To wake up without
was the best way
To wake up without
was the best way
If we could fly away
together, you and me,
and take our needed rest
on a sailing ship at sea,
and find a fish to eat,
would we need more,
would we stay there,
or fly back to the shore?
I took these pictures of the “Zeemeeuw” ( “Seagull”, a sailing vessel my son works on) , earlier this month in the harbour of Terschelling
By now I’m sure you have forgotten me,
I on my part, try hard to do the same,
but in silent moments I say your name
and think about our lives, how it should be.
I felt well, while being closer to you,
this nearness showered me with joy and hope,
and gave me courage to go on and cope,
much more than just those silly phone calls do.
But now you have moved on, away from me.
Your phone is dead, the mailman has no mail,
and my autonomy will soon prevail,
back being one, alone, as I shall be.
We were just pedestrians on our way,
both not meant to stop, not meant to stay.
Friends, and your head was resting in my lap.
I wore a dress that Summer: blue, pink rose,
and there was sun, but best thing was that you
were resting in my lap and we were close.
Then we made a child to end the Summer.
My dress became too tight in March to wear.
Your head then found another place to rest
from where you kissed the baby, stroke my hair.
Friends, and we watched all our children play,
a new child living in my lap once more,
and at night I rested on your shoulder,
while little feet would come in through the door.
Loud fell the rain in Summer nights,
friends came by in shady evening hours,
children grew to leave the house one day
and I still wear a blue dress with pink flowers.
Rise and look
put on coat
find warm socks
look for shoes
rain has stopped
oh how nice
it is hot
take off coat
take off socks
it pours now
just give up
go to bed.
You look at me with questions so intense
of matters known, those not to be put lightly
in logic places. Do not try reason.
Feelings, ghosts without a mating season
of their own, let’s deal with them in nightly
hours, dreaming, while our minds never make sense.
I feel you and your thoughts float into mine.
a woven cloth are we together then,
you know exactly of my what and when,
our threads of thoughts may always intertwine.
I hold back nothing, when we are alone,
you open up, there are no guessing games,
we watch the birds without knowing their names,
to us the only meaning is their tone.
We try to keep togetherness and such,
when often you and I are far apart,
too far to feel the beating of your heart
too far to say you matter to me much.
We cherish every moment that we got
together, when we are, and when we’re not.
We rose that day and nothing was the same
the light to start with had a different name,
the smell had altered in the bedroom air
as we had done it, there and everywhere.
Since we had done it, there and everywhere,
you called us lovers, both, and that seemed fair.
We rose together, nothing was the same,
we knew the meaning of the verb: we came.
We could whisper and let our breath be words;
our hearts would hear their meaning anyway.
Although there’s less and less we’d have to say,
we know that goodbye is, when silence hurts.
Say something, just to get me on my way,
to keep me with you while the ferry goes,
and tears are flowing like sea water flows.
We could whisper then, when I leave today.
We could say goodbye and not make a sound,
promises would freeze, linger in the air,
that you would follow soon, and everywhere
is together, forever we’d be bound.
But silence is the bitter proof of end
when words are not enough to make a mend.
What will stay with me most when you are gone:
a whisper on a Winter’s day in snow,
your eyes when you make love to me perhaps,
or how you waved your hand when you would go.
The music that you listened to at nights,
the presence of your body next to mine,
some holidays, some days when we both cried,
the fights we had, the crossing of the line.
No. None of those things will be on my mind,
I shall not want to think of them at all.
What will stay with me after you are gone,
is darkness, staring at an empty wall.
Don’t go before I go as well from here,
your absence is the only thing I fear.
Just a little update: My poem “Tragedy” that I posted here in April, (about a cat falling out of a tree) will be in an anthology called Animal Antics 2012, available in September. The book will be in libraries across the UK and Northern Ireland as well. 🙂 I am pleased.