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H.B. Berlow

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Member Since: Jan, 2012

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Van Gogh Stares Into The Sun
by H.B. Berlow
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by H.B. Berlow
•  from Ornithology
           >> View all 3

The pain and potential madness of being an artist.

It is not yellow.

It is not orange.

It is not even the burnt red

of abraded fingers, calloused

and numb.

It is every ray and tint that

gazes intently at it.

It is my scruffed beard

and scarred eyes.

It is I.


What I lose of sight

I gain in vision.

If rationale scrambles,

then art aligns.


Passion is the object of my desire

when the sun first rises

over the sunflower fields;

when it sets

drawing the curtain of night.


I contemplate the infinite

by means of the infinitesimal,

the forgotten pieces of the puzzle.


Staring into the jaws of a raging leviathan,

I accept melancholy, madness, death,

for no man can gaze upon the sun

and come away unscathed.

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Reviewed by Erin Kelly-Moen 1/19/2012
Love the title and the piece is scarey and somehow calm at the same time, HB. A magnificent write which I enjoyed immensely, and empathize with your words of madness and sorrow portraying Van Gogh's world of vision and talent.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
Reviewed by jude forese 1/18/2012
indeed, the travails of the artistic mind ...
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 1/18/2012
A penetrating view of the nature of the man. Whether it is true or not, doesn't matter. Like fine art, it is the perception of the viewer that matters. And in this case the view is exceptional.

Reviewed by Ruan Mills Burke 1/18/2012
Van Gogh would be bowled over with this. It has a classical air and traditional quality but carries a very current flavour too.

Reviewed by RWE SAYS BYE 1/18/2012
I think Van Gogh himself would be pleased with this impressive poem! Shades of Blake in "I contemplate the infinite by means of the infinitesemal" and I might say "unseen" instead of "forgotten" but the latter adds an air of mystique to this impressive poem. Wonderful work, Mr. Berlow.


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