Eyes Of Van Gogh
“Starry Night” a painting of the stars
Seen as whirling spirals by Van Gogh
“He’s mad” decried would be avatars
He saw so much more than afterglow
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Starry Night
That does not keep me from having a terrible need of — shall I say the word — religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars. — Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Sunflowers After Sex.
After the sex she stood
In front of the Van Gogh
Painting and gazed. Never
Saw that last night, she said.
It was dark, Max replied.
She touched the painting
With her fingers. Why have
A painting of flowers when
You can go out and buy some?
She asked. They last longer this
Way, he replied. So did you
Paint this? She asked in a state
Of semi undress, her eyes sleepy,
Her hair in a mess. No, Van Gogh
Did, he replied. Is he a friend of
Yours? She asked rubbing her breasts.
He sighed and shook his head. No,
Van Gogh painted that many years
Ago, now he’s dead. It’s a bit yellow,
She said, looking at the painting
Closer, what are those yellow flowers
Supposed to be? Sunflowers, he said,
They’re big flowers; people grow them
For real. She raised her eyebrows and
Pulled a face. What about that drink?
She asked. Sure, Max replied pouring
Her gin in a tall glass. She took, sipped
And winked an eye. What about more
Sex? She sighed. Sure, Max, looking at
Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, boringly replied.
poem by Terry Collett
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If I could make the big orange sun
If I could make the big orange sun
hang forever
over the horizon
and the magic colours
that is light yellow, golden
and goes from orange to red
touch some clouds
and could also get
the blue of the sky,
it would have been
a beautiful painting
and I would want it like
Vincent van Gogh’s
starry night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Lust for Perfection! ! ! ! ! !
Enraptured by the mystic starry sky
Vincent so desperately wanted to try,
To paint this enchanting twilight scene,
But how, Colours in that light couldn’t be seen.
He longed to paint on the spot at night,
What he saw, as he saw without artificial light.
‘Night is more richly coloured than day
Putting little white dots on a black surface, no way'
Struck by brilliance of stars on closer attention
And his zest and lust and passion for perfection,
A legend goes in rural areas of south of France,
He put candles in the felt hat to capture and paint.
Thus the locals gave him a name, illumine
French word meaning lit up and delusive.
Couldn’t care less, night to be painted on the spot
Settled for a gas jet after pondering a lot
The painting depicts a religious motif of youth.
To assuage his thirst for the Absolute
‘I just paint nature as it seems to me, complete
All we have to do is unravel the mystery…’
A tribute to Vincent Van Gogh, Impressionist painter, best known for Sun Flowers.
Starry Night is a fascinating work, as is his passion.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Why Is Repin Painting Monet?
why is repin
painting monet
why is not repin
painting repin
or why is not monet
painting monet
or they're just
making a team
in this day
very sunny day
in the south
south of beauty
oh beauty
beauty named france
france of that field
the sunflower field
oh making
making for a painting
a painting for price
a price for bread
bread for respect
respect for van gogh
van gogh for a day
a day for painting
painting for words
words for us
and us for them
and them are only
only and just
just se7en words
'we all are brothers
brothers
in love'
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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Sitting by bonfire! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Sitting by bonfire…
Sitting on a December night by the bonfire
Glanced up and saw stars sparkle like sapphires.
Sparks were rising up like glow worms; why
At that moment flashed across my mind’s eye
Vincent Van Gogh’s famous painting ‘Starry Night’.
How restless he felt about getting it somehow right.
Silently contemplating nature with a painter’s eye,
He felt compelled and determined to give it a try.
The thought for long haunted and preoccupied his mind.
To the mystery and essence of night, in spirit aligned.
Finally he decided to paint it on the spot by the river at night.
Excited to paint under the moon, stars, a little artificial light.
Lo, what you see is a painting of night not dark or black.
Done with beautiful blue, violet, and green to illuminate.
He singled out colours that would express what he felt.
Blend of serenity and dizziness and what to him it meant.
Thus he was able to attain the mystic dream of youth.
Through painting to assuage his thirst for the truth.
It became an act of faith, in a state of meditation.
I reflected, is art an effective path for salvation…
What leads to this slow and sure transformation of man,
Into an artist, musician and a poet- is it Creator’s plan...
Does the intensity, seclusion lead some to brink of insanity.
As I had in my teens read his tragic and sad biography.
Do we live in chains and prisons of our own making?
Does it have to do with events beyond control; destiny?
Aware of his fractured psyche, calmly told his brother Theo;
One lesson I have learnt is not ever to complain for sure.
My eyes drifted to dying ambers, just when my son asked me;
Would you like me to add more logs; came out of my reverie.
We walked on the gravel path towards the lodge in silence.
He said Mom; should spend more time in Sunshine, with nonchalance...
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Starry Night
When the night falls in your small room
Nothing seen but the dark and the air becomes chill
Everybody has turned asleep
Leaving the blue mountain bored and lonely
Look at your window, the moon calls
There is stars bloom in the dark sky
Giving a hazy sight of the imaginary city
The tall tree is now awaking
When the cold rigid line blurred into waving hands ready to dance
And city lights accompany you to sing a long the midnight
Even the scary darkness drunken in the party
Marching the clouds around the stars and moon
Inspired by Starry Night, Vincent van Gogh
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Art Encompassed
Michelangelo carved poetry
into purest marble
painted it across ceiling
of adorned Sistine Chapel.
Leonardo Da Vinci
cunningly imprisoned it
within magnetic eyes
of portrait Mona Lisa.
Vincent Van Gogh ground pigment
mixed fresco artistic paint
then splashed poetry upon heaven’s
eternal Starry Starry Night.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Afterglow
Afterglow
Yesterday night, I looked up to the sky,
Carefully examining a pale speckling
Of stars. Dusky splotches soon covered my
Vision, leaving a verdigris ceiling.
