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Poofle's Poofy Poetry-not-Prose
UHHH. :insane: Excuse the name, I'm in a bit of a HYPERRRR mood now. SO WELCOME TO MY POETRY PAGE HARLOOOO <333 I have a fictionpress account but I don't have many reviews and I'm basically this crazy hyper poofy person who's going to be 15 in 4 days and loves writing but only does it sporadically and oh did I mention I also like to ramble and sometimes abuse punctuation in the lack of doing so OKAY STOP I AM GOING TO POST NOW. =3
Vincent overcome with emotion, he picked up the paintbrush and scrawled out his life in pure colour red, yellow, blue: the primary ones how he’d been rejected always and how it felt so terrible to know you were not wanted not in this world or the other how his calling to paint had driven his life force, but he longed for the love he had tried twice and failed to receive how he’d done this before over nine hundred whole times, really painting and painting in quick strokes furiously wearing his life-thread out how he had once had friends who actually accepted him until he let his emotions take over he hurt them without a thought he put it down the solitary paintbrush that made his painting complete he pointed the gun at his head afternote-thingy: I did this poem at the very start of last year, just after researching on Vincent Van Gogh for an art project. I kinda became very amazed by his life story and stuff and got into that writey mood of mine and so this is the product. Not much thought was put into this... I had muse that day so I just did what felt... right? :XD my parents a million secrets left untold some of them new, some others old he looks at her with fiery eyes forgetting all their marriage ties. she stares back up in desperate fear hoping he, her husband dear would snap out of this evil trance and give their promised love a chance. their eyes meet fiercely, awkwardly for her, and for him angrily whispered lies, a million years of deceit, loveless faith and tears. once, long ago, they had ignored their star-crossed fate as they adored each other so much, he agreed they would be wed for love, not greed. but now all this has vanished, gone into the soft hues of the morn no more she cries when dealt his blow no more does he pretend to know. as light falls over the wide sky without a word, without a cry she clutches her face, now deep red he walks off- hits himself instead. afternote-thingy: I'm not usually a person for rhyme, mainly because I think words sound kinda forced when rhymed sometimes @[email protected] I'm not that sure about this poem, but I kinda wrote it last year in a state of horrible angst when I'd just finished hearing my parents yelling at each other. |
I rather like the idea of writing a poem about Van Gogh. It gives you plenty of wonderful images and allusions to weave into the piece. However, I believe, in order to truly do this tribute justice, you're going to need to explore this a bit more. Van Gogh showed himself, his life, his passions, his sorrows, etc. through his paintings rather than speaking them aloud, and so too must you strive to create what you have done here with images rather than merely recounting his life or his loneliness. Make the reader feel and understand his life rather than laying it out. For the breaking with good friends use more violent, rending words. For his all consuming passions, that driving force that wore him down, use stronger words, charged words, etc.
Will comment on the other poem when I have more time (if you would like me to). |
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