Art and Poetry:

[Granby]

Greetings All,
I happen to believe that art and poetry are twin sisters. Anyway, I thought I would throw this idea out there for potential entertainment value. Someone posts a piece of poetry, somebody else posts a piece of art that particular poetry snippet brings to their mind. I'll start:

LAUS VENERIS by Asclepiades
Sweet is snow in summer for the thirsty to drink, and sweet for
sailors after winter to see the garland of spring; but most sweet when
one cloak shelters two lovers, and the tale of love is told by both.

(This poem reminds me vividly of a certain painting: but I don't know what it it is; one of those tip of the tongue things)

[smiller]

Originally Posted by Granby

Greetings All,
I happen to believe that art and poetry are twin sisters. Anyway, I thought I would throw this idea out there for potential entertainment value. Someone posts a piece of poetry, somebody else posts a piece of art that particular poetry snippet brings to their mind. I'll start:

LAUS VENERIS by Asclepiades
Sweet is snow in summer for the thirsty to drink, and sweet for
sailors after winter to see the garland of spring; but most sweet when
one cloak shelters two lovers, and the tale of love is told by both.

(This poem reminds me vividly of a certain painting: but I don't know what it it is; one of those tip of the tongue things)

Cupids rapture of Psyche,

http://images.google.com.pr/images?q..._de_Psyche.jpg

Lili

[smiller]

Here it is:


Lili

[Granby]

Hi Lili - nice to meet you.

Good job and beautiful painting. The above poem reminded of this painting for some reason: (Snow - by Edward Robert Hughes)

http://www.illusionsgallery.com/Hear...w-Hughes-.html

Ok - I'll throw out one more to get the ball rolling - then this thread sinks or swims on its own. This one is a bit more tricky I think..

snippet from "Tale of the Wandering Aengus" by Yeats

...
and when white moths were on the wing
and moth like stars were flickering out.

I hooked a berry on the string
and caught a little silver trout

When I had laid it on the ground
and bent down to fan the flame

I heard something rustling on the ground,
I heard someone call my name

I turned and saw a glittering girl
with apple blossoms in her hair

She called my name again
and dissappeared into the brightening air...

(recalled from memory - a word or two might be off)

[~JON]

Perhaps it was the reference to the trout or the image of something "glittering" but the first thought I had was that of the reflections in water. WC's own MartyC (Marine Forum) painted this beautiful work:




There are so many good pieces of poetry, aren't there. I will add
this one, in case someone else wishes to "play"

Ode on Solitude
Alexander Pope
I.
How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.

II.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

III.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

IV.
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

V.
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

[Chey]

For Pope, it almost had to be Constable...




WH Auden, This Lunar Beauty

This lunar beauty
has no history,
is complete and early;
if beauty later
bear any feature
it had a love
and is another.

This like a dream
keeps other time,
and daytime is
the loss of this;
for time is inches
and the heart's changes
where ghost has haunted,
lost and wanted.

but this was never
a ghost's endeavour
nor, finished this,
was ghost at ease;
and till it pass
love shall not near
the sweetness here
nor sorrow take
his endless look.

[bushma'am]

Hi All
If you are interested in Painting/Poetry projects, I invite you to visit my web stite. In the Specials with a History Gallery you will find Paintings/Poems entries. The poems are writen out with the enlarged images.
Two are with WetCanvas member guests:
The Bridge Home - painted from the poem "The House Next Door" written
by author Bob Stagemyer - WC member
Cafe Guerbois


and
Painting - "Ahead of the storm...Pony Express"
Artist: Dianna Ponting - WC member - pastel forum
and the poem title "Taking the Mail" which is the shout of the rider as
the mail pouch was exchanged.

All entries in the History gallery have accompanying poems except the
100 year old Catalpa Tree.
Enjoy
Faye


Here is the web address; http://www.sitekreator.com/facerartstudio

[bushma'am]

If you would like more poetry by WC members go to:
Page 4 of the Cafe Guerbois forum for "Short Poems by Artists"
Faye

[smiller]

Originally Posted by Nascent

How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breathes his native air,
In his own grounds.