I waited for the constellations to
Appear, cluttering what was beclouded—
Embellishing the unseen in bright hues—
Yet, still, the sky had remained enshrouded.
Each ancient star hid behind its shadow,
And the suffusive cloak of circumstance—
In shades not adorned by the afterglow;
Rather, by shades of suggestive desistance.
It was as if this veil had insisted
The sky as it was never existed.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Romantic Dance
Romance a hopeful lover’s dance
A night of music, flowers, magic
Whirling about, while in a trance
Indeed a blissful time…fantastic!
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Van Gogh Ceilings
The colors of our nights
flow in different hues
blood reds on the satin sheets
deep dark blues of gentle breathing
candle light soothing;
the smells of body scents
and perfume;
August's most heated nights
the sweep of enfolding arms
the over head fan twirls
over gentle writhings
healing tremblings
as we two
spin away into
Perfection's Consumated Dream
where breathless love mates
with sensual overwhelmng
sighs seductive breathings
making it oh so clear
why
we humans were placed here
to make love and children
in the colors of our night
hot pinks
ravishing reds
and deep blues.
I look into your eyes
reflecting back to me
the nights perfection
come real
and if never again
to be seen
this time alone would be enough
to paint Van Gogh
colors and stars
on our bed room ceiling
forever
on this
Starry Starry Night
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Van Gogh Nights
The colors of our nights
flow in different hues
blood reds on the satin sheets
deep dark blues of gentle breathing
candle light soothing;
the smells of body scents
and perfume;
August's most heated nights
the sweep of enfolding arms
the over head fan twirls
over gentle writhings
healing tremblings
as we two
spin away into
Perfection's Consumated Dream
where breathless love mates
with sensual overwhelmng
sighs seductive breathings
making it oh so clear
why
we humans were placed here
to make love and children
in the colors of our night
hot pinks
ravishing reds
and deep blues.
I look into your eyes
reflecting back to me
the nights perfection
come real
and if never again
to be seen
this time alone would be enough
to paint Van Gogh
colors and stars
on our bed room ceiling
forever
on this
Starry Starry Night
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afterglow
She's been drifting for too long now
But now her ship's come in
He'd been running from the shadows
Now sunlight floods within
There's something new inside
First time to realise
Afterglow
Afterglow
He built his fortress so high
With walls of past mistakes
But now he leaves it burning
Purged from regret's heartbreak
There's something new inside
First time to realise
New light behind those eyes
First time to realise
Afterglow
Afterglow
Afterglow
Afterglow
I've been drifting for too long now
But now my ship's come in
I've been running from the shadows
Now sunlight floods within
song performed by by Quench
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Let my thoughts come to you, when I am gone, like the afterglow of sunset at the margin of starry silence.
aphorism by Rabindranath Tagore from Stray Birds (1916), translated by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gazing At Sunflowers
Your first wife’s friend
came in with her
for a coffee and chat
and you were sitting
on the sofa
with the sleeping cat
and she looked
at the Van Gogh print
of sunflowers
over the mantelpiece
above the open fire
did you paint that?
the friend asked
staring at it
through John Lennon
type glasses
no you said
it’s a Van Gogh print
oh she said
peering closer
I do like flowers don’t you?
Yeah you replied
sunflowers have a way
when Van Gogh
pushes them through
and she stood in silence
taking in the print
and flowers
and colours
and you noticed
she had a run
in her stockings
from the back
of her knee
to where
her thigh disappeared
beneath her drab dress
and your first wife
came in and said
oh you’re not looking
at that painting are you?
He knows all about
those arty types
with their odd ways
and weird eyes
and her friend said
turning round
scratching her ass
I know nothing
of art and such
it’s way out
of my class.
poem by Terry Collett
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Stars in the dark night
Stars in the dark night, look like angels playing in the sky,
they twinkle and give light
radiant and bright bring life to,
silent sleepy night,
there aura fill the sky with long lasting grace,
whole night stars in sky are not tired of filling,
empty night with their glow taking away the lovers sighs,
stars twinkle never fades like blessing of god given to us,
for living life, their might changes the lonely night into maiden,
beautiful and filled with starry feeling in the eyes..
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Painting is a faith, and it imposes the duty to disregard public opinion.
quote by Vincent Van Gogh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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STANDING vs. SITTING
When nature calls me in the night
I would be lying, and be remiss;
So as to avoid a wet n’ messy miss
Sometimes I sit down to take a piss
Go ahead n’ laugh it’s quite alright
I won’t think you impolite…
ROTMS
Read latest writings by ROTMS at
http: //rotms.blogspot.com/
poem by Ray Lucero
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Vincent
starry starry night
paint your palette blue and gray
look out on a summer's day
with eyes that know the darkness in my soul
shadows on the hill
sketch the trees and daffodils
catch the breeze and the winter chills
in colors on the snowy linen land
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
and how you suffered you sanity
and how you tried to set them free
they would not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
flaming flowers that brightly blaze
swirling clouds in violet haze
reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue
colors changing hue
morning fields of amber grain
weathered faces lined in pain
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand
now i understand
what you tried to say to me
they did not listen they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now
starry starry night
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Starry, Starry Skies
Starry, starry skies
that fill my searching eyes
so distant and so far from me
and yet I feel so close to thee.
Each one that twinkles in the night
brings to me sweet heaven's light.
Oh that I could travel far
and finally touch one shiny star
But I can only stop and stare
and wonder how and why and where.
Wondering, never knowing
how it is you're always glowing
My
Starry, starry skies.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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