Van Gogh

Written by Line Monique Gauthier |
Published on:


Well over a hundred years ago

The illustrious Vincent Willem Van Gogh

A genius somewhat like Michelangelo

With thousands of artworks in his cluttered studio

From the sublime to the grotesque for show

Might have been better off working as a gigolo

Cause he died a pauper on skid row


In those days artists had no impressario

To make sure they lived in a chateau

Dining on champagne and escargot

So it was quite a different scenario

That brilliant artists lived totally incognito

Often exchanging a painting for a meal on a patio

Or selling their wares door to door on tiptoe

Carrying under their arm their impressive portfolio


So it was for Vincent Willem Van Gogh

Misunderstood and suffering from vertigo

Mentally unstable and drinking heavily in Bordeaux

Depressed, impulsive and insane – a tragic combo

Cut off a piece of his ear, his sanity was touch and go

A troubled soul, life for him was a wild rodeo

Obsessive passion, far from living the status quo

His life and work intertwined shimmying like a yo-yo


Feeling the stranger, he shot himself overcome with sorrow

Post mortem everyone wanted to hear the myth of Van Gogh

With his vivid colours of burgundy, ochre and indigo

In his honour every year they play the oboe

While the Italians exclaim magnifico

Everyone else cheers Bravo!


Copyright ©

Form of Poetry


Author: Line Monique Gauthier
I started writing poetry as a teenager and the passion for it flourished since retiring. I also dabble in photography, watercolour and acrylics. I created what I call Flash Memory Therapy. I am an active member of Haiku Canada and My poetry is down-to-earth and meant to be understood as opposed to impress with hifalutin words.
My External Website (External Website Opens in New Window)


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