Samuel
37 members found (show all)
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Samuel Durkin
United Kingdom
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Samuel Pevehouse
United States
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Samuel Khusunawi
Australia
97 creative works found
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'Congo Spirit' HEAL Africa Hospital, Eastern Democratic Republic of Congo
by Melinda KerrUS$5.99–US$136.80
Love him. And available as a Christmas card! It is full size just doesn’t look it here. / HEAL Africa calendar available now!!! CLICK HERE. / And there’s a trucker cap. / Hey, doin’ good needn’t mean you can’t be cool at the same time. CLICK HERE FOR THE HAT!
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Let me tell you about Samuel. I met Samuel at Mamman Jeanne’s orphanage in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Africa. Mamman Jeanne’s orphange is sponsored by CNEC Partners International and supported by Heal Africa. Samuel danced for us on arrival. He was awesome. I then had the privilege of interviewing him. In short, here’s his story: When Samuel was 2 and still being breast fed, his mother was set upon randomly by the militia. They do that, for fun. She was attacked with machetes and kiiled where she stood. Samuel was cut by the blow. You can see the scar on the left hand side of his face. He also has some scars on his scalp. Oh and he lost his left hand. Thinking they were all dead and their days work done, the militia left. Samuel was discovered, barely but still alive. He was taken from his mother’s corpse and somehow delivered to Mamman Jeanne. A remarkable woman who nursed him herself (as she was already breast feeding her own child). Samuel is now 16 and still at Mamman Jeanne’s orphanage. Which resides in a war torn country not ‘important’ enough to save. People like Samuel are everywhere in Congo. Everywhere. People like Mamman Jeanne? Not quite so many. Samuel likes playing soccer and dancing. Prior to us arriving a chid had been stolen from the orphanage by the militia to be a child soldier. How long do you reckon Samuel has? When people ask you to donate to these causes, they’re asking you because it’s the only way they will survive. It’s as simple and as gruesome as that. Not unlike the crime in the first place.
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Celebrating the Gloriousness of Big Girls and Big Cakes. Painted in the Spring of 2007 The original of this painting is 20”x20” and is now owned by a private collector. (I retain all copyrights) Visit my Online Art gallery
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And she was in bitterness of soul, and prayed to the LORD and wept in anguish. Then she made a vow and said, “O LORD of hosts, if You will indeed look on the affliction of Your maidservant and remember me, and not forget Your maidservant, but will give Your maidservant a male child, then I will give him to the LORD all the days of his life, and no razor shall come upon his head.” ~1 Samuel 10-11 Stock Credits: / Woman by pieceofmestock.deviantart.com / Keys by bazzlestock.deviantart.com
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Captured at anchor in Winter Bay, Saturna Island, Gulf Islands, BC.
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The original art is painted acrylic on stretched canvas and is 30” x 24” The original has been sold. / My website can be found here
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From my collection: / Perception is Reality Copyright © Sharon Mau 2009 / All Rights Reserved Featured Art 12 June 2009 Rural Around the Globe A composite of two of my images; one of Ho’okipa Beach Maui at sunset, and one of a beautiful horse / Upcountry layered over Ho’okipa. See the person on the lava rocks below? ;) “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan / A stately pleasure-dome decree : / Where Alph, the sacred river, ran / Through caverns measureless to man / Down to a sunless sea. / So twice five miles of fertile ground / With walls and towers were girdled round : / And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills, / Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; / And here were forests ancient as the hills, / Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. / But oh ! that deep romantic chasm / which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! / A savage place ! / as holy and enchanted / As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted / By woman wailing for her daemon-lover ! / And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, / As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, / A mighty fountain momently was forced : / Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst / Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, / Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail : / And ‘mid these dancing rocks at once and ever / It flung up momently the sacred river. / Five miles meandering with a mazy motion / Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, / Then reached the caverns measureless to man, / And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : / And ‘mid this tumult Kubla heard / from far Ancestral voices prophesying war ! / The shadow of the dome of pleasure / Floated midway on the waves ; / Where was heard the mingled measure / From the fountain and the caves. / It was a miracle of rare device, / A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice ! / A damsel with a dulcimer / In a vision once I saw : / It was an Abyssinian maid, / And on her dulcimer she played, / Singing of Mount Abora. / Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, / To such a deep delight ‘twould win me, / That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, / That sunny dome ! / those caves of ice ! / And all who heard should see them there, / And all should cry, Beware ! Beware ! / His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! / Weave a circle round him thrice, / And close your eyes with holy dread, / For he on honey-dew hath fed, / And drunk the milk of Paradise.” ~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge – 1797
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What the hell is going on (and other uplifting stories)...
