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Veni Vidi Amavi Jun 2017
Sunflowers
Sunflowers
You shine like the sun rise
Sweet like a sunset

Sunflowers
Sunflowers
You took my heart
My eyes won't stop looking at you

Sunflowers
Sunflowers
You remembering me
To someone that I adore so much

Sunflowers
Sunflowers
Thank you
For the sweet memories
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like recycling scar tissue you refuse to show
Like holding the words to a cookbook containing the recipe for disaster
Like the blood of an open wound placed by the whip of an unruly master
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like when you finally learn the meaning of you reap what you sow
Like a magnificent sand castle washed away by the sea
All the sand becomes one and denies the right to be free
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like the sting from the phrase I told you so
Like a deer caught in headlights frozen dead in it's tracks
Like gazing the stars if we could just climb the smoke stacks
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like excluding truth from what you think you know
Like playing life in a game of poker, and the *** is everything but cheap
Karma has the high hand, face up, read'em and weep
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like running through red lights because all you want is to go
Like a jack of all trades who can't fix his own heart
Like the tortoise that took off before the race even start
Even sunflowers need the rain to grow
Like a hundred oars and no arms to row
Prom3theus  May 2016
Sunflowers
Prom3theus May 2016
I used to tend to sunflowers,
Nurtured and nurished their seeds,
Through soft songs and flourished hours,
Their beauty a mirror to my needs,
It feeds a hole in my life's fabric,
One I cared not for to stitch in time,
So the hole has become a scar and what's tragic,
Is my sunflowers died and buried into that hole of mine,

I have spent years regretting,
Pulling away pettles and crying over the fact they won't regrow,
But though I knew not at the time I wasnt letting,
My sunflowers growing new and so,

In time I came to remember,
Something I concede that I should already know,
That the rotten dreams of last December,
Are mulch from which new sunflowers will grow,

So what if the sunflowers of my past may never not return,
So what if my fabrics torn and gaping gap will never mend,
The new seeds that I soe are now my new concern,
I have new sunflowers now to tend.
Rough unready thoughts from a long bus journey
You bought me sunflowers last Saturday
because you like the yellow orchestra we can
listen to, but you do not have to direct.
It plays a private concert only for you.
I play a few notes here and there too,
but nothing can compare to sunflowers.

I compare lots of things to
flowers,
like your eyes.
You do something to my insides
I cannot explain
in a metaphor to flowers.

You planted a gilded seed.
It grew faster than any ****;
more delicious than homemade irish mead.

Sun shining, birds chirping, children playing-
all of this-
sounds like life’s decaying
because you’re not next to me.

You make oxygen more than a box on the periodic table.

I’m not suggesting I’m unable
to perform tasks without you.
I’m used to ashes in my coffee cup.
Your presence seems to open up
cold sunflowers.
You set ablaze the sun’s powers.
I could go on like this for hours
about the love you built;
iridescent solid sunflowers
Astral May 2015
I live in a forest of fallen sunflowers, old and wise, they speak to me of the days gone by

When the sun sets among the wilderness blaze, they tell me night is befalling, and I must make my departure

They tell of decades ago, how they’ve watched as humans lived their lives, most rotten in nature

They spoke of the one that used to tend to them, how gracious and kind, how pure and warm

For the sunflowers spoke with melancholy, for they knew that their former caretaker was well gone

So for a moment they wept their tears of seeds, and sung soft melodies of their former caretaker

They spoke to me and warned of the evils of humanity, how they were too once the victim of the evil

They asked why humans destroyed what’s beautiful around them, why they wish to sabotage what keeps them breathing


But they spoke to me and said I was a rare human, one that had good intention, and a sensitive heart

As night began to fall, I left the forest of sunflowers, carrying their tearful seeds

To spread as I walked away, to maybe rejoice and create life once more

The forest I hope will remain tomorrow, that it stands the test of time
Amanda  Jun 2014
Sunflowers
Amanda Jun 2014
Nothing can compare to the feeling of
caressing just blossomed sunflowers.
They reflect their warm gaze upon my cold,
freckled cheeks while their golden hue
searches onward for other souls to bless.

Nothing can compare. Except for you.

They remind me of you and your warm gaze
that always seems to settle upon my eyes.
They remind me of your hands and how they
feel when they’re pressed against my face.
And how our faces press against each other’s while
our lips are safely locked together.

No feeling can compare to freshly blossomed sunflowers.
Except for the feeling I get when I’m with you.
Tim Gronek Sep 2013
THE SUNFLOWERS

On the way to the store today
I decided to buy a packet of seeds
They had to be for giant sunflowers
Or else I would really have no need

As I strolled the aisles of the store
I came upon exactly what I was looking for
The packet said they’d grow to be six feet tall
Aiming toward the sky they would surely soar

I took the seeds out and they were oh so very small
How in the world were they going to grow to be so tall?
I took my time and planted each and every seed
In a straight row they went as if to form a floral wall

I watered and waited and even watered some more
Until one day I awoke and saw that they had broken ground
It seemed like they were growing at least a foot a day
One morning I arose and there were buds to be found

Each bud was compact and as tight as it could be
How in the world would they be able to open
Their petals were bent in with no where to go
They looked like they could explode but I knew not when

Today I woke up and was amazed at what I saw
Overnight the tucked away petals had burst open with pride
Big, bright yellow sunflowers were here at last
One little flower seed created sunflowers at least six inches wide
Mary Frances Aug 2018
Like Sunflowers, your presence is bright and warm.
Like Sunflowers, your love is soothing and sweet.
Like Sunflowers, your embrace is home.
This is dedicated to my Grandmother who just celebrated her 68th birthday. She raised me as her own ever since my mom passed away when I was 8. I am ever thankful for her love and support for all of my life.
RAJ NANDY Oct 2016
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
Olivia Kent  Sep 2013
Sunflowers
Olivia Kent Sep 2013
Sunflowers

Good morning world.
After the deluge of yesterday I am sun-kissed once again.
Look out of the window.
Two gardens up stand sunflowers.
Heads the size of dinner plates.
Seems rather late this summer.
Late in coming.
For their gifts to be pasted to the sky.
They stand in a sort of floppy gestures.
Trying to support their heavy heads.
They remind me on this autumn morn with blazing sun.
That summer's almost gone!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
boo croon the sunflowers
and **** squeaks the jay
this garden was not tended to
and when it was, it was done with bitter blisterless hands
the weeds are creeping out now and thickening stalks
and they move out
out out
goes any sense trust we grew in this garden.
and out
out out
goes my frothy yellow blood into the humid grounds of the garden
and you mop it up and glaze over my barkless parts

boo croon the sunflowers
and **** squeaks the jay
the hose to feed me
was bent at angled corners
and the water shrieked its way through
to come out a subtle flaccid
drop by
drop by
drop
on my parched cracked tan sun slapped skins
and i was angry
that you never felt the need to untangle the hose
because you turned the faucet to full volume
so you assumed that was all the water you could give
and i needed

boo croons the sunflowers
and **** squeaks the jay
the garden is all sand colored and tired
and you don’t feel guilty
you looked at it every day
and squirted what you could on it
and picked whatever weeds you saw
but you never went beyond what looked pretty to visitors
and you let the roots rot across the summer
and now that the winter’s fallen in
there’s not enough water to keep the garden beating
and all the melted snow in the world won’t make up for it
© David Clifford Turner, 2010

For more scrawls, head to: www.ramblingbastard.blogspot.com

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