Artist

Related poetry:

1. The Artist The Artist and his Luckless Wife They lead a horrid haunted life, Surrounded by the things he’s made That are not wanted by the trade. The world is very fair to see; The Artist will not let it be; He fiddles with the works of God, And makes them look uncommon odd. The Artist is […]...
2. The Artist's Duty So it is the duty of the artist to discourage all traces of shame To extend all boundaries To fog them in right over the plate To kill only what is ridiculous To establish problem To ignore solutions To listen to no one To omit nothing To contradict everything To generate the free brain To […]...
3. The Spider as an Artist The Spider as an Artist Has never been employed Though his surpassing Merit Is freely certified By every Broom and Bridget Throughout a Christian Land Neglected Son of Genius I take thee by the Hand...
4. Artist's Life Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote, Mad with melody, rhythm rife From the very first to the final note, Give me his “Artist’s Life!” It stirs my blood to my finger ends, Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest, And all that is sweetest and saddest blends Together within my breast. It […]...
5. The Artist All day with brow of anxious thought The dictionary through, Amid a million words he sought The sole one that would do. He wandered on from pub to pub Yet never ceased to seek With burning brain and pencil stub The Word Unique. Said he: ‘I’ll nail it down or die. Oh Heaven help me, […]...
6. To A Young Artist It is good for strength not to be merciful To its own weakness, good for the deep urn to run over, good to explore The peaks and the deeps, who can endure it, Good to be hurt, who can be healed afterward: but you that have whetted consciousness Too bitter an edge, too keenly daring, […]...
7. In An Artist's Studio One face looks out from all his canvasses, One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans; We found her hidden just behind those screens, That mirror gave back all her loveliness. A queenin opal or in ruby dress, A nameless girl in freshest summer greens, A saint, an angel; every canvass means The same one […]...
8. Portrait of the Artist as a Prematurely Old Man It is common knowledge to every schoolboy and even every Bachelor of Arts, That all sin is divided into two parts. One kind of sin is called a sin of commission, and that is very important, And it is what you are doing when you are doing something you ortant, And the other kind of […]...
9. Dancer THE LADY in red, she in the chile con carne red, Brilliant as the shine of a pepper crimson in the summer sun, She behind a false-face, the much sought-after dancer, the most sought-after dancer of all in this masquerade, The lady in red sox and red hat, ankles of willow, crimson arrow amidst the […]...
10. Congratulations Congratulations, you’ve succeeded, You’ve acknowledged 60% of you at least Are the incredibly dense and mindless people Needed to make sense of incomprehensible Avoidance strategies on recycling water. You may have missed the point, the vote Was not to see which political policy would Prevail; tragically it was a statement to our Nation On re-use […]...
11. The Artist as an Old Man If you ask him he will talk for hours How at fourteen he hammered signs, fingers Raw with cold, and later painted bowers In ladies’ boudoirs; how he played checkers For two weeks in jail, and lived on dark bread; How he fled the border to a country Which disappeared wars ago; unfriended Crossed a […]...
12. Charity The Princess was of ancient line, Of royal race was she; Like cameo her face was fine, With sad serentiy: Yet bent she toiled with dimming eye, Her rice and milk to buy. With lacework that for pity plead, So out of date it seemed, She sought to make her daily bread, As of her […]...
13. THE COLOSSUS (Goya, an old man in exile, looks at his self-portrait) A bull’s neck, still much needed, Deserving exile or the guillotine, ‘Because you are an artist we forgave you’, Thus his royal highness gave thanks, My fingers itching for brush and canvas, Floury cheeks and rouge, legs a donkey would be ashamed of, A wife […]...
14. Portrait of the Artist Oh, lead me to a quiet cell Where never footfall rankles, And bar the window passing well, And gyve my wrists and ankles. Oh, wrap my eyes with linen fair, With hempen cord go bind me, And, of your mercy, leave me there, Nor tell them where to find me. Oh, lock the portal as […]...
15. Penniwit, the Artist I lost my patronage in Spoon River From trying to put my mind in the camera To catch the soul of the person. The very best picture I ever took Was of Judge Somers, attorney at law. He sat upright and had me pause Till he got his cross-eye straight. Then when he was ready […]...
16. Virginity My mother she had children five and four are dead and gone; While I, least worthy to survive, persist in living on. She looks at me, I must confess, sometimes with spite and bitterness. My mother is three-score and ten, while I am forty-three, You don’t know how it hurts me when we go somewhere […]...
17. 161. Epigram Addressed to an Artist DEAR -, I’ll gie ye some advice, You’ll tak it no uncivil: You shouldna paint at angels mair, But try and paint the devil. To paint an Angel’s kittle wark, Wi’ Nick, there’s little danger: You’ll easy draw a lang-kent face, But no sae weel a stranger.-R. B....
18. We to Sigh Instead of Sing “Rain and Rain! and rain and rain!” Yesterday we muttered Grimly as the grim refrain That the thunders uttered: All the heavens under cloud All the sunshine sleeping; All the grasses limply bowed With their weight of weeping. Sigh and sigh! and sigh and sigh! Never end of sighing; Rain and rain for our reply […]...
19. WHEN THE FOX DIES, HIS SKIN COUNTS.* (* The name of a game, known in English as “Jack’s Alight.”) WE young people in the shade Sat one sultry day; Cupid came, and “Dies the Fox” With us sought to play. Each one of my friends then sat By his mistress dear; Cupid, blowing out the torch, Said: “The taper’s here!” Then we […]...
