Van Gogh
Trapped in agony’s abstract expression
Paralyzed sunrise
Green eyes surprised eternally
With the sameness of insane
Every day
Same on same
Allow this dawn to breathe
Smell real grass not splashed with oil
Scents of real soil
Warmth from sun’s embrace
Shade cooled by rolling hills
A place
Clocks tick
Faucets drip
Wheat waves at living skies
Never to fade from time
Not a trick of trade
But perspective
From soul
Allow this dawn to breathe

12 thoughts on “Please

  1. I like what you've done here. I'm not sure if this is the same wheatfield where van Gogh took his life, but it very well may be–he painted a great many of them. Your poem catches the taste of that unbearable pain of constant dichotomy that has to exist for someone to live in such darkness and create such clarity and beauty.

  2. He indeed did give a life to that particulat dawn & he did it in quite horrid circumstance. I look at Van Gogh's painting and feel the sadness, the hope & the wanting for a life of normality that unfortunately he never knew and I want to reach out to him and give him a hug. I imagine how lonely he must have felt!

  3. Dear Henry,Reading felt like walking through Vincent's mind… or another quite like it. The form and visual design work together with diction to create a complete scenario. So glad to visit here again!

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