Van Gogh
Here are three more poems from The Alma Elegies, all of them written after Vincent Van Gogh paintings. I originally wrote about 30 poems and kept 4--about average for me. Some day I may go back to the others and see if there's anything to salvage.
The reader is encouraged to find the original paintings. Really, there was no one like Van Gogh, and there never will be.
THREE POEMS AFTER VAN GOGH
I Potato Planting
In the early morning, the sky is sombre and grey,
and the earth, newly turned, seems a little startled.
A man, a woman and a bull--
all three are hitched to the plow.
The woman, bent nearly double, balances
on her clogs. There’s no room for joy here.
Her death was planted the moment she was born.
A long shadow follows the lines of the furrows.
II The Weaver
What’s the man doing on this crazy contraption?
Miles of thread are the roads he travels. He wears a conductor’s hat.
If it had wheels, the loom would seem natural
wandering the corn rows, the country lanes.
Then the man would feel the sky,
the tiny speck on the horizon,
the distances
moving between us.
III The Blossoming Almond Branch
You kept things around you that spoke
of your gentleness and your generous heart.
That small sprig of almond blossoms,
and behind it, one red brush stroke
thin as the line between the heart’s desire
and the sight of our own blood.
You knew that birth and death join hands
in every single living thing we love.
(Copyright 2006, Allan Cooper)
The reader is encouraged to find the original paintings. Really, there was no one like Van Gogh, and there never will be.
THREE POEMS AFTER VAN GOGH
I Potato Planting
In the early morning, the sky is sombre and grey,
and the earth, newly turned, seems a little startled.
A man, a woman and a bull--
all three are hitched to the plow.
The woman, bent nearly double, balances
on her clogs. There’s no room for joy here.
Her death was planted the moment she was born.
A long shadow follows the lines of the furrows.
II The Weaver
What’s the man doing on this crazy contraption?
Miles of thread are the roads he travels. He wears a conductor’s hat.
If it had wheels, the loom would seem natural
wandering the corn rows, the country lanes.
Then the man would feel the sky,
the tiny speck on the horizon,
the distances
moving between us.
III The Blossoming Almond Branch
You kept things around you that spoke
of your gentleness and your generous heart.
That small sprig of almond blossoms,
and behind it, one red brush stroke
thin as the line between the heart’s desire
and the sight of our own blood.
You knew that birth and death join hands
in every single living thing we love.
(Copyright 2006, Allan Cooper)
posted by Al Cooper at 4:02 PM
2 Comments:
Since you are interested in Vincent’s life and work, you might want to look at the Notes section on www.theeyesofvangogh.com. I am the writer and director of the new independent film on his life.
Thanks so much for your note. Van Gogh is a constant inspiration for me. I going through your web site and blog.
All the best.
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