I have been doing a poetry class for the last 2 months, this is one of the poems I have produced a few weeks ago, and one of the one’s i’m happier with. It’s a syllabic poem as every line is 10 syllables long. 

Vincent’s Sorrow   

What am I in the eyes of most people?
I who paint turbulent starry vistas
under an enveloping dark blue sky,  
knowing nothing for certain , apart from
stars that bring dreams in the blackness of night .

No-one understands the mystery of
my message, the magic of my brush , single
brushstrokes define pleasure / pain principles
existing in deep recesses within.

My chrome yellow fingers caressed the green
fairy at the night café , meeting place for
lost souls, all treading on paths to nowhere,
the unpleasant, the lowest of the low.

I shall show them through the power of paint
what such a nobody holds within his heart.
Enduring madness , waking hellish vision
that tears at the walls of reason itself.

Today I painted a wheatfield  with crows,
expressing loneliness and solitude
reflecting my life’s broken promises

Now it will end and it will not end well

Chris Godber
March 2012