Starry Starry Day

Today Year 8 have been busy creating poems based on the works of troubled painter, Vincent van Gogh. Students have spent the day researching van Gogh’s paintings and personal life. They also listened to Don Mclean’s “Starry Starry Night” to fuel their creativity. Here are the fruits of their labour –
Thank you to Mrs Salkeld, Mrs Doran and Mrs Morgan for planning and delivering this day of cultural enrichment.
Yours in painting and poetry,

Miss C Taylor


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5 Responses to Starry Starry Day

  1. Katie Willoughby :) Lucy Selley, Lisia Fisilau and Katie's mum says:

    Dearest Theo,
    As the days get longer in these summer months, so my heart gets heavier and darker. My soul feels empty and alone in these sunny wheat fields where I lie, gazing into the emptiness of the world. I feel misunderstood and unwanted in this pitiful and shallow life.
    They call me Fou-Rou – Crazy man. Who’s to say that they aren’t the fools, my ear maimed and my mind troubled with thoughts of death does not reflect the person that I am inside. My love for others is unrelenting and true.
    The beautiful sights and faces painted from my very heart and soul is nothing compared to the twisted disagreeable mocking crowd that I see before me in my daily grinding day.
    My epilepsy hinders me and my friend Paul Gauguin has suffered for it; cut by razor from my rage. Trapped in the asylum, the blank walls surrounding me, closing in on me, isolating me; I feel crushed and suffocated in my own company. I feel like I’m drowning in my own sorrow, like I’m the only one struggling, with the outsiders living in ignorance to my desperation and aspirations. The women I have loved have all ended in heart break leaving me in pain.
    What will become of me and my paintings? Will we become brushed aside and soon forgotten like the discarded shards of glass from a broken mirror, reflecting back at me what I have become.
    You are the kindest brother, the most loyal companion I know in this life. Always with me feeling my pain and losses. Your dear wife carrying your first child will hopefully not be cursed with the same despair as I.
    December 23rd 1898 was a horrific night. The paint rasping down my throat burning as I swallowed more and more of the oily resin, what possessed me to do this I do not know but I am assured it was the work of a demon in my soul who I am yet to defeat.
    However this demon has returned and I am too weak to fight him any longer, I am being forced to give in to this monster inside me. The cold steel revolver sits in my sweaty palm, and the trigger dancing on my thumb. I take my final breaths, as you dear brother read this note. The pain will soon be over, so remove my paint, my easel and my canvas and start afresh.
    Yours very truly

  2. céleste confue, becky fowler, harri groom, 8 F says:


    A night washed away in brush strokes
    Smeared in blue and grey
    The colours are more than they seem,
    Showing your emotions
    In every step you take.

    You feel the pain and agony,
    Which truly was just lead.
    Poisoned by the outside
    Tormented by your head.
    The world had turned against you
    Isn’t that what you said?

    Your eyes are full of pain,
    A century of misery.
    .Your eyes are old and wise,
    Of a glossy blue.
    Your hair as red as a squirrel.
    Before the night was a due…

    The world was never ready
    For someone as great as you

    Born before your time,
    The world wasn’t ready.
    The magic you could paint,
    the way you saw the world,
    Was different to all others

    yours truly

  3. Maddie Hughes and Rochelle Coombes says:

    Starry Starry Life by Maddie Hughes and Rochelle Coombes 8H

    I am risking my life for my work and half my reason has gone.
    I sit in this dark and twisting tower, suffering for my sanity; thinking, reminiscing.
    The sky, ablaze with heavenly bodies; the sun, a luminescent orb giving me hope as I contemplate.

    The stars spiral with brilliant colours, white light swirling like the madness I feel descending on me.
    Looking out, I see a spire, reaching out for this beacon of hope; searching for a saviour.
    I feel I cannot be helped. Expressing my fears and desperation in solitude.

    I would not change the life I have led for anything in this world.
    My path was chosen, and my fate has been sealed.
    Bright lights bring me but a moment of solace, and on this Starry, Starry night I am risking my life for my work, and half my reason is gone.

  4. Jazzy Goodman says:

    Starry Night

    The stars shining in the sky,
    The stars twinkling in the sky,
    The starry night, the starry night,
    Oh what a beautiful sight.

    They told me I’m no good,
    Wore me down like they knew they would,
    Now I feel so alone,
    My life an unturned stone.

    The swirls in the sky,
    The unknown spirits of my kind,
    I have painted what I have to say,
    But everything seems to fall away.

    Across the ocean sea,
    You can view how beautiful they can be,
    Spread across the sky so high,
    And now this is my goodbye.

  5. Anna Perkins says:

    Vincent Van Gogh

    Finding light in darkness and a sweetness in sorrow,
    Finding passion in the madness, and hope for tomorrow.
    A tortured mind filled with art and insanity,
    A desperate lost soul with a genius mentality.

    Using a paintbrush to portray the pain,
    Waiting for recognition, although it never came.
    The rush of the colours, the overwhelming light,
    Then deep darkness drowning his world, like the night.

    It was this deep darkness that ended his life,
    Along with the pain, hardship and strife,
    But maybe now he’s found his star, as well as a place to belong,
    A sad yet beautiful life, set free to burn bright and strong.

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