Long Wheatfield Poems

*last winter break*

I woke up abruptly, my chest gripped and tight. My face felt hot but my arms stung as if frostbitten. I gasped for air that wouldn’t come, as if I had a plastic...

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Decades of art, and some as oil paintings, 
whereat, had most work made in just the last two years.
Persuades the heart, of similar taste, seems,
fair that, Van Gogh's work may be the best than of...

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A child was born, suffering “excess de zele” behavior
Depression and schizophrenia were his all time plague.
First actions of adult life expressed his love for the Savior.
His passion for humanity and God were never vague.
With the...

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Decades of a formula that only he knew about it and drew,
Cascades of his artwork came to a head in his last years,
Glissades of a swan in a lake that only a handful had seen,
Tirades...

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PART 1-- VINCENT DIED JULY 29                             ...

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This sacred soil that once resounded with the musket's rattle,
Imbued with mingled blood of Blue and Gray spilt in brutal battle,
Now stands serene with only whisperings of the restless ghosts,
Of gallant men who sacrificed their...

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I look down upon the fields of grain,
	That are now sands in time,
		And I realize how could I be so blind,
			With my own life?

Instead of letting it grow,
	And be a beautiful wheatfield for so many,
		I...

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(Metrical form of writing worthily represented here in this poem composed by Giorgio Venetopoulos, had remained unpublished.)


The maiden's form diffuses neath the rain
and beautiful she steps around the sage
The mists embrace her dream on this...

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effervescent swirling clouds
in turquoise summer skies
float like flocks of fair sheeps
in far away exuberant fields

beneath are cyclopean cypresses
touching celestial bosom
in deep periwinkle and corn flower
whilst  wheat fields
are golden fleece
waltzing with the west wind

oh, how...

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old tracks
 to
      the water edge
  a
    thatched cottage
a river a harbour a boat

with
    woman&child
a beach a village a park

'neath lilac
  ...

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A sower plants good seeds.
Whilst sleeping, an enemy cometh in the night and plants weeds amongst the good seeds.
When the wheat sprouted and formed a healthy yield, the weeds began to form as well.
The servants...

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I watch with interest
as crows glide over a wheat field.
Such a fine sight under simmering sun.
Smiling at the occasional poppy
blazing red, such a contrast.
There is not one cornflower this year,
cannot help wondering why?
If I could...

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a collection of poems of an image l witnessed in Kenya, after the rains.                     ...

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the road travelled like a momentous mountain,
the end game on its peak of distant shores.
a matrix of bubblegum ready to drop with coins
or a complex crazy quilt with lazy and diligent dyes.

a wheatfield that traverses...

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The country road split the wheat field in half
A murder of crows seemed to prefer the right
Hope they leave some to winnow from the chaff
Crows seem but wavey lines against the night
A spectacular sight in...

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Inspired by another poet sharing a picture of Van Gogh's Wheatfield with Crows

I paint with fierce brush strokes
Depicting crow and sheaf
Hoping to rekindle, hoping to cope
I can't paint away the sense of grief
Paint the path...

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You painted the wheatfield,
  In a fashionable way.
You gave us a sense of wonder,
  The lovely skies of your days.

Your mesmerizing sunflowers,
  Give us the study of delight.
You presented movement,
  When...

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