Visual Poetry's topics - tribe.net

the invisible difference

manicshamanic — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 00:57:53 GMT

endless

collections...

so much of our condition...

even those that fill the world of spirit.

refreshin to know that there are others that feels so.

a challenge in a big city to feel and connect to that core that lies within...

and still possible.

dwellin in the depth

in shadows... seein

the playin lights in

light and lime light

of affections and

attentions. moths...

do call their own

making undertaking.

human conditions...

vying attention...

affection... layin moths

take the undertaking.

thinkin the difference

in infinite reflections.

thinkin the difference

the invisible difference.

b...

~원일

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always accepting submissions

whyvandalism — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 15:55:52 GMT

always accepting submissions
why vandalism? is an online arts journal currently accepting submissions from visual artists and writers of poetry, fiction, and gonzo. We also publish original art/film reviews and essays.

www.whyvandalism.com/

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The Hopeless (revised)

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 15:31:54 GMT

The Hopeless

The hopeless romantic
ends up alone.
Isn't it a shame?
So much love to give.
Each day a guessing game.

The hopeless romantic left
out in the cold.
Lying alone in her self pity.
Where did it go wrong?
Lost in this filthy city.

The hopeless romantic is
just hopeless.
Living life as a dream.
Making more of nothing.
Always swimming upstream.

The hopeless romantic is
tired.
She needs more but is getting older.
With each day that passes by, she settles.
Her heart grows colder.

12/13/06 Xerina

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

And Now The Mermaid Has A Face

d_man — Sun, 11 Mar 2007 07:53:52 GMT

And Now The Mermaid Has A Face

I watched her
From the cliff
She sank beneath the waves
And swam to the horizon
Further from the shore
For six long years
I wondered will I drown
In the river of forgetfulness
Or climb to the bridge
That knows no time

And every night I pray
To see her return
Yet every night I lay
With the feces of seagulls
On a rock strewn bay

Then by chance I saw her
In the eather smiling
The third circle opened
As never before
Her eyes more defined
Her features more seasoned
Her tail more swift
Her head of shining gold!
And I enraptured
Changed in an instant
From shadow to sound
From loss to grace

If only I could reach
The foundation that holds
A bridge across time
I’d meet her there
And shed this skin
In exchange for understanding
Or one final embrace
Before we depart

And every night I pray
To see her return
Yet every night I lay
With the feces of seagulls
On a rock strewn bay

-DC

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divine child

Julia — Mon, 05 Feb 2007 19:57:39 GMT

divine child

I met christ last night

he was a classical violinist from spain

And Isaw a portrait god

but when i realized it was a mirror

i had to look away

he asked me if i knew

and his eyes were flashing violet

and he had fuck written on his forhead

in glow paint

i said "your eyes are beautiful"

and he said "you understand"

and i told him "life is beautiful"

he asked me how i made the air breathe

and i took his hands and i covered them with mine

then i brought them to his core

we are all divin"

and he ask me how we were worthy

we're not worthy we just are

then he introduced me to his brother

and together he and i

wove the spanning threads together

and molded the energy with eyes closed

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swimming

sukita — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 22:14:28 GMT

swim swim,
around and under a veil
trusting the breath,
coming up to inhale

delights of my heart
dance around as in dreams
I remember my part
keep watch of the cling

I find peace these days
behind the dark of my eyelids
quietly observing sensation
my heart still calls for bids

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what I know

inthepresenceofelectricity — Fri, 29 Sep 2006 00:58:06 GMT

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ram_Bahadur_Bamjan
What I know...

I know that time

is a figment

of our collective imagination

and we need to look to the aboriginal watchband

for further updates and developments...

I know certain people
come to shake off the carcass of a belief
that two people
could be more powerful
than the solar orb
of an empowered human,
being.

I know that light
in the form of the sun
is the only thing that
we are digesting.

I know that small silent moments of solitude

creates foundations of fire

that are unseen

in the breaking open of relationship's unsealed mouth.

I know that climbing trees at 12 in the morning

is the surest way to know

you are alive and breathing with the earths

laddered

lungs.

I know

that cradling a tree on a busy intersection at noon

with three of your friends

is the greatest way to remind the masses

of busy bodies

that they are alive

and a part

of a greater

humanity.

I know

that outside

is better than inside,

and bikes

are greater than cars,

and if anyone

wants to argue the physics behind all that,

well they are sure to get a textbook

delivered to their devil advocate doorstep,

on human ingenuity

and propper

breathing techniques.

I know

that the only way

to become a pillar of strength

in the face of disaster

is to extend your heart

three

feet

past

your comfortability zone
and shake hands
with the lamped confusion
that arises there
ike a genie
granting wishes. .

I know that love

is a 4 letter word by its nature,

and unbalance is 9

and balance is 7

and seven is center

and that is whole

onto itself.

I know that children

are the future, we are the present

and some combination of the child and the elder

is the ideal pigmetation

to paint a self portraiture of strength

and purposesful groves

of artistic revolution.

