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She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a pending rainbow
that's hiding behind the clouds
in the sky.

She is a warm pocket
in a cold, deep ocean,

She is a virtual art form,
She is poetry in motion.

She is thunder and lightning
in a perfect blue horizon,

She is a delicate wildflower
growing in a plush green field,
one that is mesmerising.

She is an unexpected smile
on a lonely day,

She is instant relief
when things aren't going
your way.

She is a suprising hint of sweetness
when you are expecting
something sour,

She is a timeless friend,
She is an immortal flower.

She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a breath of fresh mountain air, causing one to exhale a relieving sigh.

She is full of substance,
empathy, wisdom and kindness,

She contains infinite layers
of universes beneath her skin,
all of which are unrecognisable
to the naked eyes that suffer from "metaphorical" blindness.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017
Dedicated to my daughter, Amanda. F ***
  Jul 2017 SøułSurvivør
Amanda F
She carries the secrets of the cosmos in her eyes of light,
And tells tales of the constellations every forthcoming night.
With love that promises the sea,
And thoughts that churn the tides.
With a wild rush of grace she'll paint your world
The colours of her mind.
To fathom what she is beyond the subtle and kind,
Do you dare disturb the universe beneath her skin?
Oh wonder what you'll find.*

- A.F
Dedicated to my dearest Mum, Lady R.F. who is and always will be my favourite and ultimate universe to get lost in. I love you forever.
  Jul 2017 SøułSurvivør
phil roberts
See through
Tall under the sun
Crawling beneath stars
In night-time skull
Thoughts behind eyes
Behind dreams
Under darkness
And above light

See through
Pretended truths
Without words or form
Shadow shapes
Lay like death
Choreographed corpses
Meaningless memories
Damaged dreams
Piled upon writhing hopes

See through
Tender tragedy
Daily despair
Grasping at lies like air
And in the stillness of dawn
The cold of morning light
Water drips
Or maybe blood
Tapping through silence

                                     By Phil Roberts
  Jul 2017 SøułSurvivør
RAJ NANDY
Dear Poet Friends, over the last few years I have seen some of our poets make passing remarks about Van Gog, thereby displaying their interest about this talented painter, who had died unrecognised!  Vincent gained full recognition posthumously, for which his brother Theo’s wife was greatly responsible. Hope you like this short and concise true story in verse. Best wishes, - Raj

   A TRIBUTE TO VINCENT VAN GOG’S
                      SUNFLOWERS
                        B­y Raj Nandy
  
”One may have a blazing hearth in one’s soul
  and yet no one ever come to sit by it. Passerby
  see only a wisp of smoke from the chimney and
  continue on the way.” – Vincent Van Gogh(1853-1890)

A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY :
Though during his brief life-span of 37 years he had
remained almost wholly unknown;
His artistic talents began to exhibit itself during his
early years, -
To become a colossus amongst post-impressionist
painters in his later years!
The son of a Dutch clergyman, he had worked in
various capacities, -
In his uncle’s art gallery, in a bookstore, and pursued
theological studies in Amsterdam University.
Also followed by a short stint in Belgium’s coal-mining
district as a lay missionary!
At the age of 27 years took to painting with financial
help from elder brother Theo,
Who encouraged and helped him for the next ten years
or so.
This was the most creative period of Vincent’s life,
Followed by an attack of dementia when he cut his
own ear lobe risking his life!
On 27th July 1890, he shot himself, bringing his
great artistic career to a tragic end!

SERIES OF ELEVEN SUNFLOWER PAINTINGS:
Vincent commenced his famous sunflower series
to decorate his house in Arles, France,
While anticipating his friend Paul Gaugin’s visit in
advance.
His first four canvases had paintings of cut sun -
flowers in bunches of twos and fours;
Painted in Paris during Aug-Sep 1887, which the
world still adores.
But his later Arles series of seven still life canvases
are better known to us;
And this series of paintings had made Vincent
internationally famous!
The most valued of these seven is a vase containing
a bunch of 15 sunflowers, -
Now displayed at the Art Museum in the city of Tokyo;
A Japanese firm had paid 40 million dollars at an
auction for this masterpiece to show!

