She is So Sexy
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I took this photo a few days ago in Belgium
I wanted to express female erotism and sensuality
© 2010 - Ben Heine
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I took this photo a few days ago in Belgium
I wanted to express female erotism and sensuality
© 2010 - Ben Heine
Showing posts with label skin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label skin. Show all posts
Self Portrait - Surreal Touch
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This is a full digital painting that
took me several hours of work
I thought I'd never finish it... ;)
Here below is the making of
(click to enlarge)
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© 2010 - Ben Heine
Marcin Bondarowicz
- i d e a m a n -
- i d e a m a n -
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© 2009 - Ben Heine
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Marcin is a professional Polish painter and illustrator. He lives in Poland as a freelance artist. He regularly publishes his highly elaborated cartoons on several websites and collaborates with a wide range of renowned magazines and newspapers.
Please visit his website for more info: www.bondarowiczart.republika.pl
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Please visit his website for more info: www.bondarowiczart.republika.pl
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African Continent
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Ode To An Elephant
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By Marjorie DeNaut Abner
Oh magnificent giant of the jungle
Born with tusks of ivory
Instead of your protection
They threaten your extinction
The circus is in town
Remember most the elephants
Instead of the Clowns
Entering the tent with an overwhelming rush
Gliding smoothly whisper soft across the ground
Your great strength and wisdom
Put to use extricating woods of value
So deep within the forest
With love and protection for your family
Let this generation not to be known
To allow your demise
Like the dinosaur don't become
Just a figure in a museum
Or a picture in a book
Silence forever the poacher's gun
Let the elephant be the one who won!
(The poem appeared on poemhunter.com)
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Ode To An Elephant
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By Marjorie DeNaut Abner
Oh magnificent giant of the jungle
Born with tusks of ivory
Instead of your protection
They threaten your extinction
The circus is in town
Remember most the elephants
Instead of the Clowns
Entering the tent with an overwhelming rush
Gliding smoothly whisper soft across the ground
Your great strength and wisdom
Put to use extricating woods of value
So deep within the forest
With love and protection for your family
Let this generation not to be known
To allow your demise
Like the dinosaur don't become
Just a figure in a museum
Or a picture in a book
Silence forever the poacher's gun
Let the elephant be the one who won!
(The poem appeared on poemhunter.com)
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My Mother's
Womb
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Womb
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Before I Knocked
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By Dylan Thomas (*)
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.
I who was deaf to spring and summer,
Who knew not sun nor moon by name,
Felt thud beneath my flesh's armour,
As yet was in a molten form
The leaden stars, the rainy hammer
Swung by my father from his dome.
I knew the message of the winter,
The darted hail, the childish snow,
And the wind was my sister suitor;
Wind in me leaped, the hellborn dew;
My veins flowed with the Eastern weather;
Ungotten I knew night and day.
As yet ungotten, I did suffer;
The rack of dreams my lily bones
Did twist into a living cipher,
And flesh was snipped to cross the lines
Of gallow crosses on the liver
And brambles in the wringing brains.
My throat knew thirst before the structure
Of skin and vein around the well
Where words and water make a mixture
Unfailing till the blood runs foul;
My heart knew love, my belly hunger;
I smelt the maggot in my stool.
And time cast forth my mortal creature
To drift or drown upon the seas
Acquainted with the salt adventure
Of tides that never touch the shores.
I who was rich was made the richer
By sipping at the vine of days.
I, born of flesh and ghost, was neither
A ghost nor man, but mortal ghost.
And I was struck down by death's feather.
I was a mortal to the last
Long breath that carried to my father
The message of his dying christ.
You who bow down at cross and altar,
Remember me and pity Him
Who took my flesh and bone for armour
And doublecrossed my mother's womb.
Before I Knocked
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By Dylan Thomas (*)
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was as shapeless as the water
That shaped the Jordan near my home
Was brother to Mnetha's daughter
And sister to the fathering worm.
I who was deaf to spring and summer,
Who knew not sun nor moon by name,
Felt thud beneath my flesh's armour,
As yet was in a molten form
The leaden stars, the rainy hammer
Swung by my father from his dome.
I knew the message of the winter,
The darted hail, the childish snow,
And the wind was my sister suitor;
Wind in me leaped, the hellborn dew;
My veins flowed with the Eastern weather;
Ungotten I knew night and day.
As yet ungotten, I did suffer;
The rack of dreams my lily bones
Did twist into a living cipher,
And flesh was snipped to cross the lines
Of gallow crosses on the liver
And brambles in the wringing brains.
My throat knew thirst before the structure
Of skin and vein around the well
Where words and water make a mixture
Unfailing till the blood runs foul;
My heart knew love, my belly hunger;
I smelt the maggot in my stool.
And time cast forth my mortal creature
To drift or drown upon the seas
Acquainted with the salt adventure
Of tides that never touch the shores.
I who was rich was made the richer
By sipping at the vine of days.
I, born of flesh and ghost, was neither
A ghost nor man, but mortal ghost.
And I was struck down by death's feather.
I was a mortal to the last
Long breath that carried to my father
The message of his dying christ.
You who bow down at cross and altar,
Remember me and pity Him
Who took my flesh and bone for armour
And doublecrossed my mother's womb.
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(*) Dylan Marlais Thomas (1914 - 1953) was a Welsh poet. He is regarded by many as one of the 20th century's most influential poets. In addition to poetry, Thomas also wrote short stories and scripts for film and radio, with the latter frequently performed by Thomas himself. His public readings, particularly in America, won him great acclaim; his booming, at times ostentatious, voice with a subtle Welsh lilt, became almost as famous as his works. Read more.
------------------
--> The poem appeared on bryantmcgill.com
PS : This is a watercolour study (life drawing) made at the Académie Royale des Beaux Arts de Bruxelles.
To See Her is a Picture
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By Emily Dickinson
To see her is a picture,
To hear her is a tune,
To know her an intemperance
As innocent as June;
By which to be undone
Is dearer than Redemption,
Which never to receive,
Makes mockery of melody
It might have been to live.
(The poem appeared on
Quotesandpoem.com)
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By Emily Dickinson
To see her is a picture,
To hear her is a tune,
To know her an intemperance
As innocent as June;
By which to be undone
Is dearer than Redemption,
Which never to receive,
Makes mockery of melody
It might have been to live.
(The poem appeared on
Quotesandpoem.com)
.
PS : The drawing was inspired from a photo by
the talented Ejenia Spasskaja, Minificus
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the talented Ejenia Spasskaja, Minificus
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The World's Like
a Flower
By Free Faller
The world’s like a flower
Either fallen or grown
The leaves cover secrets
And the petals are shown
We're like a flower
The world's like a rose
Every rose has its thorns
If we make a mistake
The skin gets torn
We're like a flower
The world's like a daisy
Pretty and bright
We all have our colors
But in a way we're just right
We're like a flower
The world's like a flower
All the thorns will pass through
The world's like a flower
Just waiting to bloom
(The poem appeared on aboutflowershome.com)
a Flower
By Free Faller
The world’s like a flower
Either fallen or grown
The leaves cover secrets
And the petals are shown
We're like a flower
The world's like a rose
Every rose has its thorns
If we make a mistake
The skin gets torn
We're like a flower
The world's like a daisy
Pretty and bright
We all have our colors
But in a way we're just right
We're like a flower
The world's like a flower
All the thorns will pass through
The world's like a flower
Just waiting to bloom
(The poem appeared on aboutflowershome.com)
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