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Bryan

Bryan

Model: OpenArt SDXL

Prompt:

a medieval painting set in the 16th century. a prussian mercenary wanders through the wartorn fields. he is downcast and heavy with sadness. a tree of hanging bandits stands.
Width: 1024
Height: 1024
Scale: 7
Steps: 25
Seed: 924275051
Sampler: DPM++ 2M SDE Karras

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Prompt: President Andrew Jackson running away
Prompt: FELL BURGUNDY IRIS or MOSES CLEAVELAND'S CANTERBURY TALES, page 5

This is the only view I have of the illustration for this page, as it was stolen before it could be completed on August 12 of 2023
https://www.facebook.com/100092702344390/videos/685823726738996/?mibextid=NnVzG8

"Of finer fashioned lies, remember
Ought is nought since last December
Stay the hand in bitter frost
Blight the band, whatever cost!

Resume the cant, forgotten bounds
Evade the bite of toothless hounds
Of clay you will forever be
And mine to make as I would see.

A feather fair, to fall away
Of God's, to whom the hopeless pray?
Fear endeared and fool's caress
Like dust, the righteous do digress.

The dashing dimples fall away
The bitter scowl is here to stay
Of better days, forever passed
To do, for want of beauty, last?

Remember?  NEVER!  Nor with sight
As toothless hounds evade the bite
What looks are now forever lost
Forgotten face to pay the cost?

Break the back of toothless hounds
Upon which Fate forever frowns
Grace the path the wretched crawl
Ever at one's beckon call.

Numbness nears, forever cast
No face to mouth forgotten past
No lips to move a helpless plea
No screams to hear are there to be!

What toothless hound's eternal bray
Whelps, on whom the maggots prey?
E'er to chase their absent bite
Ne'er to face eternal night?

#art #poem #fairytale #love #stippleart #stippleshading #poetryofinstagram #satire #beautifulmorning #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #poetrylovers 

'Auntey's Monody' I originally wrote in two parts, back around Sept 10th and 11th of 2001, and the thing you have to remember about the IRA is that they supported Hitler during WWII, and they're supporting Iran, now...
Be safe and Blessed Be!
Prompt: a 19th century painting of an american boy standing on a hill at sunset and gazing over a civil war battlefield. there is smoke in the air. yankees are charging towards the sunset at confederates. there are canons and wounded soldiers lying in the mud. there is a church in the distance and rubble.
Prompt: Volodymyr Zelensky riding George Washingtons' horse, sword in hand, and Ukraine Flag visible in  the 18th-century style
Prompt: king Phillip the fair of France 1307 ad , hunting in the woods on horseback with knights templar hiding in the background
Prompt: Under a spreading chestnut-tree
     ⁠The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
     With large and sinewy hands,
And the muscles of his brawny arms
     Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long;
     His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
     He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
     For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
     You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
     With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
     When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
     Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
     And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
     Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

He goes on Sunday to the church,
     And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
     He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,
     And it makes his heart rejoice.

It sounds to him like her mother's voice
     Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
     How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
     A tear out of his eyes.

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing,
     Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
     Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
     Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
     For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
     Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
     Each burning deed and thought.

The Village Blacksmith (1842)
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
1807 – 1882
<mymodel>
Prompt:
Prompt: styles LUDVIG JACOBSEN Create an impressionistic scene depicting the fight of the gaunt, gaunt Don Quixote and his skinny horse with windmills on a windswept plain with the ruins of the defeated windmills in the background
Prompt: A mounted warrior in a vast lonely landscape and illustrated in the style of Keith Parkinson <mymodel>
Prompt: a medieval painting set in the 16th century. a strong, white-haired polish mercenary stands posed with one silver sword, in his hand, pointed down. he wears a wolf medallion. in the background is a desolate peasant countryside with barren fields and withered trees. soldiers in black armor march.