by Melinda KerrOk, ok first of all, everyone breath. Cool. Now let’s check. Melbourne experiencing four seasons in one day? Check. Shane War…
Ok, ok first of all, everyone breath. Cool. Now let’s check. Melbourne experiencing four seasons in one day? Check. Shane Warne caught out again? Check. Running my own business continuing to be challenging? Check. Darren Stones steering the good ship RB around icebergs with a confident if not somewhat alcohol induced flourish? Check. Some people on some distant journal thread arguing about freedom of speech as if RB is the most vital instrument for world peace on earth. Whilst slandering, vilifying and taunting each other with racial, overworked cliches from behind psuedo names? Check. So nothing new or unusual about today then? Un check. What the… Check this… Today in seperate orders people have bought… 1 canvas print of shoe woman plus 20 cards of shoe woman 150 cards of mother & child 25 cards of Possibility II 25 cards of the congo skipping kids & a further 26 of these 20 cards of this beauty 5 cards of these guys 5 cards of these little ones 2 cards of this chap 2 cards of this dude 2 cards of this princess 5 cards of this piece of possibility and 2 cards of this beautiful, precious boy I don’t know anything much about freedom of speech, flags, philosophy or anything like the stuff that’s been going on here this week. But I’ll tell you all ONE VERY IMPORTANT THING. These purchases will save lives. These people live on less than a dollar a day. They live in slums, gutters and sheds made of flattened alluminium cans. The love, they laugh, they dream – they dodge bullets, they run as fast as they can from rapists usually unsuccessfully, they starve and they cry. Every cent of revenue goes to them and the brave souls who live in a war zone to help them. They couldn’t give a rats about flags, and virtual slanging matches. They live on the real edge. I didn’t cry once in Africa. Right now I am sitting here drowning in tears. Maybe change is possible? Even the tiniest bit?? Thanks RB – thanks whoever. EDIT: SEEMS LIKE A GOOD TIME TO DEBUT THIS FELLA. Oh and thinking of turning some of these into Chrissy cards if anyone’s interested.
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The original art is painted acrylic on stretched canvas and is 30” x 24” The original has now sold but other work can be found / on my own website Arts-Fine.co.uk
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We wander`d to the Pine Forest / That skirts the Ocean`s foam; / The lightest wind was in its nest, / The tempest in its home. / The whispering waves were half asleep, / The clouds were gone to play, / And on the bosom of the deep / The smile of Heaven lay; / It seem`d as if the hour were one / Sent from beyond the skies / Which scatter`d from above the sun / A light of Paradise! Words by Percy Bysshe Shelley Painting using acrylics, inks, gold and silver leaf / 102×102 cm This painting is dedicated to Percy Bysshe Shelley who harmonies with the hues beneath the water. Samuel Barber composed music based on Shelley’s poems – Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory. / Percy Bysshe Shelley 18th December 2008
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Representing the duality of personalities, the ying and yang of our own selves. Painted in spring 2007, the Original Art is 20” x 16” on stretched canvas. Visit my website For Original Paintings to Buy
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A little cartoon version of one of the guys from work, also in the Red bubble community. Samuel’s Red Bubble Page / /
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Samuel Clemens (Mark Twain), oil. I struggle with paint.
