Mixed media Art – added several techniques, with the same face

Have you ever thought of how many faces you express per day ?
Facial expressions, are the most distinct feature within us all, telling a
thousand stories every second.
People try to hide this natural ability to express themselves, but this is
written in our genes as a natural language.
It’s said that to smile, uses far less muscles than it does to frown.
Ever face tells a story, everyone understands.  Become one with your facial
expression and the world will become one with you.









Faces repetitive beauty by Annabellerockz



 A Face

If one could have that little head of hers
Painted upon a background of pale gold,
Such as the Tuscan’s early art prefers!
No shade encroaching on the matchless mould
Of those two lips, which should be opening soft
In the pure profile; not as when she laughs,
For that spoils all: but rather as if aloft
Yon hyacinth, she loves so, leaned its staff’s
Burthen of honey-coloured buds to kiss
And capture ’twixt the lips apart for this.
Then her lithe neck, three fingers might surround,
How it should waver on the pale gold ground,
Up to the fruit-shaped, perfect chin it lifts!
I know, Correggio loves to mass, in rifts
Of heaven, his angel faces, orb on orb
Breaking its outline, burning shades absorb:
But these are only massed there, I should think,
Waiting to see some wonder momently
Grow out, stand full, fade slow against the sky
(That’s the pale ground you’d see this sweet face by)
All heaven, meanwhile, condensed into one eye
Which fears to lose the wonder, should it wink.


face 2
Face in the blue by Annabellerockz



The Face


There is a face I know too well,
A face I dread to see,
So vain it is, so eloquent
Of all futility.
It is a human face that hides
A monkey soul within,
That bangs about, that beats a gong,
That makes a horrid din.
Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
Athwart the human eyes,
And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
And utter social lies.
So wretched is this face, so vain,
So empty and forlorn,
You well may say that better far
This face had not been born.


Faces poster style by Annabellerockz


About Face

Alice Fulton1952

Because life’s too short to blush, I keep my blood tucked in.

I won’t be mortified by what I drive or the flaccid vivacity of my last dinner party.

I take my cue from statues posing only in their shoulder pads of snow:

all January you can see them working on their granite tans.

That I woke at an ungainly hour, stripped of the merchandise that clothed me, distilled to pure suchness, means not enough to anyone for me to confess.

I do not suffer from the excess of taste that spells embarrassment: mothers who find their kids unseemly in their condom earrings,

girls cringing to think they could be frumpish as their mothers.

Though the late nonerotic Elvis in his studded gut of jumpsuit made everybody squeamish,

I admit. Rule one: the King must not elicit pity.

Was the audience afraid of being tainted

–this might rub off on me

— or were they–surrendering–

–what a femme word–

–feeling solicitous–

glimpsing their fragility in his reversible purples.

and unwholesome goldish chains? At least embarrassment is not an imitation.

It’s intimacy for beginners, the orgasm no one cares to fake. I almost admire it.

I almost wrote despise.






Faces underwater by Annabellerockz


Meghan Burns





Face in different shade of  light by Annabellerockz


 Walth Whitman

Poem of Faces.

SAUNTERING the pavement or riding the
         country by-road, here then are faces!
Faces of friendship, precision, caution, suavity,
The spiritual prescient face—the always welcome,
         common, benevolent face,
The face of the singing of music—the grand faces
         of natural lawyers and judges, broad at the
The faces of hunters and fishers, bulged at the
         brows—the shaved blanched faces of ortho-
         dox citizens,
The pure, extravagant, yearning, questioning artist’s
The ugly face of some beautiful soul, the hand-
         some detested or despised face,
The sacred faces of infants, the illuminated face
         of the mother of many children,
The face of an amour, the face of veneration,
The face as of a dream, the face of an immobile
Faces with different expresions by annabellerockz


 Walth Whitman

Poem of Faces.


The face withdrawn of its good and bad, a cas-
         trated face,
A wild hawk, his wings clipped by the clipper,
A stallion that yielded at last to the thongs and
         knife of the gelder.
Sauntering the pavement or crossing the ceaseless
         ferry, here then are faces!
I see them, and complain not, and am content
         with all.
Do you suppose I could be content with all if I
         thought them their own finale?
This now is too lamentable a face for a man
Some abject louse asking leave to be, cringing
         for it,
Some milk-nosed maggot blessing what lets it
         wrig to its hole.
This face is a dog’s snout sniffing for garbage;
Snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant
This face is a haze more chill than the arctic sea,
Its sleepy and wobbling icebergs crunch as they
This is a face of bitter herbs, this an emetic, they
         need no label,


face 8
Faces in grey pattern by Annabellerockz


 Walth Whitman

Poem of Faces.

This is the face commanding and bearded, it asks
         no odds of the rest,
This face is flavoured fruit, ready for eating,
This face of a healthy honest boy is the programme
         of all good.
These faces bear testimony slumbering or awake,
They show their descent from the Master
Off the word I have spoken I except not one —
         red, white, black, all are deific,
In each house is the ovum, it comes forth after a
         thousand years.
Spots or cracks at the windows do not disturb
Tall and sufficient stand behind and make signs
         to me,
I read the promise and patiently wait.
This is a full-grown lily’s face,
She speaks to the limber-hipp’d man  near the gar-
         den pickets,
Come here, she blushingly cries—Come nigh to
         me, limber-hipp’d man and give me your finger
         and thumb,
Stand at my side till I lean as high as I can upon
face-annabellerockz 1
Face for posters & print on fabric by Annabellerockz


 Walth Whitman

Poem of Faces.

ill me with albescent honey, bend down to me,
Rub to me with your chafing beard, rub to my
breast and shoulders.

The old face of the mother of many children!
Whist! I am fully content.

Lulled and late is the smoke of the Sabbath
It hangs low over the rows of trees by the
It hangs thin by the sassafras, the wild-cherry,
and the cat-brier under them.

I saw the rich ladies in full dress at the soiree,
I heard what the singers were singing so long,
Heard who sprang in crimson youth from the
white froth and the water-blue.

Behold a woman!
She looks out from her quaker cap—her face is
clearer and more beautiful than the sky.

She sits in an arm-chair, under the shaded porch
of the farm-house,
The sun just shines on her old white head.

Her ample gown is of cream-hued linen ,

Page 308
View Page 308
Her grand-sons raised the flax, and her grand-
daughters spun it with the distaff and the

         you, http://www.whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1856/poems/27

face 1
Faces Golden dream by Annabellerockz




2 thoughts on “Faces

  • September 8, 2014 at 1:32 pm

    Wonderful faces … In different varietys and features .. Wonderful poems .. ANNABELLE rockz xxx


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