20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


Vincent Van Gogh

Behind my chair at table Vincent sat…
well no, not Vincent, but his Bridge at Arles,
the painting that my parents bought, a pearl
of art. Our dining room wore Vincent’s hat

of blues and greens and yellows, peaceful feel.
A child, I didn’t really realize
how artists brushed their strokes into the skies.
I grew up with the Van Gogh color wheel.

The Langlois Bridge at Arles


1 Comment

Edgar and Vincent

The melancholy of sweet depression

like Poe and Vincent Van Gogh

those who were fraught with despair

have created haute cuisines

of flesh, of reds, of spleen

they’ve picked up their brushes, their pen and ink

their palettes exploded, fit to repair

splayed open wide

their vision, their loneliness and

the haunting beauty that possessed their minds

their art, wild and wanton

masterpieces of expression

born out of tongues that spoke with hysteria

and sights of historical blessings

that spoke about The Starry Night

of Annabel and The Raven’s delight

that spoke of shimmer, shiver and fright

of howling, wailing wicked light!

Vincent Van Gogh and

Edgar Allan Poe.

(I wrote this poetry as a tribute to both of these amazing artist’s. The above painting I did is of Michael Wolgemut, Vincent Van Gogh’s mentor and teacher; I painted him because I love Vincent Van Gogh and his work and was instantly attracted to his eyes, “the eyes are the window to the soul” as they say)

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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