T GO FAR OFF, NOT EVEN FOR A DAY

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --

because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pablo Neruda was born in Parral, Chile. He studied in Santiago in the twenties. From 1927 to 1945 he was the Chilean consul in Rangoon, in Java, and then in Barcelona. He joined the Communist Party after the Second World War. Between 1970 and 1973 he served in Allende’s Chilean Government as ambassador to Paris. He died shortly after the coup that ended the Allende Government.

TO THE TUNE OF LIKE A DREAM

Hai Tian ,1951,Dongan county, Hunan province.

Member of Chinese Artists Association, deputy of the Traditional Chinese Painting Committee of Hunan Painter Association, vice chairman of the Hunan Gongbi Painting Association, Hunan branch and chairman of the Xiaoxiang Gongbi Painting Art Research Institute.
. The whole realm of artistic world lies open for him to explore. He often rebuilds his unique artistic "microcosms" from the universe through a demonstration of aesthetic manifold structure, which integrates national style with the modern sense, the concrete with the abstract, the void with the real and the philosophic idea with wild flavor. His works are unique and graceful, creating a deep and implicit world imbued with poetic and philosophic conceptions. Critics say that his works have a peculiar style of natural grace and make his master of a school. They also say that his paintings reveal poetic beauty and intelligence.
("A Collection of Works by One Hundred Outstanding Chinese Painters", "A Collection of Works by the Prize-winners in the Eighth National Paintings Exhibition", "A Collection of Ink-and-wash by the Greatest Chinese Painters in the World", and the "Gems of 20th Century Chinese Paintings". His artistic achievements were taken down in many large dictionaries in china and other countries such as "Dictionary of the World's Modern Artists". In 1997, he was elected as "One of the Hundred Chinese Most Outstanding Painters" by the Chinese Writers and Artists Association)

............................................................................................................................................................

Li Qingzhao : 李清照; : 李清照, Wade-Giles; Li Ch'ing-chao,pseudonym Yi'an Jushi (易安居士 “Yi'an HOUSEHOLDER (1084–c. 1151) was a Chinese writer andpoet of the Song Dynasty, regarded by many as the premier woman poet in the Chinese language citation needed.

To the Tune of Like a Dream

Last night a sprinkling of rain,
a violent wind.
After a deep sleep, still not recovered
from the lingering effect of wine,
I inquired of the one rolling up the screen;
But the answer came: "The cherry-apple blossoms
are still the same."
"Oh, don't you know, don't you know?
The red must be getting thin,
while the green is becoming plump."