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| Art from ArtRoger | |
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Visit www.RogerCummiskey.com |
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| Only Original Watercolour Paintings for your Pleasure directly from the Artist. All paintings are once off and hand signed. Enjoy!!  Here is a NEW POEM for your Criticism. WHAT DO YOU THINK? (#362 20/02/2001)  A Painting of a Young Poet Bury me in the old church-yard The bell! The bell! Farewell! Farewell! O, we got a good breath of ozone round the Head today A thimbleful, just to whet your appetite, they say. In the silence, pick, pack, pock, puck. Blackrock, Stillorgan, Goatstown, Dundrum and Sandyford Carrickmines, Stradbrook, no more battles on the rocks. They would meet quietly as if they had known each other And made their tryst in some more secret place. He would fade into something impalpable Under her eyes and then in a moment he would be transfigured. Christian brothers be damned Newman and Byron The telegraphpoles held the galloping notes Of music between the punctual bars. The sunlight breaking suddenly on his sight Turned the sky and clouds into a fantastic world Of sombre masses with lakelike spaces of dark rosy light. He wanted to sin with another of his kind A cry for an iniquitous abandonment. In the silence their dark fire kindled the dusk Into a tawny glow. What doth it profit a man to gain the whole world If he suffer the loss of his immortal soul? His soul was fattening and congealing into a gross grease Grazing out of darkened eyes, helpless, perturbed and human For a bovine god to stare upon. It would rain forever, noiselessly All life would be choked off, noiselessly. Noiselessly floating corpses amid the litter of the wreckage of the world. Lucifer, non serviam: I will not serve. Time is, time was, but time shall be no more! The greatest torment, poena damni, the pain of loss. Ever, never; ever, never. The Reverend Stephen Dedalus, S.J. His destiny was to be elusive of social and religious orders. Destined to learn his own wisdom apart from others To learn the wisdom of others wandering among the snares of the world. A day of dappled seaborne clouds. Words, was it their colours? No, the poise and balance of the period itself. Stephaneforos. Yes! Yes! Yes! He would create A living thing, new and soaring and beautiful, Impalpable, imperishable. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted The first faint noise of gently moving water broke the silence, Low and faint and whispering, faint as the bells of sleep; Hither and thither, hither and thither; A faint flame trembled on her cheek. I hope I am not detaining you A flaming bloody sugar. This race and this country and this life Produced me. I shall express myself as I am. Yellow insolence. Art is the human disposition of sensible or Intelligible matter for an esthetic end. A soft liquid joy, the soft space of silent spaces Of oceanic silence, of swallows flying through The seadusk over the flowing waters. The stout student who stood below farted briefly. Did an angel speak? I’m a ballocks. I am and I know I am And I admit that I am. Darkness falls from the air Brightness falls from the air. I will not serve My defence Silence, exile and cunning. Author: Roger Cummiskey Compiled from “A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man” by James Joyce. http://www.RogerCummiskey.com rogercummiskey@eircom.net Last Years offering which has been changed. Under Construction ------------------------ I am genius I am Joyce. A Dubliner of some renown Hated, Reviled, admired Poet and critic Ten years I had to wait for Dubliners to be published For pittance Because I'm genius Because I'm Joyce. Yes, James Jaysus Joyce. A Portrait helped Fifteen years to complete Ulysses The greatest daytime novel of all time Teaching English as a foreign language In Trieste and Zurich. Patronised by a Yank of Faith Though I had none, Harriet Weaver. Sylvia Beach's Shakespeare in Paris My office And Nora my model, inseparable; Hemmingway carried me over his shoulder Drunk, we sang, argued, danced, Played the piano and guitar. Dublin, my town, 1904 my year And 16th June my day But all wanted to know in their Ignorance if they featured, And did they what. They suffered for their lack of faith In James Jaysus Joyce Because I'm genius because I'm Joyce Mine eyes are a bitch I've moved and moved Borrowed and borrowed Written and written. Blind Homer helped the plot And Ibsen influenced So did Gogarty ha! ha! Beckett learned Wild geese abroad. Bloom was Israelite One for Molly. Bugden my pal, helped get the Greatest night time novel of all time Out of the Traps. Chamber Music and Poems Penyeach Kept debtors at bay Anna Livia Plurabelle and Earwicker Thought their way through the night Towards the sea Work in Progress Tim Finnegan had lived at Watling Street Shaun and Shem come into their own. Because I'm genius because I'm Joyce. Author: Roger Cummiskey, 1998 Roger Cummiskey B.Comm., Artist; 14 Lindenvale, Blackrock, Co Dublin, Ireland. Phone/Fax: +353 1 283 2253 "Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount strand"? James Joyce Try these sites Artist These are some of the sites which exhibit my work. Canadian Based http://www.imagemakers.mb.ca/guest/guest.html Irish Based http://www.homemaker.ie Visit Art Gallery http://newirishart.com/RogerCummiskey/Thumbs.htm http://irishshop.com/rogcumar.html http://www.artifact.ie/ Keyword search/ cummiskey http://ireland.com/literature/bloomsday/joyce/cummiskey.htm UK Based www.newartportfolio.com/rogercummiskey http://www.art4deco.com Artist/ cummiskey USA Based http://www.celtic.com/clients/CelticShop/welcome.nsf/Subjects/Celtic+Arts www.celtic.com Arts www.galleryNOW.com/cummiskey www.ArtOriginal.com http://www.artstar.com/artists/rogercummiskey http://www.absolutearts.com/portfolios/a/artroger http://www.onlinelithos.com www.zentao.com/sas/graphart/Roger/ http://www.findmeanartist.com/showchapter.asp?siteid=263&catid=79&search=1 http://www.maxpages.com/artroger http://www.djpaulc.com |
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