The sky staggers
in s
p
i
r
a
l
s of sleepless blue,
a celestial storm stitched from sapphire and sorrow,
where stars swell, simmering seeds of unstable light
trembling like thoughts too vast to be contained.
Above the village, night kneels in restless reverence.
Roofs rest in rigid resignation,
windows dim as quiet witnesses to cosmic unrest,
while the steeple stretches upward like a hesitant prayer
that never quite reaches its answer.
A cypress rises, black, brooding, blade-like
a funereal flame fixed in the soil of silence,
cutting through the composition like grief given form,
binding earth to the fevered heavens above.
The wind is unseen yet insinuated,
a wandering whisper weaving through the whorled sky,
stirring stars into spinning, shimmering syntax,
as though the night itself has lost grammatical control.
Nothing here is still.
Everything leans light lurches, darkness deepens, distance dissolves.
The world holds together on tension alone,
as though the painter captured not a landscape,
but the moment reality began to tremble.
Halloween night has a curious sky tonight
As if Van Gogh used his paint brush with all his might
It reminds me of his famous painting Starry night
Even the cat is staring at it. It is artistic all right!
Long ago in a fine art show,
I saw, in a wheat field, an old black crow.
I asked, "Where did Vincent van Gogh?"
The bird blinked and said, "He was Hell bent.
Some say he was Heaven sent.
Who knows where Vincent van Went?"
there's a distance I cannot escape
lines are drawn
maps know where they crease
exuberance adds flourish to the page
it leaves by my hand
and I let it go
in its place are hooks to the ground
no matter the sky's expanse
I'm too timid to do more than see
the risk of the revelation -
to be peripheral
just a vantage point
instead of someone who matters
in need of breeze
beyond the noise,
seconds slither
through veined currents,
smothering the light within,
as silence forgets
the syllables of stillness
turning the sky
into a sea of electric blue ~
waves carrying
the weight of quiet grief,
restless ripples
pushing...pulling...
toward the swirls
of love
etched beneath
the midnight sun…
and if tomorrow I f a d e
intrinsic ink phase,
remember me as the dusk
that defied
treacherous tremors of dark ~
I gathered sparks
from spiraling stars
as constellations
shattered and crashed
against shivering skin
within this sleepless home,
carving a sapphire silhouette
of solitude ~
a poet drowning
in a demented dream
in the heart of
an unnamed village,
no soul of dawn longed to see,
unaware of heaven
hidden beneath
brush-bruised strokes,
where only a
feeler’s eyes
could trace the
fine feathers
f l o a t i n g through
the finesse
of a forlorn life…
“His cheese slid off his crackers”
He’s hopelessly absolutely wackers
Like Vincent Van Gogh
His paintings were sold
Sanity nor vanity not a factor
To place one's spirit
In one's creations
If what, far more agonized
Reflects the Divine.
If what for inner turmoil
Intenser shows up
Through what moves in vivid swirls;
Out artist's hands. Thine.
As tormented as Vincent Van Gogh was…
there was also a lot of wisdom there…
He said: if you truly love nature…
you will find beauty everywhere..
And following his logic…in this season of Noel…
If we truly love Christmas and the holidays
We should be able to find love everywhere
and everyday…as well.
Quick and slow, pulsed to jibe and rudder
A late dancing, in the luminous waves
The boats angle to the cresting froth tops.
Sails arched, full burst into the brine
Air paces, vast to the horizon’s rim
The hazing glow, communion of sky to sea.
They bob and streak, the prow's steadfastness
Each sailor guides to the compass, knowing
The importance of destination.
Chases me down a paint-stained alley.
My feet are swollen—maybe someday they’ll rot
Exhausted from the brush stroke agony
I seize when the light forces itself upon me
When will I decide to turn myself into dust
Deranged is what I seem to be
They locked me in a rage-filled scene
Hearing petrified, hate-charged screams.
Peering through the curtains as I wake from restless sleep
Staring at a starry night
It sings me a melodic, stunning melody
Maybe the air that flows through my lungs
Perhaps the heart that pumps my blood
Is not what I truly need
Maybe a pistol will give me ultimate peace
Perhaps a bullet will allow me to foresee
As I lay near my brother
I don't sob, I don't plead
The life I lived wasn't for me
“The sadness will last forever”
It won't be cured by remedies
So I must cut short my legacy
The rope that strangled me with miseries
My death is not a tragedy
The moon speaks in phases
the sun a voice of lasers
every cloud a picture story --
write me a day, and I’ll paint
you a Starry Night.
I happen to take Art classes in oils. My teacher directed me to Van Gogh's Flores:
I am not sure what it's called. But I am very impressed with it's colors of yellow, maze and the swirls of a blue vase. It appears that the painting is all swirls. I can't imagine how it was done. But it presents itself as a plain and effortless painting.
As this is all new to me as a new Artist of oil painting, this will be a great challenge. Anything "Blue" is my favorite color.
The painting has brown in its background. I believe judging from the picture it was one of his best masterpieces.
I usually color with pencils, and have very little knowledge in coloring in oils. Again this will be challenging. However, I am going to love it.
One might ask what does this have to do with USPS Stamps? However, I believe the Post Office did select stamps from various Artists and a few were from Van Gogh's Flores: "The Sun Flower" and a picture of Van Gogh himself.
hiku van Gogh 2
borinage b r e a t h e s on
pot
a
t
O
eat
Ers
LIVE
here
paint
ed
~ E T E R N A L ~
haiku : van Gogh
sunflower souls speak
we hail our genius, true sight ~
lucid mind coloured
famous after death dutch painter van Gogh
vincent more often than not to nature did go
painted with cheap paints and shadows random
lived in poverty, painted as if chased by a phantom
cut off his ear, mentally ill, his art utterly ignored till
his death, now world famous for his great artistic skill
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