Van Gogh

I have just watched Loving Vincent and feel so incredibly moved. What an incredible man, what a tortured soul. And now I feel drawn to playing Jimi Hendrix. Here is a poem I wrote when I visited Amsterdam and his musesum last year, because it feels right.

The artist is a wizard
The paint brush his wand
Through a charmed eye
He takes the world in
As if she has shown him
Another level, of him
Clearly fond

With his wand the artist translates
The fabric of nature
On to his canvas
So life like
At times he appears
To have used
A photographic plate

These are his tools
His magic is to capture
The essence of life
The flow of movement
His works inanimate but vital
Still but active
With this world in such attunement

As Plato said
The artist can see the beauty
Where others can’t
This one’s eyes
Filled
From the ground
To the skies

It seems hard to imagine a view
That from these eyes to convas
Would not astound

Dave James Horn ©

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