Van Gogh's Grave
on the headstone over your bones
are the saddest words to be seen
in this lonely French cemetery
on this bleak mid-winter’s day.
You died neglected at thirty-seven
after years of abject poverty
your life a living Hell ending
in insanity, then suicide.
I pray you are in Heaven
for though your soul has departed
your art lives on in our hearts
inspiring mankind in perpetuity
with its beauty and humanity.
Many visitors pass this way
during the bright daytime hours
some simply paying their respects
others leaving bouquets of flowers
but this churchyard closes at dusk
leaving your grave to the cold light
of the moon and the starry, starry night.
Born and raised in Cardiff, Wales, Ian has an MA in English from Oxford University. He lives in Taiwan with his wife, two daughters and cat. He teaches English in a high school. He has had poems and short stories published in The Ekphrastic Review, 1947 A Literary Journal, Dead Snakes, Schlock! Webzine, Short-story.me, Anotherealm, Under the Bed, A Story In 100 Words, Poems and Poetry, Friday Flash Fiction, and in various anthologies.
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