As Vincent Wanted It

Awed by the Impressionists of Paris, a kind soul with a gift from God to share

They called him Christ of the Coal Miners, though he was doomed in himself

Not knowing how much he could share with the world, unappreciated at the time

His life flashed by so very quickly, not able to cope with ordinary things, but wanting to share his gift

Fluent in French, German and English as well as his native Dutch, he gave life, birth to a canvas

Never to be famous until he failed, failed himself, failed in love, only to sacrifice to a prostitute

Punishing himself for the righteousness of the world to see, see his paintings, his sketches his every love

Suffering he gave away a bloody ear from his own being, a sacrifice so small compared, he shared

He tried to give to those that were in pain, instead the pain induced inside and tortured his mind

His brother loved him very much, he encouraged his art, though he struggled in his finance

Only to sell one painting in his life, death in the arms of his brother, whatever happened to Vincent

His name carried on through his nephew and then again in fame, his mother lived to know

The greatest Dutch Painter next to Rembrandt, who would have known, the Irises, the portrait of Dr. Gachet

I guess the silence in the asylum gave him more than one could ever know, only Jesus

A gift from God, he will always be known, and such a great Impressionistic Artist, a genius

I love the Wheatfield With Crows, a painting thought to be his very last, the wheat stalks swelter

The Auvers' July dry heat, the bright glittering rippling sky so citrine, as the crows fly low

The swoop of the moment, the stormy indigo blues of the sky swirl in madness, with sadness

Was this a nowhere road, a last standing wheatfield rolling with the wind, or the last torn canvas

Of a mad man who strived to prove that his heart was smouldering of gold with Gods touch, we mourn

As Vincent wanted it, it never really was, but now every gallery across the country knows of thee

A Van Gogh from the eighteenth century, I salute you for your brave and yet fatal death and memory

Known as the "Greatest Dutch Painter" as Vincent would have wanted it