Tribute To My Most Beloved Artist, Van Gogh
It was the night filled with the magic of tranquility, punctuated by the steeple of the village church;
All abodes have fallen asleep for there was only few flickering lamps lit like dimming stars;
Waving golden wheat fields now appeared as being painted deep dark blue.
Here and there are a few shrubs, mostly hedges around the houses of peasants can be distinguished
Against the distant hilly background,
Which appears to be smoothed out by the artist's brush strokes.
One tall evergreen tree is trying to reach heaven with all its stretch and might;
For the sky is filled with turbulent movements of stale air circulating around all brilliant stars.
Night clouds are going nowhere, just floating shaped in greyish curls like ghosts
Who are still haunting in the lonely homeless artist's soul,
Who lies down to rest under the pillow made out of rock,
thinking what his life would be like if he was born into the distant stars.
Then suddenly back to reality, he screams in pain,
Stars of heaven now you just all descend in my exploded head!
Oh, the great pain in my head!
Take me away, my companion pain
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Tribute To My Most Beloved Artist, Van Gogh by Don Nguyen )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1644 - 1694)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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