Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
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Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
2nd version:
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
What was he like? I'm often asked.
He was calm and gentle,
and as steady as dusk, returning every day
before dark, never missing a meal.
Every evening he would lift
my little sister onto his lap,
drawing The Sandman for her on slate.
How could a man like that
walk out into a corn field
and shoot himself?
I was startled when he returned,
bent over. “Is something wrong?”
but he climbed the stairs
groaning,
curling up in bed,
a wound near his heart.
A telegram was sent to Theo
as I lingered in the doorway.
I was 13, and despair at that age
is incomprehensible.
76 now, I am still moved by that scene
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
first version:
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
I'm often asked about that night
when he entered our house, clutching his stomach.
He had shot himself with a revolver.
Why not? he told the police later.
"My body is mine. I am free
to do what I want with it."
Wasn't it a never ending expense, he was quoted later,
kept going with coffee and cigarettes?
A telegram was sent to his brother.
Arriving mid afternoon, he sat all night
by Monsieur Vincent's side.
I lingered in the doorway. I was 13, and despair
was incomprehensible.
76 now, I am still moved by that scene
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
What was he like? I'm often asked.
He was calm and gentle,
and as steady as dusk, returning every day
before dark, never missing a meal.
Every evening he would lift
my little sister onto his lap,
drawing The Sandman for her on slate.
How could a man like that
walk out into a corn field
and shoot himself?
I was startled when he returned,
bent over. “Is something wrong?”
but he climbed the stairs
groaning,
curling up in bed,
a wound near his heart.
A telegram was sent to Theo
as I lingered in the doorway.
I was 13, and despair at that age
is incomprehensible.
76 now, I am still moved by that scene
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
first version:
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself
I'm often asked about that night
when he entered our house, clutching his stomach.
He had shot himself with a revolver.
Why not? he told the police later.
"My body is mine. I am free
to do what I want with it."
Wasn't it a never ending expense, he was quoted later,
kept going with coffee and cigarettes?
A telegram was sent to his brother.
Arriving mid afternoon, he sat all night
by Monsieur Vincent's side.
I lingered in the doorway. I was 13, and despair
was incomprehensible.
76 now, I am still moved by that scene
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Bob---
once again, major subject matter.
a towering fountain that commanded my attention from the bold title---the discursive nature of that title was fine.
however, there is little gas in the tank of the narrator Adeline Ravoux, i want to know about Van Gogh. more, somehow, than his stray thoughts about suicide.
that said, the narrative here is smooth and unfolds to a pointed conclusion. The final image is excellent.
but let me see Van Gogh alive and staring with deep appreciation at the mauve women of Gauguin's south sea visions.
van gogh becomes a tortured, T S Eliot figure...a Prufrock:
grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bot
I toms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me. 125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
oh that beautiful contrast of visions, Van Gogh with his starry night, the birds, the cluttered room.
if he had not already said goodbye to Gauguin,
he said it now as he clumsily pointed and fired
his small Lefaucheux a broche pocket revolver
into his own body deep enough to die in 30 hours.
http://www.paul-gauguin.net/
images contrasted with the more intellectual constraint here:
https://www.google.com/search?site=&sou ... RiraGK-PvU
sorry to change the pom, but i feel comfortable with your poetic spirit and wanted to give my deepest thought.
bernie
once again, major subject matter.
a towering fountain that commanded my attention from the bold title---the discursive nature of that title was fine.
however, there is little gas in the tank of the narrator Adeline Ravoux, i want to know about Van Gogh. more, somehow, than his stray thoughts about suicide.
that said, the narrative here is smooth and unfolds to a pointed conclusion. The final image is excellent.
but let me see Van Gogh alive and staring with deep appreciation at the mauve women of Gauguin's south sea visions.
van gogh becomes a tortured, T S Eliot figure...a Prufrock:
grow old … I grow old … 120
I shall wear the bot
I toms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me. 125
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown 130
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
oh that beautiful contrast of visions, Van Gogh with his starry night, the birds, the cluttered room.
if he had not already said goodbye to Gauguin,
he said it now as he clumsily pointed and fired
his small Lefaucheux a broche pocket revolver
into his own body deep enough to die in 30 hours.
http://www.paul-gauguin.net/
images contrasted with the more intellectual constraint here:
https://www.google.com/search?site=&sou ... RiraGK-PvU
sorry to change the pom, but i feel comfortable with your poetic spirit and wanted to give my deepest thought.
bernie
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- Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
- Location: Between the mountains and the sea
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Bernie has brought up some great points, pointers even.
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself [you don't need all this - my own view]
I would prefer as a title Adeline Looks Back]
I'm often asked about that night
when he entered our house, clutching his stomach.
[personally I would like a stronger opening, were his guts hanging out,
was the smell absolutely disgusting, the smell of excreta and blood
was he in agony, I knew he was mad, but this!]
He had shot himself with a revolver.
Why not? he told the police later.
"My body is mine. I am free
to do what I want with it."
Wasn't it a never ending expense, he was quoted later,
kept going with coffee and cigarettes?
A telegram was sent to his brother.
[prefer the brother's name
here: Theo, such a nice Dutch name]
Arriving mid afternoon, he sat all night
by Monsieur Vincent's side.
I lingered in the doorway. I was 13, and despair
was incomprehensible.
