Friday 18 January 2019


A thatched roof covers a marble arch
in a dichotomy of a surreal dream
where two birds without a name
come from a sea of crystals balls.
A bird's eye view is brought under their wings;
they perch upon my Mediterranean sea.
Archetypes of palms and coconut trees,
islands resting upon the crests of waves,
footprints in the sand that are never erased,
on the sunkissed shores hutments are lined,
mud walls adorned by a paste of rice,
nights when the moon hides among trees,
colours on a palette swelling up in tides,
overflow a godly canvas and rush to the rocks in a spray of light.
I overhear their restful words, "This world of mine is a crucible of a kind .
Nothing ever freezes; everything flows into colours I see but cannot name.
Once upon a time we took a flight in search of many precious stones.
Now we perch upon a window sill and watch the waves come and go.
The afternoon warms our tired wings, and all that we sought,
comes back to us in a haze of the afterglow."
Thank you +anu x for the treasure from the world of Picasso
Pablo Picasso
Les pigeons, Cannes (1957)
i do not seek . i find
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Pablo Picasso (25 October 1881 – 8 April 1973)

Picasso is not just a man and his work. Picasso is always a legend, indeed almost a myth. In the public view he has long since been the personification of genius in modern art. Picasso is an idol, one of those rare creatures who act as crucibles in which the diverse and often chaotic phenomena of culture are focussed, who seem to body forth the artistic life of their age in one person. The same thing happens in politics, science, sport. And it happens in art.

~ pablopicasso.org
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image from artribune.com
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#Art #PabloPicasso
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