Original Art for Sale

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Okay original art for sale. First of all by something you like. Why is it so hard to say and have it sink in. Everybody’s taste in art is different. You can’t really give some piece of art and, often, have success. Our taste in music is very much like our taste in art.ur Have you ever noticed where everyone seems to like a different song. Our selection in art is just as individual as it is in music. A new place to buy art is Art for Sale Original,  Click Here

That’s our new site for selling art!

Oh dreamers
poets
artists
musicians
magicians of art
your pain is beauty itself
rolled off of you fingers
and into our hearts
our temporal hearts
When the rocks came alive
they made things
like children playing
except the art entered and
beauty said
share me
rescue me, art
tell me it all mattered

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Letting It Out | Poem by Allison Grayhurst

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Requiem Oil Painting

Letting it out

The vision is a smoke cloud
released from my pocket, wrapping
me with its smoky warmth, breaking chaos
at its backbone.

A thousand chains of fear and grief
swoop down from the once singing sky
to crash on my limbs and drown me
with their weight.

God as full as the sea, flushing through me,
flowing around me with the starfish and the stingrays,
with the minnow fish and the barnacles,
God outside me, inside of me, holding me
in this vision, breaking the vine.

Bio: is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 1050 poems published in over 425 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay; www.allisongrayhurst.com

Art: “Requiem” by Jackson

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They lie down | Poem by Allison Grayhurst

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they_lie_down_poem

They lie down

as
children would below the blankets
on a cold, unheated night.
They fend for themselves, using the vocabulary
of prophets, the tears of the misplaced
and the belief in mercy.
They stand tall at an impasse,
draw pictures in the wind
and covet love as the only treasure.
They give light in a torrent of darkness and pressure.
They reach new plateaus of surrender
with each failed plan. And all the time
they are singing,
of sadness
of wantonness
of the joy of being loved
by God.

Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three times nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 1000 poems published in over 410 international journals. She has sixteen published books of poetry, seven collections and nine chapbooks. She lives in Toronto with her family. She is a vegan. She also sculpts, working with clay; www.allisongrayhurst.com

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Water Poems on a Hot Day

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The hot summer sun
makes cake of my skin
and the sweat lets me know
I’m alive

the water
is better then

it is needed then

and noticed

Can a poem be the water on a hot day

can the water flow down
this page
in
this poem

this time or the next
until there is no next

no new
meanderings

of the water in a poem until it lies there in a pool on the page, on this page

Reprinted from Flowing Water Poem

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My Will Poem

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My Will Poem

Our history is strewn with
brothers killing brothers
over kingdoms
great and small.

Kings and widowed queens
wished they were family still
when they became a will.

Once a person brave and strong
could swing a sword, but still
they became a will.

With judgement strong
they took a pen and
loved you more than them
or left you out in a whim,
when they became a will.

It’s better to die a penny shy
in a home for the poor
than to judge my family
on the way out the door,
for then the rose
left beside the stone
is for me, and me alone.

For my Aunt Ruth…..david michael jackson

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What Are We Fighting For Poem

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Old men pounding tables
sending young men to war
young men march in cadence
singing what are we fighting for

Oh to give the ladies
a chance to end this rhyme
and for their sons and daughters
to lead us this time

david michael jackson

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Her Gift | Poem by Allison Grayhurst

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She opens up the cupboard door
and smiles the beautiful smile.
She moves across the hardwood floors,
focused as a hawk.
There is something in her I cannot touch,
that has lived long beyond her short ten months.
She claps her hands and passes the ball. She waves
goodbye and washes the stains from my heart.
She is calm as a resting lion cub,
sure of her place beneath the sun. She is
a good friend, marked by her own brand of humour
with a love so bright it strips anew
even the roots of my belonging.

Her Gift by Allison Grayhurst
Allison Grayhurst is a full member of the League of Canadian Poets. Three of her poems have been nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, and she has more than 1000 poems published in over 410 international literary magazines, journals and anthologies in Canada, United States, England, India, Ireland, China, Scotland, Wales, Austria, Romania, New Zealand, Bangladesh, Colombia and Australia. …..
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