Tree roots & wheat fields
For Vincent. For anyone.
Gnarled and broken
Exposed over stones
Down the dirt embankment
Old tree roots
Searching for the safety
Of Earth
Of dirt
Beneath the ground
Grows life
Unbound by anything
So artificial as time.
It reaches out
Beyond the cramped
And broken thicket
To a wide and warm
Wheat field
Golden in the afternoon light
Above the ground
Grows life
This vast unfinished canvas
Eternally perfect imperfection
At last to find
A nice sunny spot within the wheat fields.
_
This poem was inspired by the last days and final paintings of Vincent Van Gogh in Auvers-sur-Oise. The tree roots and the wheat fields. Thanks to the channel Great Art Explained on YouTube.
About the Creator
Roderick Makim
Read one too many adventure stories as a child and decided I'd make that my life.
I grew up on a cattle station in the Australian Outback and decided to spend the rest of my life seeing the rest of the world.
For more: www.roderickmakim.com
Keep reading
More stories from Roderick Makim and writers in Poets and other communities.
Belle of the Bayou
Bad move, cher. Not just the slip of her kitten heel on the rainy February cobblestones in the Fourth Ward. She got caught snooping. Detective Deleon clucked and strutted like a rooster in his rush to clear her from the scene, waving cigar smoke to and fro as he gesticulated amid the thick air of the speak easy. An experienced crime reporter, Marie knew better than to let the coppers catch her on the wrong side of the line, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.
By Maia Gadwall the metAlchemist4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Goddamnit. That should be "warm and wide". Reads way better that way. Ah well, first draft and all that