Vincent Van Gogh Poems - Poems about Vincent Van Gogh

heart ~ a wild collage of gold-smeared skies pressed within oil-washed layers of breathing melancholy as leaves curled in cashmere greens trace condensed contours between ...

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When Vincent stumbled home that night through a drizzle of rain ~ what was going on inside that teeming, torturous brain? Did he blaspheme heaven with every profanity and curse? Or did he gaze in awe at the stars of his exploding universe, and try to make of their blue and yellow light a poultice for his pain?...

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Today I’m thankful for the stars and the words of Vincent Van Gogh (I hold these in high esteem) For my part I know nothing of any certainty but the sight of stars makes me dream. ...

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His life came to a ruinous end Plummeted into insanity The red-bearded painter With his self-hatred, despair and desperation for understanding He drank yellow paint thinking it would make him happy Locked up in a mental asylum that would shatter any person’s self-belief Deceived Vincent cut his earlobe in an unforeseen calamity But he channelled the awful torment into...

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In sunlit fields where olive trees grow, Vincent wandered, mind aglow. The blue of skies, a restless sea, Matched the turmoil he longed to free. The cypresses stood tall and proud, Dark green fingers, reaching the cloud. They whispered secrets to the breeze, Of madness, pain, and transient peace. Golden hues of wheat did dance, In the light’s eternal trance. A vivid orange, a burning...

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Dew drops grace green grasses Soothing like my pearly power shower I choose the right outfit for an orange day Under the fruit bowl by Vincent Van Gogh Breakfast bar stool welcomes hungry hips Honey dew melon kisses lips Pray meditate talk to God and myself Water plants feed perky pets sweep steps Thunderous thud at the French door Blue genes deliver...

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Misunderstood genius losing his eyesight, child's finger painting....

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an asylum's garden~irises full of life without tragedy...

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all is a whirl a swirl a curl - a wondrous whorl world entwined sublime...

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~ iris blue ~ initially purple ~ protanopia confuse ~...

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from beyond his vibrant palette that bore all his lifelong scars is what I see beneath his sky and myriad of stars a scene of shades and silhouettes formed by the yellow light that hints at The Last Supper at that café in the night?...

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I heard… he was higher than the starry sky he painted a genius’ stroke with a sable red brush dipped in white opium dust of pain hidden from the mirror’s occupant agony twisted darker than the starry canvas concealed behind glistening constellations of doubt to live or die the artist painted Vincent’s Sky I know… the piercing pain of abandoned nights allegations echoing the...

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Vincent was misunderstood as a child, but that was okay. He sat down with his ideas, and painted out his heart. He is so strange, some said, thinking he was insane or worse. A beautiful soul, he decided to reach them through his art. Never appreciated in a monetary way, during his lifetime, He painted his sadness onto canvases with...

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We visited a Vincent Van Gogh exhibit—he happens to be a favorite of ours—and as we stood mesmerized in the shade of his sunflowers and the shadow of stars I was struck by the pain, the suffering and the sorrow in this brilliant artist’s mind…and the joy he has given to others by the art...

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To Vincent... who will never know The love I feel and cannot show Of kaleidoscopes on linen snow To Vincent... shaded as a fool Whose isolation fractured rules With genius crowned delusional To Vincent... socially denied Whose brilliance is immortalized By majesty viewed through his eyes To Vincent... dubbed an albatross Who dwelled in dreams of splendor lost Whose vision held a fatal cost To Vincent... bathed...

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