letters

opening the box, the letters you once wrote
drop out.
all that is left for me to remember
are the white gaps, now pale brown, in which
i make up your thoughts as i presume they were, but the edges
of the pages are darker, and crisp, and fall apart.

reading the past is drinking dust, choking
on every line that has gone, you
are most of all dead in your letters. your eyes
follow me around in the room
as i close the box
for later.

Lived through days

She found swallows which had crashed already dead
And dried flowers which would dust away;
She was breathing death before it was her time

(And then it didn’t come, and she became a hundred)

But there were days as well with too much life
With buttercupslight and lambs still happy for the slaughter,
There were days that might have been forever

In everything uniting she found power,
She read with all her strength as much as had been said,
From every word retrieving evidence
Of a reality and she was not alone.

Trust

Breathe the air unseen
And fit into the water;
The Earth won’t drop you.

Dream the rain, eyes closed,
Hear steps become a river
Where fish go, seabound.

Let your feet touch sand,
Smell light as you walk down
Unseen. Leave for now.

You

In the pearl of the morning
Watching the dew tears
On unfolding Spring

Your face appears in mildly winking
Amongst other past features
Of uncertain times

And I am with you now
Cloud to cloud, blue to blue.
Love your smile.

It will stay with me
Till afternoon rain.

Steve-Hall-who-is-heSomething different from my usual postings.

On Easter a memorial plaque still attached to some piece of wood washed ashore on the beach of Terschelling and we think it might be coming from the UK.

Read here in English about the beachcomber’s find

Looking for relatives. If you happen to know a Steve Hall who died in October 2011 and was 45 years of age, it might be him. Please let us know.

Thank you!

Falsely guided by the moon

Because of fences on the road ahead
We’re kept from danger on the abyss side,
Where friendly moonlight seems to miss our tread,
But we don’t fall to our surprise. We said
We’d never make it – then we may have lied
Because of fences on the road ahead.
We find our courage and are nearly mad,
Forgetting those afore us who have died.
Though friendly moonlight seems to miss our tread,
We shall not fail our goal now we have fled.
But dumb we were to go without a guide
Because the fences on the road ahead
Are weak and take us down, we’ll end up dead.
For us there is no hope. Yes, we were right,
And friendly moonlight seems to miss our tread
As we were wrongly told and falsely led
So there we fall, to deep and far and night,
Because the fences left the road ahead,
And friendly moonlight made us miss our tread.

Amor

From my hand to the paper went my mind,
The ink fled wider than the words, my thoughts
Found space while beaks became a delta,
The poems were a sea of all I wanted you to know.

But your ships would never sail my waters,
And a draught has blown the sheets away,
Last words that never made it to Pompeii.
I hope you made it safe and free.

To start a new year with a new poem and wishing everyone a very good 2017.

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