I know I miss you,
on cold nights,
and warm ones,
when our souls were wrapped in blankets of becoming entangled
and looking in your eyes was the only sky
I needed to thread
myself into.

I know stars

are jealous

of the human beings t

hat become

galaxy enveloped,

solar hearted,

earth rooted

windmills.

I know sneakers are a fashion statement,

and statements are billboards,

and signs can be boring

when they scream the obvious

for an extended period of commercial breakage.

I know that none of us can make it alone,

not on any endurance course of life,

maybe a sprinting chance,

but not for long strides of society,

not in the face of all this accelerated reflection and coal smoke trapeze hamstring shaking.

I know that music soothes the savage beast inside the wanting stomach knot,

that melody is the key to all that is right with the world,

and harmony is the stasis of a foot slipping in and out of the dancing

dissonance of our created hereafter shimmy.

I know that we can never latch on to the "other"

for by tying strings of a future emenatation

all that we are left with

is a tangled web

of mist

and foggy perception's

hollow glass case...

I treat my body like a temple on Sundays

but the rest of the week it's

a squatter's paradise.

I know that the only true way towards salvation

is a belief

so firm and true

that no element known

or unknown in the annals

of magic or science

can really capture the surety of its intense movement and purpose.

I know that words can only say so much,

action is greater than mountains of knowledgeable utterance,

and solidified patterns of order and function

will break open the locks of all that holds you back,

no doorway to enter,

no journey ever taken or even needed...

I know that the garden never left.

I know I have already arrived

and there was never a destination

besides my own listening

hearth.

I know most of these words will fall on deaf ears,

since none of us here know anything,

and

that the only way to have access to the subway trains of the holographic way stations

is a labotomy of all the mental plush toys

that create the identity

of a temper tantrum

also known as the frozen catharsis of the ego...

I know that every grain of matter is a living library that speaks unto itself for itself, and represents itself,

and the greatest way to genius

is to listen in

to the narcissism.

I know that scarves,
ties and fashion faux-pa's,
are a way of hiding the aching throat that longs to sing Fibonacci into blades of grass and I, to you.

I know that naked streaming glow is the only heaven I need.

I know that angels hide themselves in the masks of laughter, I know that sorrow is the harpstrings of the brave chorus.

I know the rushing will of the labored hand,

I know the quickness of the feathered heart,

I know the juggling wrists of scales

symetrical

dance

of stillness

in the arm

reach.

I know the silence of the red clay
after the potters wheel
has stopped its incessant hum,
and whats left
is a form that was molded
from the chaos of a mishapen ball.

I take comfort in my lack of knowlege.

It teaches me
the expansive patience
of a grandmothered galaxy being
up in her rocking chair
made of stars and gas
and debris of matter,
constantly humming to herself
and crocheting the cosmos
out of her body...
a forever
ripple
of
yarns.

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

Ordinary Life in Three Acts

Daniel — Fri, 15 Sep 2006 09:28:25 GMT

If I ever marry
I will fall in love
with her voice.
She can sing softly
when I am far away
to ease my heart
with sounds and tones
coos and whispers
lullabies in the night
arias when she comes
hums to silent chansons
whistles while she waters the plants.

In Ordinary Life in Three Acts (www.ordinarylifeinthreeacts.com), Daniel Roth, the "anti-poetry poet", proves that truth can be found in the most reductive of poetic structure. Fluffy and elaborate verse is unnecessary when it comes to expressing the beauty and rawness of life. When asked "Why reductive?" he said that, "People seem to range between dislike and indifference when it comes to poetry. It often obscures. Readers tend to feel stupid because so many poems appear to make no sense. I have no need to confuse anyone."

This collection of poems reflects the arc of Daniel's life. From fish fries in Mississippi, juke joints in South Central L.A., barefoot dances under the Sahara Desert sky, to whirling on the beaches of Morocco to the trance of Gnawa music, these poems reflect a joy, a curiosity and love of what is best, most authentic in people and cultures all over the planet. The poems are about love, loss, curiosity, a life embraced in all its turmoil, richness and heartbreak.

Please visit the Ordinary Life in Three Acts website where you can read more of Daniel's poetry, read reviews, order the book, or just watch one of his many dances in the desert on film. If you resonate with what you see, please send this on to your email groups because this is an attempt to break past the old paradigm of publishing houses. This book is only being promoted through the internet to show that information, whether it is art, poetry, or news, can be spread no matter what. With the internet, we now have the freedom to share anything we want with the world.

