I
These sunflower dreams
Clipped and cut out of the garden
Arranged and rearranged
On the plain table
Whisper like voices
Speaking of love, hope, pain, death,
Faces of eyes
Staring and staring
Across the endlessness of time
And the unarticulated colors
Bleeding within.
II
Painting green cobblestones,
Red tables and chairs,
Becomes the faceless figures
And yellow windows
Of the sidewalk café
At midnight.
Those farmers and shopkeepers
Finish their drinks.
Never ask:
"What is he doing, there?"
III
Late August. I stand in fields
Of golden, sunlit corn
Stretching out of sight,
Uncounted ears
Ready for harvest.
But then, the crows are coming.
Soundless. Black.
IV
Alone at last, you stand still
As cypress trees
In the moonlight,
Savoring the moment.
Open air, darkness,
Immeasurable distance;
The curves of mountains
And a sky strewn with stars.
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Author Notes
The four paintings articulated here are of course: Sunflowers, The sidewalk café at midnight, Crows in the cornfield, and Starry night. I wanted to dig into the feelings born of Van Gogh's masterful expressionism; the pain and depression of the mental illness that haunted him; the loneliness that is at the root of the artist's observance of the life around him; the moments of despair, of shattered dreams; and the hope of and promise of the eternal, the transformational quality of acceptance of one's place in nature. Hopefully I did his amazing work some justice. estory
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