Thoughts of Vincent

Tomorrow, we will go to the Clark Museum to see the special exhibit they have on Van Gogh and Nature.  I am so excited! Vincent has long been my favorite painter of all time.  His Starry Night (pictured above) is "my" picture!  When I was little, I truly thought he had painted it for me.

At the beginning of this year, I picked the word "light" to meditate upon and use as a creative prompt.  When I think of Vincent's paintings, I think of his use of light and dark.  I haven't seen one in which he hasn't played with both the brilliant, bright colors along with the dark, and sometimes, broody ones. Vincent knew how to paint "light."

Over the years, I have honored my favorite artist with a poem or two.  Here, in celebration of seeing his work, in celebration of Light and Dark, in celebration of Vincent Van Gogh, are my poems.

Vincent’s Sky 
In a life, long before now, 
you painted swirling lines of fire, 
scattered across a landscape 
of purple and blue. 
Your palate alive with opposites - 
 Your brush creating words 
only the heart could read. 
Gifted master of untouched space, 
did you journey into the void 
 in order to bring me this canvas 
filled with waking dreams – 
 filled with illusory hopes - 
filled with the nomadic contemplations 
of a mind whirling into illusion? 
 © Linda M. Neas 2014 


I was just a girl 
when first we met.
Your blazing Sunflower mornings 
and Starry, Starry Nights 
filled my imagination… 

You took me far 
from the brick and pavement 
of the city… 
You opened the door 
to dreams. 

I was just grown 
when first I stood 
deep within the Olive Groves. 
Quiet conversations 
on the Terrace Café at Night… 
wind swept mountains and 
winding paths led me home… 
to you. 

© Linda M. Neas 1996 


Your work forms 
a kaleidoscope of emotions… 
Sunflower joy 
illuminates the soul, 
alone, like a white iris 
in a sea of blue, 
You stand… 
the sweetness of your soul 
hidden by the masses. 
The beauty of your touch 
fills blank space 
with whirling stars of light… 
winding through the groves of humanity, 
You capture images of light and dark, 
space and form, 
only to free them 
on canvases of perpetual vision. 

© Linda M. Neas 2000 


If you hear a voice within you say 'you cannot paint,' 
then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced. 
~ Vincent Van Gogh 

It all started in childhood, 
 as innocence melted to shame, 
that little voice of complaint.
"Why can't you be good?" 

By the time the angst of teen years 
 came roaring in on a wave of hormones, 
the voice had become a shout. 

"You Can't Do Anything Right!" 

As adulthood settled in 
 along with serious responsibility, 
 the voice was a raging roar. 


reading the words Vincent wrote, 
the light of self-recognition 
filled the darkness of doubt and self-loathing, 
opening windows and doors long forgotten. 

Words came tumbling out, 
at first in a frenzy, 
but eventually, in patterns 
that could be shared - 
 patterns that made sense - 
patterns that said, 
"You're a writer! Good for you!" 

© Linda M. Neas 2011


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