Edvard Poems - Poems about Edvard

The Scream Painting by Edvard Munch 1893

Turpentine waters of paranoia
  ripple beneath an opaque surface,
    merging with the burnt umber sun,
      ravenously setting
        over the savage distance.

Did the earth just crack open within its core...?

An ungovernable fear
 hastens—
    up my spine
 

naykid edvard''

.

                        "hi little birdie"
                     I heard thuh slight
    

edvard talks to himself

.

                              not
                    not whilst pneuma
  

peep'n Tom i mean edvard

.

               thump
                bang
                boom

       

endless edvard

.

             when 
            there's
           no more
            flowers

    

New Year's Edvard And Eve

.

               Locked
            mine duke
           theirn digits 
         your camisole

   

The Scream: Edvard Munch

fragility of reason ~ ululates upon brush strokes of despair

Ekphrasis of Edvard Munch's Bathing Man

Behold the bather astride the river,
resplendent in rainbow-dappled nudity
his sense of light and air and wetness
ebbs and flows like his emotions,
colors shift and swirl in response
to the universe of his creativity.

The Scream - Ekphrasis On An Edvard Munch Piece of Art

Oblong outlines of a soul
Stretched in elliptical misery
Redefines the perfect circle
To a breakable volatile tautness

Loosely cloaked in sheaths of epitonic blue
Draped upon the shrinking body to hide a terrified world 
Dressed in swirling ominous patterns of anonymity
To be lost within the deepest abyss of fatal fear

Planted like a tenuous girder of iron truth 
On a

Edvard Munch, Jealousy

Edvard Munch
 An Ekphrasis Stylized Poem of Jealousy 

Oh, ancient Oden!  
I summon your primitive hand.
Take this oiled brush I hold,
and order my strokes with your command.

With deep red, spilling like blood across the land,
she appears as the object of my affection,
nude and reaching toward a tree
as if to lure my enemy, with want

Self-Portrait With Cigarette By Edvard Munch

The snow falls white in Norway
just like anywhere else in the world.

The snow falls white in Norway
like the smoke from a cigarette.

The blue mists lap at coat tails
only in a self-portrait in Norway.

Pale brown eyes shine, surprised to see you
only in a self-portrait in Norway.

One hand holding time itself, slipping.
One hand held firmly in the

The Death of Merat

I leave the auction sick, my mettle frayed
A ghost, I fear, in oil clutched near my side
No doubt, a ghost for which I've dearly paid!
How best to next proceed, I must decide

The painting I have bought portrays a man
laid out upon a bed as if he sleeps
A woman stands beside the low divan
Offhand, I'd guess

Red House and Spruce By Edvard Munch

Red House and Spruce by Edvard Munch

Snug, in a blue bunting of hibernation,
Red cottage 
In a clearing of indigo and ice spruce 
That form ribs of protection from
From hues of ill winds, 
As a leafless birch backbone
Spreads a protective circle,
Sentinels of secrets 
Behind the hidden crimson door
When eventide’s crystal constellations 
Of fallen cerulean white snows
Sleep

Munch On This - 'Love and Pain' 1895

At first glance ...
Amid turbulent strokes
and vivid hues,
eyes mesmerized by
maiden's molten-red mane—
Love and Pain

Gently kissing
her lover's nape
in tender embrace,
while Pain's
lurking specter
overshadows their
intimate space,
threatening Love's
fragile grace

Second glance ...
Gent's deathlike pallor
portrays a chilling
alternative motif.
Is love really her goal, or
is she nosferatu feasting
on a submissive soul?
Dark eyes reflect the
lurking specter's desire—
Vampire

'separation' - the Art of Edvard Munch

When love is torn asunder and there is nothing left but dissent,
a lover's heart will be shattered, mortally wounded and rent.
In a relationship that was once held as sacred and eternal,
sorrow takes a heavy toll on the one left behind, and infernal
flames of grief scorch the lonely heart so that it must dwell,
suffering in what

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