Rob Vogel

Biography

I am or gather i was..., a graphic artist for many years and I was always involved in art, I wrote many years ago some poetry, now however having more time (yes, retired from the hectic international designer life) I have taken up the poetry again as it complement to my lifestyle, painting, illustration and poetry. As I live now in the south of France I would like to write in French, but my french language skill is not good enough to express feelings, so the English language is for me the easiest. After living for 45 years in Ireland I have a reasonable grasp of the English language, even though my original language was Dutch!

Samples

Art A woman’s face, awash with those soft pastels, tears, of joy or pain, stream from my eyes, I dream, while I face that sheet of insubstantial whiteness. Seeing the future or past, unchartered, I regret, as fractured light highlights those impulsive filaments of hair, not seen before, till nature’s sun’s hand guided me there. I wonder, is that the paper women I drafted first, following those faint pencil lines, I creating, like her gaze, deepening those subtle shadows cherished and adored. Gilding the shape and hues composed by me, But alas, nature has already wrought these shapes, drawn by my hand, without ornaments, natural shapes, and no appearance As nature steals my eyes and the woman’s soul goes awry. I am defeated by nature’s skills and playfulness, Adding things to my purpose of nothingness. Showing false art where all that beauty should be. Le printemps Gleaming sunshine bright and clear, The new and joyful season is here. Silver drops on a golden network of glittering scales, It has come before it’s time, out of those dark chilly dales. Birds will sing merrily hoping to dwell here, Air is full of fresh scents and budding trees there. While the whispering air says do not be daunted, We do not snare, but still the raindrops falls uncounted. Spring has arrived silently and dappled with black, But ominous clouds gather, with the complexity they normally lack. The wind is sleeping and still, waiting for that sign, For the winter to hide, beyond, in her own downy shrine. As a womans face liv’d like that flower just emerged, showing springs beauty and vigor just forged. I hold my breath, waiting for the time, and those days, when spring is at her prime.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Blog entries by Rob Vogel

Spring (05/06/2017)

Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/robvogel