II.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

III.
Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

IV.
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.

V.
Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Lili

[AcrylicsMichelle]

Hello All... .recently I have fallen in love with painting from poetry.
My first experience was with painting from a poem by Robert Stagemyer. The House Next Door. My painting is titled " Is That You Molly " ?

Secondly, my painting " Roots " is from reading an address by John B Lee to the Tower Poets Society, coupled with one of his poems. The Half Way Tree.

Third painting ( American Beech ) is from a poem titiled 1813 by Kemeny Babineau.

I have one more too - but that will have to wait into November, as it is part of a challenge, and out for judging, so am keeping that one a secret until I hear further. That poem is Dreams by The Sea by Ruth Avery.

I will post each painting and poem in differant threads for your viewing.
Enjoy !
OH what fun this is !

Comments and Critiques Always welcome !

[AcrylicsMichelle]

Painting Is That You Molly

Poem by Robert Stagemyer. ( a WC friend ! )

THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR

The gate was old and crooked, half open with vines wrapped and wound,
The rocky path was uneven and packed with leaves that make a crunchy sound,
The old frame house was weathered, without paint and shutters lay on the ground,
The porch was a home for cats of many colors and sizes that skittered around.

I knocked on the windowless door and after a while there was a faint noise from inside,
"Who is it? Is that you Molly?" and the door was opened only a few inches wide,
"Hello," I said. "We just moved next door" and handed her the pie with the ribbon of red.
She was old and unkempt, and glanced down at the sight of a stranger, she sighed,
"I thought it was my daughter, Molly, she's coming home today," glowing with pride.

She took the box in her frail hands, "Thank-you." she said as her eyes filled with tears,
She gently pushed the door closed, and I stood by the gate as the mail man appears.
I told him the story and hope I had said nothing wrong to cause her fears.
He put hand on my shoulder and said, "It's okay, her daughter has been missing for forty years".

The old woman died that year, and we never forget the very date,
For on that same day every single year, a red rose is placed by the old wooden gate.

[AcrylicsMichelle]

Title of painting Roots.

Roots


This painting grew from a vision after reading
“Roots” an address by John B Lee for the occasion of Tower Poetry Society’s 50th Anniversary.

Quote from Lee’s address

“If and when we think of our roots, we humans have in mind, (at least those of us living here in southwestern Ontario), a sort of anchoring and much like the roots of a tree, our human roots might anchor us in place and give us a sense of belonging and leave us with the hope that we will not simply 'blow away' like words upon the wind …

If as we say, we are rooted, then we are rooted in memory. Rooted in imagination. Rooted in story. And we need to know our place in the world and have the language to express that sense of belonging. Something in me remains the tree of my childhood, the tree no longer there …….”

Part of the inspiration for this painting was also a poem recited and written by Lee.
The Half Way Tree.

[AcrylicsMichelle]

Painting Title American Beech
Poem by Kemeny Babineau

( 1813 )

The British and Americans point long guns in The
Long Woods, perpendicular to the world, to the
trees all about, American Beech

• columnar
• trunks and limbs
• etching out
• at arms length

• a graphite sketch
• men in battle among trees, musket
• ball furrows in bark, seeding
• the heart’s darkness
• makes forays

• lead scribbles
• what was visible

• ‘ don’t
• draw their fire, ‘

• voices
• not getting far, an arm
• a leg and bits
• of head.

• everything in sections
• nothing whole
• some things over
• done, piece by
• piece falling
• in, drawn
• down



by Kemeny Babineau

[AcrylicsMichelle]

Oooooo
almost forgot... I have one of my own

Poem and Painting by me ( Michelle Jefferies )

Pillar of Strength

From my backyard, an old weathered fence post.
It stands proud in the cool crisp winter overlooking the fields and guarding the yard.
A weather beaten tower, adept to life; split and cracked, like well earned wrinkles.
Wrapped with vines, like the trials of life.
Holding firm to fence boards, as if they were his loved ones.
A monument to our fathers, our mainstays.
Standing strong with wisdom and pride, the Pillar of Strength.

-Michelle Jefferies (Snively)

[smiller]

Hi AcrylicsMichelle

WOW!!! That was a treat! very lovely. Your poems match up perfectly with the paintings and/or vice versa.

Made my day
Thanks

Lili