Archive for April, 2011

When words have lost their meaning


when words have lost their meaning

 remaining shells with nothing more

 their letters with no goal,  just tired, pale and leaning

against the doorpost like some old forgotten whore

then poetry is dead and gone

and language lost its purpose all together

nothing to revive it can be done

no words are saved, no single useful letter

no meaning to the sentences  is real

if you don’t read my words, the ones I’ve written

you never know just how I bleed and feel

could language only be a messenger of love

sent with the wings of some eternal dove


entry for jingle thursday poets rally 43

My acceptance poem :

so many words are written fast
so many said, not all are heard
but there may be a few that last
like ‘love’ as the most perfect word

I nominate Jamie Dedes!

Fool’s mate


My first move was to f3

 your black dwarf on e5 and in my turn, I did g4

I was not expecting this to be!

You went  rolling  on the floor

Too soon even for finally

your queen laughed hahaha:  h4

A fool’s mate this will ever be

and me the fool of chess therefore



entry for jingle poetry potluck

image of chess game from wikipedia

The perfect mother


So far everything is going well

The baby’s fed, the house is nice and clean

And no one knows about nor finds  the bottles

Behind the laundry in the  washing machine

As nobody will try to look for them, and bother

All is well and all is spotless clean

It is ten am and she is still unseen

She takes a second cup of gin

Let her day, her time begin

She is the perfect mother


A mockery of life


Death is a mockery of life

They who have lived it through, are dead

So what about death can be said

 It lingers in the living room after the funeral


They who have lived it through are dead

We do not speak of death too much

It lingers in the living room after the funeral

We try not to think about the lonely grave


We do not speak of death too much

It is always raining in the grave yard

We try not to think about the lonely grave

Where no one seems to be, but only was


It is always raining in the grave yard

Some flowers grow between the tombstones

As nature doesn’t care about it, live or death

Just carry on as usual


Some flowers grow between the tombstones

So what about death can be said

Just carry on as usual

Death is a mockery of life


torn by tears



but they have no reason I can speak of

they just come

quietly  finding  their way

dripping on the floor

and then new tears come


they just are

leaving me empty

with no reason

to speak


No one is like you


no one is like you

no one

your words are not the same

their eyes see things differently

no one says my name

like you did

no one is so dead

as you are



entry for Jingle Thursday rally

Nothing left to say


Words fail me now

They come in drunken  processions

stumble over the threshold

and stare at me unwillingly to help out

Their eyes are red and their noses blue

and I won’t bother to sober them up

or put them back on the barstools

when they fall over

I might even kick them instead


Because what is there left to say

So  words could be of use?

Either way,

you go or stay,

I lose


image problems


I had this image of you
that you painted yourself
that I completed with my imagination
and a golden frame

my fondest memories
of events yet to happen
were in this image
that was supposed to be you

now we have met and at second glance
it is a picture of a too sunny coast
a painting with cracked vernis
and the frame is now falling apart

since I am back the image is spitting
green stuff
and I give it a week
till it’s gone altogether


Unwanted guest


filled with your absence

the house and I wait

both knowing it is everywhere


in the living room it is blocking the telly

and in the bathroom mirror

it is your face not being there

that I see


at night I can hear

your absence soundlessly sneaking up the stairs

claiming the bed

and it won’t stay on your half

grabbing all blankets


your absence is becoming a frequent guest now

demanding attention

keeping me busy

filling the house

till you come back





even dozed off

he is in remote control

he is glad if I make a big issue

out of his small matter

he is a man

in general



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