Tag: Van Gogh.

Also posted in Poetry Passion.

I was strolling on a hot summer day

in a field full of Van Gogh poppies.

I dreamed I looked like Troy Donahue,

tan and shirtless, wearing shades

as the gentle wind ruffled my blond hair,

wondering if I should date Grace Kelly

or how about Lauren Becall,

if she wasn’t too busy.

I stood in the swaying fields of poppy,

surrounded by a thousand singing Hobbits

with large feet and big hairy ears.

While flexing my pecs and bulging biceps,

a beautiful naked lady appears

with long, flaxen hair and ample bosom,

riding a Chagall white horse sidesaddle.

She invited me to hop on

bareback, galloping up to the sky

as she gently shared her 

moist, warm soul,

nibbling on my ear,

whispering in an all too familiar voice:

“Harry, I got a good deal on Bayer Aspirin,

but I couldn’t find any of those wet

Swiffer sweepers.”