[Maybe: at 13 it was hard dealing with incomprehensible despair]
76 now, I am still moved by that scene [in old age I am still moved . . .}
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
[I would like a judgement on the madman: savage
dismissive then countered by his obvious skill in his lunatic art.]
Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Himself [you don't need all this - my own view]
I would prefer as a title Adeline Looks Back]
I'm often asked about that night
when he entered our house, clutching his stomach.
[personally I would like a stronger opening, were his guts hanging out,
was the smell absolutely disgusting, the smell of excreta and blood
was he in agony, I knew he was mad, but this!]
He had shot himself with a revolver.
Why not? he told the police later.
"My body is mine. I am free
to do what I want with it."
Wasn't it a never ending expense, he was quoted later,
kept going with coffee and cigarettes?
A telegram was sent to his brother.
[prefer the brother's name
here: Theo, such a nice Dutch name]
Arriving mid afternoon, he sat all night
by Monsieur Vincent's side.
I lingered in the doorway. I was 13, and despair
was incomprehensible.
[Maybe: at 13 it was hard dealing with incomprehensible despair]
76 now, I am still moved by that scene [in old age I am still moved . . .}
so long ago. There are moments when I enter a room
and half-expect to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
[I would like a judgement on the madman: savage
dismissive then countered by his obvious skill in his lunatic art.]
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- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Thanks, guys. You both make good points. Bernie, your idea about VG thinking of Gauguin's paintings is a very interesting one.....You're both right...The first half of the poem lacks the intensity of the second half, and just goes over familiar ground. Another possibility would be to start the poem with the stanza 'A telegram was sent to Theo...' What do you think?
Best, Bob
Best, Bob
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- Posts: 1986
- Joined: 02 Mar 2016, 18:07
- Location: Between the mountains and the sea
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
You've done well in the past with your understatement style
and this is in the same vein.
I just feel you need to open with a bang,
He was violent, and killed himself
the shock to a little girl must have been immense.
I like the way she honours him, calling him Monsieur
the ending could contrast the horror she sees and his skill
even if a madman.
If you use the telegram to start you may take away the focus from the little girl
it is after all about the little girl and her hero or distinguished guest.
and this is in the same vein.
I just feel you need to open with a bang,
He was violent, and killed himself
the shock to a little girl must have been immense.
I like the way she honours him, calling him Monsieur
the ending could contrast the horror she sees and his skill
even if a madman.
If you use the telegram to start you may take away the focus from the little girl
it is after all about the little girl and her hero or distinguished guest.
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Bob---
Theo is a great brother, but he pales standing next to the two great post-impressionist painters I cannot help focusing on.
When you see a Gauguin, you think, This man is living in a dream world. When you see a van Gogh, you think, This dream world is living in a man.
The New Yorker
Jan 29, 2007
Theo is a great brother, but he pales standing next to the two great post-impressionist painters I cannot help focusing on.
When you see a Gauguin, you think, This man is living in a dream world. When you see a van Gogh, you think, This dream world is living in a man.
The New Yorker
Jan 29, 2007
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Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Thanks, everyone, for your encouragement and ideas. I have revised the poem...let me know what you think. Best, Bob
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Bob---
the poem asks three questions.
and begins advertising this insight:
He was calm and gentle,
the revised poem is a smooth read. the details that make him more human, are well selected.
a good poem.
bernie
the poem asks three questions.
and begins advertising this insight:
He was calm and gentle,
the revised poem is a smooth read. the details that make him more human, are well selected.
a good poem.
bernie
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- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Thanks, Bernie
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Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Thanks, assume you liked it....best
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Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Hi Bob,
agree w/ Frank re a shorter title "Adeline Ravoux Looks Back "
workshop illustrated for your perusal & consideration Michael (MV)
Still I'm often asked
what he was like - like the sunflower,
and as steady as dusk, returning every day
with the sunset, never missing a meal.
Every evening he would lift
my little sister onto his lap,
drawing The Sandman for her on slate.
on a slate. How could a man that kind
walk out into a corn field
and scarecrow himself?
I was startled when he returned,
bent over. “Is something wrong?”
but he climbed the stairs
clutching his gut and groaning -
like the dying Gaul curled up in bed,
with wound near his heart.
A telegram was sent to Theo
as I lingered in the doorway -
at 13 despair is incomprehensible.
76 now, I remain moved by that scene
from so long ago. There are those moments
when I enter a room and half-expect
to see Monsieur Vincent
sitting up in bed, smoking a pipe,
eyes closed, calm, as if thankful
it would soon be over.
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
Guys....
old enough to remember a 1960 broadway play?
Oh, Dad, Poor Dad, Mama's Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad---
and the funny line was, i haven't seen the play, but i read the title.
bernie
old enough to remember a 1960 broadway play?
Oh, Dad, Poor Dad, Mama's Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad---
and the funny line was, i haven't seen the play, but i read the title.
bernie
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- Posts: 2688
- Joined: 03 Jun 2016, 21:03
Re: Adeline Ravoux Looks Back at the Night Van Gogh Shot Him
I confess. I'm old enough to remember the play's name...it played off-Broadway as I recall. I was in NY in the summer of 1968....but I can't recall if it was still playing. Since I recall the title I assume it still was. I didn't see the play. Great title...