Our Very Own Van Gogh by Tebo Ndlovu
With complete abandon,
He loved to talk about
His latest
'masterpiece'
Raising high his hopes
for
That one that will
catch the king's eye.
But the king
- his Majesty's eyes
stayed occupied
When the young lad
Came knocking at the
palace gate
And so would begin the
journey back home
On which was the
carpenter's son:
Swinging the window
agape
Joked "Come back
tomorrow!"
And the merchant's
daughter
Giggling due to the
strange imagery
The product of the
artist's brush strokes.
It made him angry and
happy
When they turned up
their noses
Because he felt in
pictures
And would set to work
Painting his feelings
Laying out a
maybe-magnum opus.
One night the snow
Fell too hard
Our 'van Gogh'
journeying
From the carpenter's
cottage.
They found him the
next morning;
The chill of the
blizzard
Had reached into his
bones
And history states
He dropped to the
white dirt
Frozen solid,
face-down
We gathered
All through that week
Weeping, celebrating,
reflecting
He perished trying
Our van Gogh
Never did shred a
painting
Hurl a tantrum
Or shorten his own
life.
The merchant's wife
Purchased the first
painting
Only within four
fortnights
The queen another
The village beauty yet
another
And the carpenter's
son?
His father carved an
easel
Ornate and new under
the sun
In honor of our fallen
hero
We bestowed upon him a
high honor:
Inscribed 'our van
Gogh'
On the gray tombstone
Bid farewell
To our definition of
the fairer version
Of the real supernova.
Poem is a Copyright © 2013 of Tebogo Ndlovu. Tebogo is a global citizen hailing from Zimbabwe and a never ending source of inspiration to me, and has scaled heights in the field of writing and has won accolades for her outstanding strength of character. She is currently based in Georgia, Atlanta in the United States of America making strides in her studies in Engineering.