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Cancer of my heart

Stormy_soul68 — Thu, 31 Aug 2006 04:22:45 GMT

Gripping me close
you send my scales
flying with rainbows
piercing my liquid heart
breaking the surface
tension..mounting..
waiting for the other
sole to drop...
as you grow through old scar tissue
leaving me breathless
waiting for your briny touch once more

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Yellow Ancestral Son

Renee — Wed, 04 Jan 2006 23:49:46 GMT

Yellow Ancestral Son
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

dawn draping comfort
so so soft
so soft soft
lips
senses swimming swirling
soaring
entwining tresses of flesh
gentle gliding
sliding succulence

hummingbird fingertips feathering
skinslopes
exploring smallest senses
long lostness
tingling in blues and yellows
soft white indigos

drawn diving deeply
revelation inhalations
reavealing falling veils
sharing oxygen

closest vastness

merging astral travellers
seeking sustenance
nourishing naturally
cordless bonding
sacred communion

holy skin
holy seed
holy souls

sharing heartspirit
releasing attachments
honing visions
of magikal manifestation.

~~~~
Renee Hope

divine gratitude to J.J. for inspiration...

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

The Floresta

'The Holy See' — Sat, 01 Jul 2006 20:13:59 GMT

I awake to the song, of the sabia
a bird whose song
is a continues melodic, melody.
The sun is bright,
shining through, the shuttered windows
glassless,
so that... the perfumed air of the earth,
meets no resistance.

I rise from bed...
a bed... almost to small to hold me.
Walking to the window,
I open the hand honed, blue shutters,
and the jungle... the floresta,
all that green, that verge,
is framed before me... in blue,
stark contrast to the white washed walls.

A hummingbird, a beijaflor ...kisses a flower
while a skinny dog... cachorro stretches,
then chases after a child...
a young girl...
her curly black hair,
bleached blond, by the jungles sun.
Her Mother.. Toothless shouts after her.
“ Anda menina, tem muito pra fazer!”
“ Hurry little one... there is much to do!”
No school for this one

Baby shows himself,
barefoot, knees dirty, diapered,
his T-shirt rising above the belly,
fist rubbing his eye.
To shy to talk...!

Chickens scratch the ground
and the green rooster galo struts.
The cachorro has long forgotten the children
and now chases a porcoespinho... a porcupine,
across the ridge... back into the jungle.
tonight... we will have to bind the dog,
tightly to a tree,
and with a pair of pliers,
remove the quills from his snout.

The jungle...
The floresta, it’s silver palm fronds
turned toward the sun,
reflecting like giant mirrors.
Butterflies... borboleta, dart across
Iemanja blue skies
like schools of flying fish.
While clouds.... samba,
as white as skirts
of... condomble cotton.

Insects buss, mosquitoes... purple banana blossoms,
and sparrows land on Taioba,
with leaves the size of elephant’s ears.
A spring trickles down the rocks,
forming a pool,
next to the bamboo...
there the old frog sapo croaks.

Outside... on the porch,
a small table has been prepared.
Papaya, pao and quejio, have been laid,
served with cafe, dark, sweet and sticky,
drunk from a small glass... called a xicara.
On my bare chest...
I ware the beads, of the Sete Santos,
having completed... all seven banos,
felio de Xango!

Far down... in the valley
on the dusty dirt road,
and old man is walking.
Chepeu on head.. shirt unbuttoned,
carrying over his shoulder... a hoe.
How far... I have removed myself,
living in a house ... built on stilts
in the mountains... of Vitoria...
na floresta, verde... do Brasil!

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

Scorpio

'The Holy See' — Sat, 24 Jun 2006 17:56:22 GMT

Arms alonge,
Scorpio arabesques
across the sky,
Prima ballerina
of the zodiac,
her celestial beauty,
accentuated by
her topaz navel jewel,
Antares!

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

Cleveland Dreams.....and visual poetry ; )

confetta — Mon, 22 May 2006 00:06:19 GMT

Cleveland Dreams is a new tribe that
includes art, history, stories and writings
of the Cleveland Underground Poetry scene
of the late 60's aka the mimeograph poets.

tribes.tribe.net/clevelanddreams

Cleveland Dreams is a Tribute to
the Cleveland Poets Including;

• d.a. Levy
• Russell Atkins
• Kent Taylor
• Russell Salamon
• Tom Kryss
• Jau Billera
• RJS
• Geoffrey Cook

"in the days unborn
you will find my brothers
ARMED with words you havent
even dreamed of.
Cleveland
you will move
or be plowed over—
eaten by vultures
like a corpse
digested
& slowly
change … "

—d.a. levy, from "letter to cleveland" less

tribes.tribe.net/clevelanddreams

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A new tribe for those

Blanket — Wed, 19 Apr 2006 22:15:49 GMT

that want honest construvtive critiqies on thier poetry and are willing to do the same
http://tribes.tribe.net/poeticconfines

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Bound And Tied

Blanket — Wed, 19 Apr 2006 00:46:26 GMT

Bound, And Tied
Bound by unseen circumstance, and tied intricately to chance
Four white walls close in, becoming my private prison cell
Nothing is written in stone, yet the alone cuts to the bone
I have now found the difference between heaven, and hell
Heaven is where the heart resides, and hell is the heart that hides

Bound by you always on my mind, and tied to a past I left behind
A room in the national forest becomes my favorite playground
Hopes of tomorrow forever rise, and fall as time slows to a crawl
I have now found the difference between lost, and found
Lost is having to live without you, and found is being with you

Bound by frustration unjust, and tied to unadorned lust
Eyes fixated with the picture that looks within my soul