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street scape in london
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@ All images are copyright of Rosa Cobos 2008 . Rights reserved This is Samuel Gibert Cobos… our younger sun…. He is an artist.. an actor looking for his “place in this strange and difficult world.. all our love for him and other actors and actress who help us to understand ourselves trough their wonderful multiple-idenfitication. / Rosa. Behind the transparent courtain / of self recognition… / Mouth designed.. / as the sparkliing youth.. / meeting new words.. / to say to bewildered companions. / Your look has been nailed in love.. / to the vacuum of light and voices. / A present.. in presence of … / the unpretentious deliveries.. / of messages.. / to the ones that may be.. / do not give a damm for your glory. / We wish all for you.. / more than life and love… / a breathing of creative whisper.. / nurturing your soul.. / with a constant and faithful watching.. / since you were a tiny body.. / attached to a huge heart.. / and received as an sparkling star. / (Rosa Cobos) © Copyright Rosa cobos 2008 . All rights reserved
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Frost at Midnight / By: Samuel Taylor Coleridge / / The Frost performs its secret ministry, / Unhelped by any wind. The owlet’s cry / Came loud, -and hark, again! loud as before. / The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, / Have left me to that solitude, which suits / Abstruser musings: save that at my side / My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. / ‘Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it disturbs / And vexes meditation with its strange / And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and wood, / With all the numberless goings-on of life, / Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame / Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; / Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, / Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing. / Methinks its motion in this hush of nature / Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, / Making it a companionable form, / Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit / By its own moods interprets, every where / Echo or mirror seeking of itself, / And makes a toy of Thought. But O! how oft, / How oft, at school, with most believing mind, / Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars, / To watch that fluttering stranger! and as oft / With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt / Of my sweet birthplace, and the old church-tower, / Whose bells, the poor man’s only music, rang / From morn to evening, all the hot Fair-day, / So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted me / With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear / Most like articulate sounds of things to come! / So gazed I, till the soothing things, I dreamt, / Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my dreams! / And so I brooded all the following morn, / Awed by the stern preceptor’s face, mine eye / Fixed with mock study on my swimming book: / Save if the door half opened, and I snatched / A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped up, / For still I hoped to see the stranger’s face, / Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved, / My playmate when we both were clothed alike! Dear Babe, that sleepest cradled by my side, / Whose gentle breathings, heard in this deep calm, / Fill up the interspersed vacancies / And momentary pauses of the thought! / My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart / With tender gladness, thus to look at thee, / And think that thou shalt learn far other lore, / And in far other scenes! For I was reared / In the great city, pent mid cloisters dim, / And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars. / But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a breeze / By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags / Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds, / Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores / And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and hear / The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible / Of that eternal language, which thy God / Utters, who from eternity doth teach / Himself in all, and all things in himself. / Great universal Teacher! he shall mould / Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask. Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, / Whether the summer clothe the general earth / With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing / Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch / Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch / Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall / Heard only in the trances of the blast, / Or if the secret ministry of frost / Shall hang them up in silent icicles, / Quietly shining to the quiet Moon. Thanks for viewing my work!!! If you like what you see here, have a peek at the rest of my work. Maybe you will find a nice gift here for that special occasion!! / PSSSSTTTT – Christmas is coming!!!! / / Copyright 2008 Julie – Julie Alexander. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use prohibited. My work does NOT belong to the public domain. It may not be used in any way, shape or form without my prior written permission.
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old gray cemetery,knoxville,tn
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Samuel is a white cheeked gibbon who lives in Bristol Zoo. White-cheeked gibbons are found in Laos, Vietnam, and southern China in evergreen tropical rainforests and monsoon forests. Gibbons have a home range of about 75 to 100 acres (0.3 to 0.4 km2) and travel about one mile (1.6 km) per day through this range. They defend approximately three-quarters of their range as their group territory. Defense takes the form of calls from the center of the territory, calls from the boundaries, confrontations across the boundaries, chasing across the boundaries, and, rarely, physical contact between males. Gibbons are arboreal and spend most of their time in the canopy. They rarely stay on the ground for very long. All gibbons are endangered, largely due to deforestation. They are also hunted and trapped for the pet trade.
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Mark Twain, great American humorist, usually had something witty to say on just about any subject. I coupled this quote on fishing for love with a macro of a nice little bream (perch) my husband caught in a little pond in Oklahoma.
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7 Shape Vector drawn by hand from scratch in Xara Xtreme. Absurdist modern playwrite. More about Samuel Beckett / —— /
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had this idea for a little while now
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