The ache of loneliness
Filled white sheets
While the mind it walked
The empty streets
To the river
Its calming wave
Its gentle ripples
Its searching page.
Of historys mention
With kindly thoughts
That stretched to Heaven
In Nature caught
A landscape calm
Or raging storm
A starry night
Or blood red thorn.
The cafe hours
Always alone
Within the crowd
Mind to atone
For judgement which
So harshly given
The sadness became
A forever prison.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2026 02:53
- Comment from author about the poem: Vincent Van Goghs last words upon hid death bed
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 1
Offline)
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