Archive for January, 2012

Cold surroundings

A layer of frost is hiding you,
cold surface waiting for the Sun
and it gets even colder now.

I wait for better moments.
For now everything’ s on hold,
only patience needed.

my small stone for the River of Stones January 29, see sidebar!


Aging mirrors

When I try to see my face
in the mirror this morning
something seems different.

A new, deep line, never noticed before.
I close my eyes for the facts.

I put on my glasses,
brush my teeth,
brush my hair
and with every action
I feel more gravity in my awareness.

Aging is interesting,
full of surprises.
And it happens to all of us
if we are lucky. Right.

Then I open my eyes
take another look
to get acquainted
with the new, older me.

Although I am grateful for life,
and lines don’t bother me really,
I still am more glad
to realize the new line,
as if my mortality is postponed now,
is a crack in the mirror glass.

Morning flirt

Upon the dune behind the town
I watch the sunshine finding ways
of moving me.

Every second, morning changes
in a rearranged embrace.

Beams through branches,
rooftops shining,
golden linings under clouds.

And no one here to share this,
I am alone and hold my breath
here, where such beauty lies.

If this is all for me, I have only

The day has started well.
The morning flirted with me.


Away from the triangle square,
the fuming Djmaa el fna
where colours blinded me
and sounds echoed centuries
of every day traditions,
I saw these eyes across the narrow street,
and earth, warm sand, now felt under my feet,
was needed badly as a token of reality.

I saw you stare again,
you were the begging child,
whose legs were broken to gain sympathy.

Your life seemed hell to me
but in your eyes reflected Africa, was life.
The smile you gave, showed me no desperation.
Your spirit had not gone, like mine would have.

And never I would go back home
as whole, as all of me.
A part of me stayed there, with you
a part of my own sanity.

But going there is life

How come in parts of happiness I live,
which sometimes hide under a lot of fears
and pop out now and then when I see well,
the meaning lies of being in this world?

If I could find a way remaining there
in peace with whom I am inside, unchanged,
then I achieved the goal I set myself.

How come I am not able to succeed
to do so on my own?Β  I do fall back
at times into my lacking self esteem.
It will take time, but going there is life.

my small stone for today πŸ™‚

Breathing your love

Breathing without thought your love,
like air on crispy Winter mornings
when geese are calling loud above our heads,
my awareness of the better now awakes.
I find this peace in being close to you,
in breathing without thought,
this is enough, this is enough. This is
the moment I have sought.

Train Thinkings

The train is starting to leave the platform. I look outside, the landscape tells me it is colder now.
Across me sits a woman in no mood to talk, a man is reading in a paper. On the front page a picture of a woman with a veil.
Even she is shutting me out.
And so I wonder off in thought.

What does this all mean? Have I shut out myself as well?

To let in myself
from outside me
what will I find
in the corners
of my mind
once I have dropped
my veils for myself?

With my luck, probably a king size mirror.
The thought makes me smile out loud.

The man puts down the paper, the woman starts to talk.
I now see that they are together.
β€œIt is getting colder,” I say, as their eyes have made me their accomplice. And within a minute, we are discussing
climate and the sixties, when Winters were real. But last year was severe as well. Yes it was.

The paper, now redundant, lies open, a picture showing a smiling face.
A winking eye.
They reach their destination.
The paper and I have a long way still to go.

The train shows how we changed the world since then
but do you care much, hidden in your book?
You travel best without having to look
at landscapes being filled with filth of men.
I notice that you lick your lips at times
and watch you smile because of prose you read.

Then there’s a second, where our eyes do meet.
You speak. β€œI don’t like poetry that rhymes,”
you say. β€œDo you?” and I search in my mind
to find an answer that is true yet kind
as you have eyes that make me love this train.
β€œI do at times,” I say, then you read on.
The splendor of the moment now is gone,
the world has changed some more and we have rain.

The train is going slower
due to another train in front of us.
At 3 pm, it is already getting darker.
In the window I see myself, but older now.
So much to think about
of how lucky, glad I feel
and why it is that I am happy;
a word no poet ever seems to use.
Counting my blessings,
not leaving you out by the way,
I watch the grey turn into black.
Still so glad I live, a feeling
too mundane for poetry?

I’ve known times that were not really mine,
when I couldn’t live my own life.
All it took to change, was stepping out
of stupid situations, getting no where.

The train is speeding up
and my thoughts are slowing down
into the deeper meaning
of acceptance.



This is an experiment: I have combined 2 poems and a “prosety” piece into one. The prosety part is new, the poems were published here earlier : “Strangers on the train”, Jan. 22, and “Accepting some delay” Dec. 2. Please let me know what you think! πŸ™‚

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