lean over

like a dark sky..

I feel safe that way.

While the sea is still the sunshine blue,

and the waves haven't assumed the shades of

the monsoon green.

Evening is the time to leave everything

to the swiping dark horizon.

Close the eyes and see within.

From the sea the sounds go slowly dim,

and the whirling dervish stands still.

Return to the coffee in hand;

the elixir of peace.

Paul Klee - Strong Dream 1929.

 God's footprint, mysterious and single, was beside you as you dreamt, and you were the least aware as you lay on your back

and looked at the orb of the moon.

The moon with an infant sun within its arms,

and you wondered at the sign dropped for you to catch.

Revel on one such night at the power

of that single footprint by your side that gave you a strong dream.

Sushama Karnik.

Maria Livia São MarcosHistory of Art Group

  · 

Angela DonatiniPaul Klee

  · 

Paul Klee - Strong Dream, 1929

Heading on: 1010ll | Aesthetic art, Art inspiration, Ethereal arPINTEREST.COMt https://www.instagram.com/p/BnBkv37gGMi/?

 Heading On

Far from home in the rains

the road is straight and wide

and that's the only road the traveler knows

and though the lamp posts light it all along

The traveler must rest before he goes.

Summer or winter or heavy rains

Your home is always there

With shutters down, and frilled curtains glimmering behind the lowered rims

and a light flickering inside its heart

Just a speck, a tiny dot

Enough to warm a frozen being

Deep in these woods the path can't be seen

Weeds and undergrowth have covered it all

Flowers with their enticing yellow arrest the sight, leave a drunken stupor and stop the breath.

Your trees have taken a touch of the blue and a delicate pink.

Truly, you have entered the heart of heaven O Vincent Van Gogh.

Who the woman was whom you took there in this moment of bliss, the world may never know.

Sushama Karnik.

1010ll | Aesthetic art, Art inspiration, Ethereal ar

PINTEREST.COM

t

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6Françoise Dhulesia, György Fülöp and 4 others

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Arun Joshi

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Françoise Dhulesia

What a beautiful intimate address to the creator, with hints of a monologue or even an interior monologue.

In-between a narrator whose identity's unknown and the addressee whose notoriety's renowed, the reader's pleasure is to travel through a mental canvas, heading on the colourful, sensory path of life.

The narrator is the storyteller that seems to know the creator almost intimately: the evocation of the atmosphere in Van Gogh's paintings is evoked with all a sublety that only a connoisseur can so well phrase.

The last sentence, nevertheless, ends the poem on a mysterious note, on a mystery: the identity of the woman's left unrevealed and that is all the better: this leaves a space for the viewers to enter the frame and re-create their own story. That is what art's for, to offer an empty space for us readers, interpreters, viewers, listeners to keep heading on.