20. Drink To Her Drink to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave to song What gold could never buy. Oh! woman’s heart was made For minstrel hands alone; By other fingers play’d, It yields not half the tone. Then here’s to her who long Hath waked the poet’s sigh, The girl who gave […]...
21. The Hat In city shop a hat I saw That to my fancy seemed to strike, I gave my wage to buy the straw, And make myself a one the like. I wore it to the village fair; Oh proud I was, though poor was I. The maids looked at me with a stare, The lads looked […]...
22. Haunting the quark (I) If you can’t scientifically explain it Dawkins says it has no value – some hope Inside the mechanical framework of a guess (as far as any fact can truly grope) Doubts roam – mere looking can’t attain it Twentieth-century science perceived that mess The more you probed the inner – more the scope For […]...
23. Yellow One pearly day of early May I strolled upon the sand, And saw, say half-a-mile away A man with gun in hand; A dog was cowering to his will, As slow he sought to creep Upon a dozen ducks so still They seemed to be asleep, When like a streak the dog dashed out, The […]...
24. Raising The Flag Behold! the Spanish flag they’re raising Before the Palace courtyard gate; To watch its progress bold and blazing Two hundred patient people wait. Though bandsmen play the anthem bravely The silken emblem seems to lag; Two hundred people watch it gravely – But only two salute the flag. Fine-clad and arrogant of manner The twain […]...
25. Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...
26. The Gift “He gave her class. She gave him sex.” Katharine Hepburn on Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers He gave her money. She gave him head. He gave her tips on “aggressive growth” mutual funds. She gave him a red rose and a little statue of eros. He gave her Genesis 2 (21-23). She gave him Genesis […]...
27. Poor Peter Blind Peter Piper used to play All up and down the city; I’d often meet him on my way, And throw a coin for pity. But all amid his sparkling tones His ear was quick as any To catch upon the cobble-stones The jingle of my penny. And as upon a day that shone He […]...
28. His Mind like Fabrics of the East His Mind like Fabrics of the East Displayed to the despair Of everyone but here and there An humble Purchaser For though his price was not of Gold More arduous there is That one should comprehend the worth Was all the price there was...
29. The Quest I sought Him on the purple seas, I sought Him on the peaks aflame; Amid the gloom of giant trees And canyons lone I called His name; The wasted ways of earth I trod: In vain! In vain! I found not God. I sought Him in the hives of men, The cities grand, the hamlets […]...
30. The Nude Swim On the southwest side of Capri We found a little unknown grotto Where no people were and we Entered it completely And let our bodies lose all Their loneliness. All the fish in us Had escaped for a minute. The real fish did not mind. We did not disturb their personal life. We calmly trailed […]...
31. Retired Shopman He had the grocer’s counter-stoop, That little man so grey and neat; His moustache had a doleful droop, He hailed me in the slushy street. “I’ve sold my shop,” he said to me, Cupping his hand behind his ear. “My deafness got so bad, you see, Folks had to shout to make me hear.” He […]...
32. Apologetic Postscript Of A Year Later IF you see this song, my dear, And last year’s toast, I’m confoundedly in fear You’ll be serious and severe About the boast. Blame not that I sought such aid To cure regret. I was then so lowly laid I used all the Gasconnade That I could get. Being snubbed is somewhat smart, Believe, my […]...
33. The Times Table More than halfway up the pass Was a spring with a broken drinking glass, And whether the farmer drank or not His mare was sure to observe the spot By cramping the wheel on a water-bar, Turning her forehead with a star, And straining her ribs for a monster sigh; To which the farmer would […]...
34. Divine Detachment One day the Great Designer sought His Clerk of Birth and Death. Said he: “Two souls are in my thought, To whom I gave life-breath. I deemed my work was fitly done, But yester-eve I saw That in the finished brain of one There was a tiny flaw. “It worried me, and I would know, […]...
35. Mad Maria Mad Maria in the Square Sits upon a wicker chair. When the keeper asks the price Mad Maria counts her lice. No pesito can she pay, So he shrugs and goes away; Hopes she’ll pay him with her prayers, Shabby keeper of the chairs. Mad Maria counts her lice, Cracks them once and cracks them […]...
36. Florrie Because I was a wonton wild And welcomed many a lover, Who is the father of my child I wish I could discover. For though I know it is not right In tender arms to tarry, A barmaid has to be polite To Tom and Dick and Harry. My truest love was Poacher Jim: I […]...
37. The Creation I The God separated a spirit from Himself and fashioned it into Beauty. He showered upon her all the blessings of gracefulness and kindness. He gave her the cup of happiness and said, “Drink not from this cup unless you forget the past and the future, for happiness is naught but the moment.” And He also […]...
38. Sappho I sigh at day-dawn, and I sigh When the dull day is passing by. I sigh at evening, and again I sigh when night brings sleep to men. Oh! it were far better to die Than thus forever mourn and sigh, And in death’s dreamless sleep to be Unconscious that none weep for me; Eased […]...
39. Sing, Sweet Harp Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me Some song of ancient days, Whose sounds, in this sad memory, Long-buried dreams shall raise; Some lay that tells of vanish’d fame, Whose light once round us shone, Of noble pride, now turn’d to shame, And hopes for ever gone. Sing, sad Harp, thus sing to me; Alike […]...
40. The Difference When we were together, heart of my heart, on that unforgotten quest, With your tender arm about me thrown and your head upon my breast, There came a grief that was bitter and deep and straitly dwell with me, And I shunned it not, so sweet it was to suffer and be with thee. And […]...