Vincent

 

In dear Vincent’s eyes, golden sunflowers bloomed 

Exchanged Dutch smog for French vistas anew 

His artist life… was relatively short 

Yet legacy’s list… most certainly not

Transient hands… spoke in brushstrokes’ genius 

Captured life’s magic… more than appearance 

Seventy-five paintings… in eighty days 

Painted frantically… manic phases 

Began… completed in one clear gesture 

His paint, so thick... was almost a sculpture

Overpainted AND thought... in-depth., texture 

Vincent cut off his ear… when abandoned 

By artist housemate… whom his brother paid 

Or… so we’re told and the legend now states 

Vincent hoped this act would make Gauguin stay

Much like his death… questionable charade

Ironically employed… to keep safe 

From his antisocial, peculiar ways 

In yellow house, away from asylum 

His fragile mind… an unaligned diam

He’d drink too much... become hysterical 

His bright paintings, mood… antithetical

Painted his face which frightened his neighbours 

Auvers-sur-Oise… turned sadly disastrous 

What Vincent saw, others could not perceive  

His vibrant and vivid… reality

 

He painted in stark, otherworldly timbres 

Could Vincent see ultraviolet… linger? 

Meant only for eyes… of pollinators 

Intense, lucent luminous… depictions   

A monochrome world had never yet seen 

Such lurid and garish… natural scenes 

His paintings en rapture... all our senses

Some find his work to their eyes, offensive 

Vincent used his art as a therapy 

Deemed God as Nature… and it, as beauty 

Often sectioned… came voluntarily

Mind plagued by being… he found menacing 

In his lifetime, never sold a painting

Though belief in self... was unwavering

Was both religious and painting zealot 

Prophetic… as now his art’s worth millions 

A man whose artist’s flare... preceded time  

In starry night he, captured the divine

He tried life’s darkness... to ameliorate

Enabled through his art… heaven to taste 

Night sky’s cosmic movement, immortalised   

Glimpsed all eternity... through his deft eyes 

Perfection from man, considered insane 

A majestic mind, their doubts could not tame

Let’s bear this in mind… when too quick to judge 

Divergent-minds gift… what ‘normal’ cannot   

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry

A Cloth-bound Classic

To be a cloth-bound classic... oh what I wouldn’t give!

To be lusted after, coveted; when dutifully collected… I’d beguile

To make someone happy, feel special… when given as a gift

To adorn stately bookshelves… in far-flung countries around the globe 

To be stroked by wanton fingers; my tactile, foil-stamped…intricate, alluring design

To be thumbed through, perused and devoured diligently

My name in golden script, glistening… smiling proudly from the spine 

To be handed down from one generation to another 

I, a secret porthole to lives not yet met or lived

To be made up of passionate love affairs and glimpses of whole new worlds 

A tome steeped in culture and ancient myth... full of folklore, legends and mystical lives

A story delectably described in exquisite, poetic language 

A book so profound and emotive… it could make you cry!

A tale that illuminates all of life’s humble... simple blessings 

Channelled through deft senses… word-smithery, sensual and divine 

Depicting Nature’s stark wonders and magnificence 

Reveries and mysteries of the human heart… so complex and sublime 

Whispers of all the silent secrets, the oddities of the mind 

Life’s fragility and brutality, human tragedy… loss, pain and demise 

But most of all, I crave to be held… cradled, cherished and adored 

Snuggled down in bed with… or read, at the foot of a great tree 

For readers to lose themselves within me... at home or to be enjoyed beside the sea 

To be considered a revelation... a thing of ethereal beauty 

Without having to have a complexion, a reflection… or a skin-clad body

To carve out forever a small place of nostalgia… in people’s hearts and minds

To bring comfort and escapism to all the lonely… scared and shackled souls 

To set the sad and suffering… their imaginations alive, wild and free 

To wile away the reader’s precious time... to be a waking diaphanous daydream 

© Debbie Razey 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry.

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Moon Night, Sun Maiden

 

Oh, where, oh where, Love art thee now?

Beyond dark mirrored realm of night? 

Thou promised me thy love was true

Across, storm’s plains... to me wouldst ride 

Gallant knight ‘pon trusty steed 

Wilt thou bear lightning’s wrath ... for me?

Yet Father Time hath other plans 

He cares not... that I beseech him 

Fair son of moon and lunar climes 

With lupine charm and stardust eyes 

Oh how I wish thy gaze to hold 

My hand in thine neath cloudless skies

Thy raven locks, so wild and free 

My fingers wish, to run through thee

To welcome thee, to rest thy head 

‘pon butterfly, winged beat... silk breast

For where I breathe... thy solace make

Never again... need feel alone!

Alas my Love, tis but a dream   

Betwixt our hearts... stands Time’s cruel screen 

I try, hear voice in echoes wake

I shan’t thee Love... thy heart forsake 

Break through gilt sky-glass... sever wrists 

Rose-petalled drops... I’ll gift thee, Love  

My peace for thine... I’ll sacrifice

For thee my love I’d gladly die  

Time... stares at me “I'll lift thy curse

He's twelve short hours ‘till day unfurls

Moonflowers smile... you’ll cease to be!”

“Dear child of sun and golden hair 

If thou pledge life... pray he make haste?”

“I shall... I’ll sign my name in blood!” 

Brave moon knight, please keep safe, my Love 

I'll guide thee home... to me through dreams  

Ethereal sunburst… ‘pon night’s breeze 

© 2022 - Violet Moon Poetry - Debbie Razey