                    A SHORT CONCLUSION
Vincent brought his passion for sunflowers from his
homeland in Holland.
Which became synonymous with him like those ‘water
lilies’ with his contemporary painter Claude Monet.
Vincent painted the various stages of the flowers in bloom;
From its budding stage till it wilted and swooned!
Chrome yellow and yellow ochre made them look fresh;
And arid brown and somber shades showed its wilted stage!
Thus his paintings covered all angles of spectrum of life
itself;
In turn reaching a deeper understanding of how all living
things are tied together and made !
His explosive energy was displayed through his vibrant
shades of yellow.
Using red for passion, and green for conflict to show.
Grey shades were used for life’s inevitable surrender,
with blue symbolising infinity;
Thus this Dutch Impressionist painter harnessed a
moment of time in eternity!

Foot Notes:-
Dr Jan Hulsker, a foremost scholar on Van Gogh, had said that this Sunflower series of paintings brought Vincent eternal acclaim & fame! During his short life span he made 700 paintings, 1600 drawings, 9 lithographs & one etching. His ‘Potatoe Eaters’, ‘Red Vineyard’, ‘Starry Night’, - are all famous paintings. Paul Gaugin, & Claude Monet, were his other ‘Impressionist’ contemporaries. Impressionism  emphasised changing qualities of light & colour, visible brush strokes, open composition,  creating an impression of a moment of time! Derives its name from Claude Monet’s harbour painting titled “Impressions & Sunrise”. This art form became popular in 1880s and 1890s.
*ALL COPY RIGHTS RESERVED BY RAJ NANDY
I found a poem
it was packed away
in a box in an attic is where it lay
dormant in the dark
unable to say
the words he had written
his final day

the attic has light now
he heard the switch click
come to me come to me
hurry! be quick
I've waited for years
for ions to be read
then the sound of turning pages
danced in his head

he awaited the light when he heard paper turning
and the smile of a face would have his heart burning
closer and closer as the pages were freed
then stopped at the title and did not proceed
did not proceed but the eyes he could see
through the thin journal paper the eyes he could see
and the tears ran down cheeks of a child all but 3
Daddy, he said, 'Can you read this for me?'
'Perhaps you can read it some other day
when you're old enough to know just what it might say
Off now my child, we can't be all night
lay down the book and turn off the light

and from that day forward he waited for me
the child to return
to set the words free
SøułSurvivør Jul 2017
You're looking out
Of private eyes
Wearing shades
In disguise
But your soul-talk
Never lies.

You hide in dresses
Garish red
You break your back
You break your bed
Can't you get it
Through your head?
One more shot
You may be dead.

Russian Roulette's
No game to play
It's all a gamble
As you say
Want to live
Another day?
If you die...
You'd better PRAY.

You strut the streets
You sail in yachts
Your jetsetter life
Is paid for. Bought.
You can go to Fiji
But your thoughts
Are still around
They can't be fought.

You drink & drug
To hide the scars
Wear long sleeves
For all the mars
A lowlife *****
A superstar
Wherever you go...

... there you are.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/21/2017
No matter where you go or what you do you'll always face the enemy. YOU.

I know. I was an addict. But I died... in Christ. Now HE is in control. I still have to wrestle self. I still have troubles. But it's LIGHT-YEARS better than it was.

Thank you, GOD! ♡
  Jul 2017 SøułSurvivør
phil roberts
She cries tears of mother's ruin
"Look at me!
It's been so hard
All of my life
And I've had to fight
For my own patch of light
Still, no-one ever looks at me"

He turns his eyes to the floor
Saying nothing
Feeling stupid
And his words burst like bubbles in his mouth
He is desperate to say something
Anything to make her happy
But he cannot turn disappointment
Back into youthful optimism
Or bitterness back to hope
As she sinks into smeary sobs
Wet and bleary loss
He takes her home

He undresses her and puts her to bed
Then he holds her as she cries
And he holds her as she sleeps
He hushes her when she stirs
And calms her when she starts and cries out
When the dreams become too real
And he shall never be more than this
Never more fulfilled
Caring for her is his only purpose
Making her happy is his holy grail
Willingly trapped within her pain
He is nothing else at all

                               By Phil Roberts
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