Now that's what I call art

comes to an end today

It is replaced tomorrow by

My Virtual Gallery of Favourite Paintings

at

myvirtualgalleryoffavouritepaintings.blogspot.com

-o0o-

No.63

POEM

Dejan Stojanovic b.1959

To hear never-heard sounds,

To see never-seen colours and shapes,

To try to understand the imperceptible

Power pervading the world;

To fly and find pure ethereal substances

That are not of matter

But of that invisible soul pervading reality.

To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;

To be a lantern in the darkness

Or an umbrella in a stormy day;

To feel much more than know.

To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;

To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;

To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;

To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets

Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.

To be a smile on the face of a woman

And shine in her memory

As a moment saved without planning.

-o0o-

No.62

The Door

Miroslav Holub

Go and open the door.

Maybe outside there’s

a tree, or a wood,

a garden,

or a magic city.

Go and open the door.

Maybe a dog’s rummaging.

Maybe you’ll see a face,

or an eye,

or the picture

of a picture.

Go and open the door.

If there’s a fog

it will clear.

Go and open the door.

Even if there’s only

the darkness ticking,

even if there’s only

the hollow wind,

even if

nothing

is there,

go and open the door.

At least

there’ll be

a draught.

-o0o-

No.61

Billy and Me

James Hogg 1770-1835

Where the pools are bright and deep,

Where the grey trout lies asleep,

Up the river and over the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the blackbird sings the latest,

Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,

Where the nestlings chirp and flee,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the mowers mow the cleanest,

Where the hay lies thick and greenest,

There to track the homeward bee,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Where the hazel bank is steepest,

Where the shadow falls the deepest,

Where the clustering nuts fall free,

That's the way for Billy and me.

Why the boys should drive away

Little sweet maidens from the play,

Or love to banter and fight so well,

That's the thing I never could tell.

But this I know, I love to play

Through the meadow, among the hay;

Up the water and over the lea,

That's the way for Billy and me.

-o0o-

No.60

A Calm

George Santayana 1863-1952

When the towering heights of the middle heavens

Deep down in the ocean appear,

How pleasant to see the great summer clouds

Reflect in the water so clear.

There are trees above,

There are trees below,

Huge rocks and sloping hills;

And another Sun with its mellow glow

The pictured landscape fills.

The deep, silent mountains beneath the calm wave

Uphold their companions above.

Until hurrying winds from the breezy west

Sky, mountains, and landscape remove.

-o0o-

No.59

'Tis the Last Rose of Summer

Thomas Moore  1779-1852

 'Tis the last rose of summer,

            Left blooming alone ;

      All her lovely companions

            Are faded and gone ;

      No flower of her kindred,

            No rose-bud is nigh,

      To reflect back her blushes,

            Or give sigh for sigh.

      I'll not leave thee, thou lone one !

            To pine on the stem ;

      Since the lovely are sleeping,

            Go sleep thou with them.

      Thus kindly I scatter

            Thy leaves o'er the bed,

      Where thy mates of the garden

            Lie scentless and dead.

      So soon may I follow,

            When friendships decay,

      And from Love's shining circle

            The gems drop away.

      When true hearts lie wither'd,

            And fond ones are flown,

      Oh ! who would inhabit

            This bleak world alone ?

-o0o-

No.58

The Man on Television

Sophia White 

She saw a man on television

In a suit and tie

And he wore a fine felt hat

Cocked over his eye.

She saw him sing and whistle

And dance a little step

And she wished the men today

Would not be so unkempt.

She saw a man on television

Woo a pretty lass

With smiles, winks, and daffodils,

And diamonds made of glass.

She saw him tip his hat to her

And offer her his arm

And lead her to the dance floor

With gentlemanly charm.

She saw a man on television

Smile with easy grace

And wished that she could find a man

With such an honest face.

But she knew that man on television

Was a dying breed

And suits and ties and tall felt hats

Had all grown obsolete.

-o0o-

IMPORTANT

A favourite blog comes to an end

A new blog takes its place

The first post at

now that's what I call art

appeared on 13th April 2014 and the final post will be made on Sunday 30th September 2018

The new blog

My Virtual Gallery of Favourite Paintings

will begin on Monday 1st September at

myvirtualgalleryoffavouritepaintings.blogspot.com

-o0o-

No.57

Extract from

Song of Songs

 My beloved spake, and said unto me, 

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;

The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, 

and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. 

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

-o0o-