Images of life’s incredible delight flash clear, and bright
I have now found the difference between prison, and parole
Prison is distance times two, and parole is to my heart staying true

Bound by an impending death, and tied willingly to love’s breath
Mind consumed with fantasies, and dreams of a distant night
At times the loneliness seems to die, and without you so would I
I have now found the difference between darkness, and light
Darkness was before connection, and light is having your affection

Bound by a calendar that doesn’t advance, and tied to circumstance
I have now found the difference between destined fate, and chance

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looking for attention

Fri, 07 Apr 2006 21:30:24 GMT

aloha...
i invite you all to visit my endeavors at http://selffullfillingprophecy.blogspot.com

300 poems and various artwork

the madman's been busy...

peace

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

Ignorant poet seeks publication start-up info/ideas

libramoon — Mon, 14 Mar 2005 21:00:44 GMT

Though a poet, I usually can't abide poetry. Yet I have been
finding such gems lately, here and there, on the net -- poems that
truly speak to me and tell their stories eloquently with grace and
magic. It makes me wish I did have a publication with which to
showcase and promote them.

And then I think, why don't I? So I'm starting to think that maybe
(just maybe) I will start to look into just what that might involve.

I would be ever so grateful for any suggestions/directions to help
me emerge from my ignorance of how this might be done.

Peace,
libramoon
libramoon42@mindspring.com
http://www.geocities.com/libramoon.geo/

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

new film on RILKE; February west coast tour

antero — Sat, 04 Feb 2006 07:55:18 GMT

"THE GREATER CIRCULATION"
(2005; 93 min., USA) a film by Antero Alli
a cinematic treatment of poet Rainer Maria Rilke's epic lament
"Requiem For a Friend" (as translated by Stephen Mitchell).

Feb. 9, Oakland
Feb. 12, Sacramento
Feb. 13, Nevada City
Feb. 19, Port Townsend WA
Feb. 22, Seattle
Feb. 24, Portland

VENUE and SCEDULE INFO at:
http://www.verticalpool.com/tgcshows.html

"...a deep, provocative and often disturbing drama which poses questions
of love, art, mortality and grief with the grace and majesty of Rilke’s work as
a vehicle for expressing the mix of emotions in losing a loved one...astonishing"
Phil Hall, filmthreat.com (5 stars out of five)

for entire review, visit:
http://www.filmthreat.com/index.php?section=reviews&Id=8150

Movie site: htp://www.verticalpool.com/tgc.html
Film clip: http://fractalvideo.com/HTML/TGCFV.html

SYNOPSIS
Tethered to the netherworld of ghosts, muses, and dreams, a poet transforms
his lament over the tragic death and loss of his friend and fellow artist into an
epic work of literature. In 1908 Rainer Maria Rilke wrote his "Requiem For a Friend"
over two dream-filled nights at the Hotel Biron in Paris. A hundred years later an
experimental theatre group in Berkeley California prepares to stage his “Requiem”
as an avante garde performance ritual. Time dissolves as impressions of the
contemporary era begin haunting Rilke's night dreams and consequently,
inspiring the creative processes of writing his tribute to artist Paula Becker, who
unexpectedly died eighteen days after birthing her first child. Part bio-pic and
narrative fiction, “The Greater Circulation” is a cinematic treatment of Rilke’s
powerful prose addressing the central drama of all women who feel torn
between sacrificing their lives to their Art or to Motherhood.

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

greetings / new photo's up

papaversomniferum — Fri, 13 Jan 2006 18:49:19 GMT

Hello to my artistic brethren...
I have been taking many pictures lately... the clouds
have been astounding... and I want to show my work
soon... gallery the photos somewhere in the east bay
(Oakland, ca.)

so I thought I would put some samples of my most
recent work up and see if it moves any of you poets, as
I woluld love to have some poetry along side my photographs

I just uploaded 3...

cheers
mm

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dream find

maryanne — Tue, 20 Dec 2005 02:14:55 GMT

I recently had a dream about this so it is not unusual that i found this tribe as it is so much on my mind.

In my dream i met a man at some convention we tqalk walk upstairs he hides his interest in art from me...i tell him i am an artisht..then he opens up more talks about a 'gramma...i cant remember what it was syntax of grammar,,,a gramma of visuals.....anyway we are then looking at drawings on a wall..framed drawings...he tells me he felt comfortable with some of the things i said and that he became a submarine and went inside....i get lost talking and talking about the sound of color about paul klee about kandinsky ..the books on the music of color and line that they wrote....how this makes even moresense with the impresionists...the color and sounds of light.....and then takig it to the next step that all is vibration.

Truth has its own vibration...it travels at the speed of light...language and its syntax is unimportant for it to be accepted and understood.

the food we eat tht our bodies crave is also vibration of aromas and ions.

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my poem inspired by Rumi - Love is a Tree

Renee — Mon, 19 Dec 2005 23:23:07 GMT

Rumi's poetry has inspired me to write this continually evolving poem.. now becoming a song... any comments would be appreciated as i continue to evolve this composition...

Love is a Tree...
~~~~~

love is a tree
and the lovers are its shade,
the springtime of lovers has come.
may this dustbowl heart
become a garden.

