Edvard Munch Poems - Poems about Edvard Munch

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 ...

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fragility of reason ~ ululates upon brush strokes of despair...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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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At twilight time, a man surrounded by some colors yellow and an orange red which seem to swirl above him in the sky stands on a bridge with both hands on his head as if he wants to cover up his ears. This scene depicts a vision of this man who lived with such anxiety and fears. Oh what could even be...

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THE SICK CHILD-EDVARD MUNCH Ghostly downpour upon not the sick, but the sick at heart - a child’s mother. Bittersweet tangle of red - patient’s hair, dresser, caretaker’s hands. Bedside manner, sorrowful to the point of death, but the woman is not literally dying, her daughter is. Steadfast bravery warm blanket hue of hunter-green, orange and blue. The girl’s mother already draped in a dreary...

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the unheard-of starry night subdued in colors no bright swirls no blaze of fire but a mist of mysterious night reflected stars in flight textured strokes dark land uncertain shapes essence of the night broken by dots of white broken by line of fence fence broken by a shadow who could it be? who goes there in the night that can’t be right a trick of the eye no not here the unheard-of starry night...

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Inspired by “The Sick Child” painting by Edvard Munch A pale face, all happiness drained out! green and auburn lines - vertical and horizontal, swirl around her in abundance, except her face... devoid of any colour! A drooping dried flower almost ready to fall, return to...

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The tapestry of the indigo sky, weaved with the strips of silver cloud, merges with the still sea in the blues. The dislodged boulders strewn as dry debris, away from the waterfront of desire, symbolize my broken dreams. The anchorless empty boat drifts away from the shore of longing. I feel connected with its desolation for being away from the home you...

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Who have I painted this for This reflection of my core My introspection wonders back An injection of epiphany It drifts from me like smoke Suddenly aware I see Nothing that looks like clarity In the shadows I am pondering A stillness caught by candlelight If I stop watching you paint me Will myself in frame then cease to be The quiet trickles down like falling...

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