lighthouse

the stone steps are what I remembered as a boy,

seemingly castle steps,

I which I was allowed to play,

but the memory faded with the years,

until one day,

unexpectedly, 

while on a walk in my college town,

I spotted the steps I remembered as a boy,

my heart burst,

and childhood dreams sprang back to life.

Douglas Polk

Pizza

a pizza painting,

full of good things,

colors and shapes,

the eyes digest piece after piece,

until too full,

and sick and tired of pizza.

Douglas Polk

River Valley

a river valley flows through the ranch of my parents,

the ranch sold,

but the river survives,

down among the trees by the river,

a village site,

of the ancient ones of long ago,

arrowheads found,

and bone and flint,

in the trees,

by the river,

that flows through my parents old ranch.

Douglas Polk

Ocean Creature

Ocean Creature

creature from the deep,

appeared on my canvas,

as if summoned from the depths,

of the ocean,

or of my mind,

I can never be sure,

but that is alright by me,

an old friend,

sea creature,

from the deep.

Douglas Polk

Hangover

Hangover

fuzzy and confused,

the painting unsure of what it wants to be,

colors soft,

as if the eyes can not stand too much color,

soothing in a sick sort of way,

akin to a hangover.

Douglas Polk

Look Closely

No poem today. This more a story. I painted this painting hoping to give it to my daughter in law, but thought the painting a failure. It was meant to be sacred, expressing the Jewish faith in a somber way. But when I was about to throw it away, I looked closely, and in the middle of the painting, the image I start to see, seems quite familiar to me. What do you think ?

Douglas Polk

Straw Bale

Straw Bale

bale in the pasture,

awaiting cattle,

and the winter snows,

precious food,

stored in open sight,

cattle dance and kick their way,

to the bales of hay,

left in the field,

on this summer day.

Douglas Polk

Veggie Omelette

Veggie Omelette

painted by my subconscious,

consists of everything I hate,

I a meat eater,

love the taste and feel of blood dripping from my lips,

a veggie omelette,

a nightmare realized.

Douglas Polk

Seventies

Seventies

a decade of disorder,

like the painting above,

faces seen in the haze,

sex, freedom,

and rock and roll,

now enslaving us in our old age,

probably better,

no to have revolted,

but what fun is that,

with no stories to tell.

Gates

Gates

(appeared in Rope and Wire Journal-May 2012)

Grandpa and I would salt and cake,

he’d drive the pickup,

I’d get the gates,

my older brothers thought I a fool,

getting gate after gate,

nine in all,

but they didn’t hear the stories Grandpa would tell,

or learn the secrets of doing good work well,

letting tools and nature,

give you a hand,

or understanding the farm,

and the lay of the land,

they only thought of the gates,

nine in all.

Douglas Polk

A Thistle

A Thistle 

a thistle found,

in these colors,

red, yellow and blue,

a weed,

hated in the prairie lands,

nowhere is it welcome,

a Cain,

an outcast,

destined to roam the earth,

looking for home.

Douglas Polk

River

in the valley of the hills,

a river flows,

surrounded by trees,

green the year around,

a place of the soul,

paradise found,

in the unlikely of places,

sand and grass all around.

Douglas Polk

Worker

Worker

days long,

hours hard,

day after day,

week after week,

year after year,

while the rich dart around the world,

overdosing,

and dying,

looking for a meaning to their lives,

they just can not seem to find,

while the worker works,

day after day,

year after year.

Douglas Polk

buffalo hunter

buffalo hunter

lost in the fog of time,

still upon your horse,

roaming the plains of this great land,

seen in the early morning fogs,

and in the last of the day's sunlight,

prayers said,

and pipes smoked for your success.

Douglas Polk

river

the river eternal,

flows through the hills of sand,

hiding from view,

hoping to remain unseen,

pure and untouched by man's dirty hands,

and chemicals,

river eternal,

the fountain of life,

hiding from view.

Douglas Polk

ghosts

autumn trees,

playing dead,

white ghosts,

not yet come to life,

but wait for Spring,

then view the autumn trees,

when the ghosts have faded away.

Douglas Polk

breath

the breath of the living,

creating life in the colors of the circle,

existence is real,

if only for a little while,

and if only for those who can see,

the breath of the living.

Douglas Polk

Jack

colors scream,
while Jack climbs his bean stalk,
evil lurks along the way,
hidden in the weeds,
and corn,
so golden yellow.

Douglas Polk

Spirit of the Buffalo

the spirit of the buffalo,

sacred,

breathes life into the painting,

ages past away,

until nothing left,

but the earth,

and the sky,

and the buffalo.

Douglas Polk

Paints

colors flow from a flower,

like paint from a can,

covering the canvas,

in bits and pieces,

dreams once held against thy breast,

now worthless colors on a paper.

Douglas Polk

unfinished

colors race upon the page,

dashing this way,

and that,

chaos reigns,

the artist trapped in thoughts never complete,

and concepts never achieved.

Douglas Polk

Prince

the Prince in agony,

the cause unknown,

helpless the people wait,

hoping the end is not near.

Douglas Polk

Upon the River

trees stare upon the river,

silent and somber,

I sneak among their branches,

unwelcome,

seeing me along the river banks,

they acknowledge their defeat,

hiding their eyes in shame.

Douglas Polk

Fruit

fruit painted upon the page,

dripping with paint,

ripe to eat,

yet looking so comfortable,

upon the page.

Douglas Polk

The River Remembered

hidden in the hills of sand,

a place of serenity,

waters soothing to the touch,

pure and unspoiled,

as the water flows over the cleansing sands,

my special place,

visited again and again in my mind,

while horns honk,

and sirens wail,

trapped in the urban world,

where I now reside.

Douglas Polk

Prayers

prayers said,

when no other options exist,

prayers said,

when the world turns a deaf ear,

prayers said,

when the truth finally understood.

Douglas Polk

Fishing Pool

Fishing Pool


outside my hometown exists a place,
heaven on earth,
a fantasy land for boys of childhood age,
fish and frogs to catch,
snakes and bulls to fear,
within a bike ride of town.



Douglas Polk

Female Jogger

Female Jogger

This painting, I decided to just try to paint a shadow of a jogger, instead of an actual jogger. It is one of my paintings which has been featured in a magazine.

Douglas Polk

Climbing Stairs

Climbing Stairs

This painting is one of my favorites, though it was only a rough sketch, I was planning on doing a more detailed painting,  but fell in love with this painting. I think I like these so much, because it reminds me of the challenges in my life. There is no place to stop and rest, like a landing or a second floor, it it just steps, every day, more stairs. The person in the painting is tiring, almost to the point of using his hands to help him climb the stair.

Douglas Polk

sky on fire

Sky on Fire

I painted this after an evening in my backyard. I think the smoke from fires out west were the cause, the sunset, just filled the sky with an orange-reddish glow.

Douglas Polk