the proclaimation of heaven
rings down,
that the bird of the soul
may rise in flight,
rise in flight.

the oceans become full of pearls,
the salt marsh becomes sweet as honey
the stone turns to amethyst
the body becomes wholly soul,
holy soul.

i am Renee
reborn
rebirth.
i am a sky
where spirits live

look up today
stare into my deepening blue
listen to the breezes
whisper my secrets

dont be afraid of the dark times ahead
the dark times ahead
dont be afraid of the dark times ahead
oh everybody, everybody

when someone asks you
what there is left to do?
ah, what on earth can we do?
when someone asks you
what there is left to do?

light the candle
in their hand
in their hand
light the candle
in their hand

light the candles
in our hands, in our hands
light the candles
in each others hands
its all in our hands,
light the candles in our hands.

~~~~
R.Hope

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Dreamer's Dream

BlingAyez — Sun, 18 Sep 2005 14:39:58 GMT

I slept in the dark,
dreaming in the peaceful void.
I have a dream, for you, I heard
And my world was light
Noise and blurs
Antiseptic caresses.
I cried.
I heard the voice no more.

My wakened hours passed,
Dreaming with blinders.
Asail in self-imposed currents,
Stopping at gossamer walls:
Fear and doubt
Bandaid love.
I cried.
I listened for the voice.

I fought the sleep,
Desperate in the familiar.
"If you won't sleep" said the Dreamer,
"How can I dream for you?
Love and passion
Satisfaction
I cried.
I understood the voice.

I lived the dream,
Blinders broken,
Drifting the river,
Of the Dreamer's dream:
Beauty and energy
Blessed synergy.
I cried.
I thanked the voice.

I slept in the dark,
Dreaming in the peaceful void.
Again, "I have a dream for you" I heard.
And my world was light,
Vision and saiation,
Elation.
I laughed.
The Dreamer laughed too.
************
Life is a cycle we come from a dream and go back to it.
Still thinking about how to illustrate this visually.

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

hi

Wed, 27 Jul 2005 10:55:51 GMT

Italian photographer here..
I am too exploring photography and poetry at the same time (unfortunately my poetry is better in italian than in english language).. but anyway..
if you wnat to take a look to my works
just take a visit to my page and follow the links in my profile.

cheers :=)

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

June 24 deadline Oregon writer's Fellowship

libramoon — Thu, 09 Jun 2005 00:42:16 GMT

I ran into this fellowship announcement in my travels, but I'm not in Oregon:

www.pw.org/mag/0505/deadlines.htm

Literary Arts
Literary Fellowships
Fellowships ranging from $500 to $3,000 each are given annually to Oregon writers to initiate, develop, or complete literary projects in poetry, fiction, or creative nonfiction. In addition, a Women Writers Fellowship of $1,000 will be given annually to an Oregon woman writer of poetry, fiction, or creative nonfiction whose work explores experiences of race, class, physical disability, or sexual orientation. Submit 15 pages of poetry or 25 pages of fiction or creative nonfiction with an application by June 24. There is no entry fee. Send an SASE or visit the Web site for an application and complete guidelines.
Literary Arts, Literary Fellowships, 224 N.W. 13th Avenue, Suite 306, Portland, OR 97209. (503) 227-2583. Kristy Athens, Program Coordinator.
www.literary-arts.org

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Connect

Raracheshcubumba — Thu, 26 May 2005 18:56:46 GMT

the energy flows between our eyes
I can feel it flowing
I can feel its power
so perfect, with love I devour
and I become you
and you become me
as one new complex being
we transcend all thought
left with sensation
and this intimate connection
still deep in a trance
we float up in the sky
as we ground back down, we open our eyes
I think to myself
is this too good to be true?
I let my mind go, all that's left is you...

what is to come?
what lies on the horizon,
beckoning, guiding, a step closer to my Great Work
my path, this journey, excitement breeds
there's a reason I'm here, writing this right now
there's never an end, just another 'wow'
laced with raw fury, I'm tempted to test
my world, my mind set, my limiting beliefs
so that I may continue, free and at peace
without attachment, there's no holding back
such freedom is scary, deeper than any act
I could ever conjure, or even imagine
It's beyond the mind, beyond patterns of though
it's limitless, boundless, it's free, it's deep
beyond these words the meaning creeps
across your skin, into your brain
this gnosis described as between sane and insane
Divine guidance, higher self integration, essence
with every experience there is a lesson
in Dark, in Light, in Chaos and Calm
tranquil but fluid, like a slow moving pond
it reaches inside, to the ends of the Earth
it's like I've been in tune since Birth...

..Love..

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i think i introduced the image....

skyedrknss — Sun, 13 Mar 2005 18:53:44 GMT

i believe
therefor i misthought
the words that led
me to the whispers the spirit teased me with
so that i would dance
in clumsy grandeur
and hidden grace
in order to weave the spell
that just happened to your eyes
and made you my friend

and then other things transpired........

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

mmmmmmmmm

alexandra — Sun, 24 Apr 2005 20:23:36 GMT

A new time
A new space
memories keep passin
just the joyous ones you chase
existance for resistance
is our young and modern stance
drifting away from the common path
realized how important it is to laugh
chase butterflies on sunny days
watching waves crash and sting rays
