You paint too fast, said Paul,
But Vincent insisted. Speed,Speed is my gift. Look,
That blue blur the kingfisher -
King .... There, there it was
Now on a brown blade quick,
Quick, caught it, still one instant
Beak aligned with yellow stems,
Stemmed, momently immobile,
Then off through the yellowing world
The yellowing browns of the flat,
Flat land in which I find
Eternity, infinity more beautiful,
More beautiful than the sea.
That's what the soldier also said -
Inhabited. he said. Remember
My bent dark toiling peasantry
Black peasants working the land
Soiled.
His black lines glow
As bars of a brazier melt,
Melt into Midi colour, light,
Brighter with the speeding years
The land writhes with colour.
Gone his rich brown sepia faces.
Now under a pulsating sun,
Under the finite infinite sky,
The indigo pulsing starlit dome
Pressing over the bright,
Bright yellow cafe light
Where under an awning
Terraced figures sit
At circular white tables
Sheltering from infinity
Beside the flowing cobbles
Of a workaday evening street.
©2020Terry Hodgson
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