enterin a new phase
time shift travel
thirteen moons unravel
truth finally reaches the surface
when you follow your instinct to do this
dreams follow you wherever you go
tune in to know which one shows
significant meaning
leaning toward beaming
light believing
that you are right
and that this is one hell of a fight
dont lose sight
fly with the kite

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Artist in residence program...

tpaulstemarie — Sun, 24 Apr 2005 17:01:05 GMT

I am fortunate enought to be a working poet in the area of writing that I care about the most - the education of teens to what poetry is and what it can offer them. Being a visual artist as well means that I'm ecstatic when I can combine the two on any sort of project.

I just completed a rogram that had all three of these factors wrapped into one!The project I was hired by ArtStarts for a 3 month artist in residence had me working with photography students and English students on creating bus shelter ads (non-ads in fact) reflecting their perspective of what it means to live in an urban environment. The finished pieces (about 40 in all) will be shown at the new ArtStarts Gallery in Vancouver, BC, and then they will be juried and ten will be chosen to be put up in bus shelters throughout Vancouver in lieu of the usual ads found there.

I took the kids on a trip through Vanocuver's downtown eastside which has the greatest amount of IV drug use in one area per capita than anywhere else in the world - no exaggeration here! This is an area that the kids have never visited and only held preconcieved notions about - just a bunch of junkies and crackheads - who cares sort of thing, y'know?

When I took them through, I gave them somewhat of a guided tour of when I was a junkie in the area (8 years ago), and then offered what the neighborhood means to me now. The difference in the photos taken by the photography student and the poetry written by the English students before and after the trip is mind-blowingly profound! One thing that I repeatedly emphasized to them is the history of that small area in the overall big picture of the city, and the fact that no matter what condition the people we see down there is, we all have the same basic need for respect, love, care and compassion. I believe that the kids really took this to heart, and I want to do more with them along these lines.

It was an incredible experience to see what these kids came up with for their final presentations combining poetry, photography and graphic design! When I get photos, I'll pot 'em for sure!

Best,
T.Paul
a.k.a.
SwankHipster
http://www.t-paul.com/index2.html

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1st Time Uploading - 3 New VP Posted

Enigma — Sun, 06 Feb 2005 05:44:08 GMT

1st time uploading, your thoughts??
Weird/Normal
One Never Knows
Life Teaches Us Lessons

posted in Visual Poetry - 5 replies

Leaving

jsnmatson2005 — Fri, 04 Feb 2005 07:58:56 GMT

Here's another poem I wrote today. Some days, I don't know why, but they arrive in bundles. If the link doesn't work, please see the poem "Leaving" in my profile. Thanks. :)

Jason

http://seattle.tribe.net/template/pub%2CViewPhoto.vm/context/pcard?page=1&currentoffset=1&parentid=39a058fe-0e97-4148-8b60-51a6dc0084ff&sortby&rows&r=10302

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jazz poet tribe

michael — Mon, 24 Jan 2005 10:35:17 GMT

http://jazzpoets.tribe.net/

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inca camera

dftram — Thu, 06 Jan 2005 22:00:38 GMT

your silhouette is caste on every wall

i turn to touch what was never there at all

a sadness lurks with the birds on leaveless trees

i know im sinking in your shallow eyes like seas

when i recall the times i dreamed upon your face

the burning etches stone and that i cant erase

a blooming onion is falling from the sky

i gaze upon this fruit and then i start to cry

what happens when your life has turned another page

your secure fence is down the key unlocked the cage

a limit on wonder is i how keep from thought

can we hold memories in ceramic pot

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Lisa

jsnmatson2005 — Mon, 13 Dec 2004 04:05:41 GMT

I just posted a new poem to my personal photo album called LISA (picture #11 in my personal profile).

This was a real on-line profile (not tribe) by a real girl somewhere named Lisa. I just used the text from her profile to create a poem about her. At first I was going to make it funny, but it didn't really turn out that way.

Anyway, I'm curios to see what you all think. :)

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New Comedy Poetry Tribe!

jsnmatson2005 — Fri, 10 Dec 2004 01:11:26 GMT

Here's a new tribe for those moments when you have something critical and important to say, while holding a rubber chicken.

http://seattle.tribe.net/tribe/servlet/template/pub,TribeCard.vm?tribeid=7f2e929a-cf1d-4c50-b14b-eb0b943d59c1&

Hope you'll join. :)

J

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On the Lighter Side

jsnmatson2005 — Thu, 09 Dec 2004 01:15:56 GMT

I just got done with my first yoga session - see #19 in the gallery for this tribe.

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Three new

jsnmatson2005 — Wed, 08 Dec 2004 04:39:09 GMT

I posted a few recent works in the gallary for this tribe, #16 & #17 are mine. #18 - the poem is by an unknown author. If anyone knows who, please let me know.

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Dearly Discarded

SixStringSongbird — Wed, 24 Nov 2004 06:52:31 GMT

This is my first time posting to this tribe (hi everybody!).

I just uploaded an image entitled "Dearly Discarded," from a photo shoot I modeled in last week for a fellow Tribe member (UniqueNudes/Richard Rasner, who has submitted a couple of things here in the past, I believe.) The image inspired me to write the poem, and the end result is now appearing in a gallery near you. Just a heads up, and comments are always welcome. Thanks! :)

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

New submission: Between Words

imagika — Tue, 30 Nov 2004 22:12:00 GMT

Hello everybody, great photos in the album! I just uploaded on of my own called Between Words...

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

posted new images

Sat, 23 Oct 2004 22:55:18 GMT

Hi, I'm new to this tribe. I've just posted four images in the album. I call them "landscapes - postcard series". Anyway here's my explanation as to what my motivation is behind this work.

Using landscape images in the background was important because there is a connection between postcards and landscapes. Landscapes are commonly seen on postcards. It was also important for myself to have some sort of connection to the landscape. Most of the landscape images are photo’s I have taken. All of the landscapes are places I have been. The images of myself in the forefront are also, for the most part, photo’s I’ve taken.
I’m interested in how the personal can become political when revealed to another individual or to large groups of people. This work is personal. The text is personal and poetic. I try to create and discover connections between the text and the images.
I find that in our daily interactions with others we pretend a lot, meaning we are not completely ourselves. I believe that when we are completely honest with ourselves it becomes easier to be honest with others.
This series is in postcard form because I started thinking about how we use postcards. What we write on them is not personal like what we would write in a letter, or in our journals (which can be very personal). There are valid reasons for this. Postcards are small and there is not much space to elaborate on statements made. Messages are often brief and summerize events/ thoughts. Postcards aren’t sent in a closed envelope and so are open for anyone to read while going through the mail.
I found how we use postcards very intriguing and so while making these images I thought it would be interesting to create postcards that had a lot of personal reference. Placing personal issues, personal thoughts out in the open.

I love to here other interpretations and am interested in some feedback.

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

A new submission

uniquenudes — Fri, 25 Jun 2004 16:18:22 GMT

WARNING: The lyrics contained within the image I just posted contain profanity, so if you are easily offended, er... don't read it, I guess.

I just put an image up in the Tribe album; currently it is the first image on Page 2 and is entitled "Emptee." The poet (who is known as "-C-") hired me to take some photographs for him to post his words over. They needed to have lots of blank space on them, and also he wanted some unsettling or industrial images in them. We sat down together and chose the layout for the words over images, often setting the column slightly off-center, or using other subtle disconcerting methods to keep you feeling just a bit off when you read them. In the case of this image, the colors and horizon, along with the matching tilt for the paragraph, is meant to convey a slightly sea-sick feeling.

This, I think, is the epitome of "visual poetry." When the photo *enhances* the poem, rather than just being a pretty backdrop. I hope you guys like it. Or at the very least, find it interesting.

-- Richard

NOTE: I take no responsibility (or likewise credit) for the poem. It was written by -C- and copyrighted to him. The layout design is his, too, although the actual Photoshop work as well as the background photo are mine (©2004 Nakayama Studios.)

posted in Visual Poetry - 3 replies

perhaps an interesting use for urban sprawl...

christopher — Tue, 28 Sep 2004 22:57:47 GMT

My wife said I need to be polite, so I am going to feebly attempt to introduce myself. Hello. I am Christopher.
I have an idea for a poetry collection, fused with photos of skylines. I have heard of many people a little put off with how cities spread, and i want ot approach this subject from the opposite standpoint.

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Cool tribe..

brian — Sat, 18 Sep 2004 21:42:21 GMT

I will work on a Visual poem to post here... NEETO MAN.. what an inspiration!

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New photo.

Fri, 17 Sep 2004 20:19:46 GMT

Hey, I've just recently joined this tribe so I just wanted to upload someting to contribute. It's not fantastic or anything.

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Elements of Rising Light

miquaelgaio — Wed, 18 Aug 2004 02:50:58 GMT

okay, i dropped an image of my poem, "Elements of Rising Light" into the images folder.

~ M.Gaio

posted in Visual Poetry - 1 reply

Earth Shoes

Chris — Sun, 08 Aug 2004 14:41:59 GMT

Earth Shoes
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2004

A new door opens,
An indian walks in,
He sets down his tomahawk,
And welcomes Columbus,

Columbus responds,
And builds up the Coast,
Then returns to Spain,
And brings with him Portugal.

Another Door Opens,
And East India walks to America,
And the Buffalo welcome him,
And he rides the American Dream,
His batmobile a Mazda Prototype,
He engineers the future,
In the secrecy of his basement,
Where cold politics run amok,
And the vicious blond bombers,
Try to push their asses against headboards,
But he is smart enough to know,
That wine is not the solution,
To the puzzle presented by Rubik and Big Green.

And so the Indian Moves with Columbus,
To topple the tower of Babble,
And Make the world,
One Big Video Game,
And Buy A Big Hitachi,
While Takahashi Spreads the Virus,
To infect the unclean,
With the dope that keeps them in Darkness,
Just for a time to prevent an uprising,

And then gradually,
As the sun shines on an Ellis Island,
Long missing from our land,
Share the freedoms of America,
And buy a McDonald's Happy Meal,
For Every Kid in Ethiopia,
And Fundamentally Change the world,
For the better.

The dreams of this power child,
Will be realized,
In the scripting of the future,
And the apostles will see fire again,
And speak the language of the people,
Through the open doors of the Alta Vista Babel Fish,
On the morning that the shark burns chrome,
And the children of tomorrows children,
Come to learn,
That the pen is mightier,
Than any sword, known, to mankind,

You can take that to the bank,
And set me up with a loan,
Through the dragonfly,
Whose relationship to me,
Is sounder than the fury,
And warmer than a summer day,
At the skydome in Toronto,
And who doesn't mind,
That her cousin, sometimes,
Has to cry for help.

Tom Cruise is on the big screen now,
And Ray will be out soon,
And if you can put the two together,
In Hollywoood,
You know exactly where I'll be resting,
At 11:30 this morning,
While the ships sail out from port hope,
And St. Catherines,
And the race of the century,
Is unleashed from its moorings,

And the people of the mighty Niagara,
Are so in tune with Brooklyn,
That it matters not what we say or do,
Because they are in fabulous love with us,
The spirits sing from beyond the grave,
of 400 years of enslavement,
And Jazz, Hip Hop, RnB, Techno,
Detroit, Chicago, and Boston,
Montreal, and Daytona,
Huntsville, and Monte Carlo,
Paris and London,
Are on Eastern Standard Time,
And Grenich Mean is Serious,
No single human can grasp my meaning,
Without 2 humpback whales,
And a journey back to 1969 with Spock,
And a girl with a notebook that plays,
Knight Rider and Speed Racer,
And James Bond's Mother,
Because we're taking it to the foundations,
And they are made of Tensile Concrete,
Strung Across Synthetic Cement,
And these Shoes,
Are 100%
Earth.

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Looking for Poets..

Fri, 16 Jul 2004 17:59:46 GMT

calling all Poets and Spoken Word Artists...

I'm putting together a poetry event in Menlo Park on September 16th @ 7:30pm.

I know that it's far away, but I'm trying to recruit some artists to who would like to share their work with an audience.

This event is being sponsored by the City of Menlo Park and Markstyle Center. The owner of Markstyle Center, (who is also a published poet, author and entreprenuer) will be attending and is interested in finding some talended individuals who would want to be published.

If you're interested in performing or attending as an audience member please send me an e-mail to carmelisland@yahoo.com and don't forget to include your contact info (e-mail, phone fax, mail...or however you want me to get in touch w/you!

Thank you =)

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Interesting

uniquenudes — Sun, 13 Jun 2004 10:00:02 GMT

I've had an idea for a photoshoot for a few months now, and I just found this tribe. I am shooting one of my (now semi-famous) blacklight nude shoots, and I intend to overlay a poem across the images... The shoot is of a very petite model, and the poem is entitled "The Epistles of Tinkerbell" by Summer Russell (which I am using with permission.) I think I'll post up my demo for this shoot in the photo album.
WARNING: This image is a nude, so if you're easily offended, don't look at it. Also, please note that the blacklight tribal images are drawn in with a mouse, and not drawn on the model with blacklight paint like they will be in the final image. Should be up in a few minutes. (3:00am PST)

Regards,
Richard Rasner
Nakayama Studios

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Poetry Game

One — Sun, 06 Jun 2004 19:23:57 GMT

Post a Poem about the persons picture above you. :)

It doesn't matter what type of poem or length.

posted in Visual Poetry - 2 replies

Hey all

zen — Thu, 10 Jun 2004 18:28:07 GMT

I really like Visual/Verbal poetry and image. I posted one pic on the tribe's photo. *waves*

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Haven't any of you...

Eric — Wed, 11 Feb 2004 05:54:46 GMT

Ever given a fuck about something other than yourselves? Have you ever "breathe that last breath". Have you ever risked everything for that one "true love". In other words why are you sucking up oxygen?

Talk people - The world is in need of your wisdom... Of your thoughts.

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

Dog Days

Eric — Wed, 04 Feb 2004 13:49:09 GMT

Hi to all of you.

I posted a piece entitled dog days. My goal is to try and match photos to the poems I've written. Some of my more mundane issues are choosing the correct color and font type. I also worry over the actual positioning of words on the photo.

Eric

posted in Visual Poetry - 0 replies

visual poetry

Shin Yu — Thu, 29 Jan 2004 03:50:05 GMT

Hi Folks,
I am an emerging Asian American poet and photographer heavily influenced by contemporary visual arts and concrete poetry. I have a new book of poems, Equivalence, (www.lalamedapress.com/books/equivalence.html) recently out. I am trying to get this book some attention in the press. Please contact me if you would like to receive an excerpt of the manuscript, or a PDF file, if you would be interested in reviewing the book.
Thanks!
Shin Yu Pai

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