Cut off my limbs, torn out my heart –
no it feels worse, a toothache rotting into bone.
Alone, a borrowed dog, a caged blue bird and me.
You should not, but you do: you kindly fade away,
so out of reach, beyond control,
your legacy keeps changing colours.
Sometimes I think you spoke
of love in Spanish.
I need to grow new arms, new legs, new memories,
become a newer creature.
Apart from you I’m not myself it seems.
Saturday 28 May we had a wonderful time in Midsland, Terschelling, performing and reading poetry. And two wonderful musicians (not in the photo) accompanied the poems.
The chair, your pillow:
all is empty and time moves on
discriminating all beauty
but slower than life. Days have no end.
The whisper shell is silent
and the sea withdraws
to show death in the sand.
I am your widow, no
still your wife aware of you.
There is no possible denial.
Yet, where are you now?
Where is your soul and where am I?
We stand on both sides
of a fence
and you walk on
as I can not
and you can’t stay
and I can not.
And from the sea
some footprints go
into the past.
and further on.
Roads book 2 Winter Goose Publishing
Today would have been Toussaint’s 68th birthday. Every moment of the day I miss him but I want to try to live on. So I proudly announce the release of Roads book 2.
Please follow the link!
What you can see in raw light is more than a wishful thought,
A mere bribery of the mind and a dream never sought.
The yellow bulb is no light by itself but it gives
The thought you can see, in what stays, in what lives.
Over sea the moon is a lamp but it’s only reflecting the Sun.
Hear the sound of the night and the song of the birds:
Memories shared, told with no words.
A fine day it was when the light has been kind,
Morning and evening, thoughts like flames of the mind,
Pictures were taken and now all is done,
Everyone’s sleeping. The shadows move on.
Raw light is fading as hours go by,
Emerging – the dreams, like birds – how they fly.
I walked, a stranger in the early day,
The moon so full no lamp light needed,
A bird was singing as I stepped outside.
The road bricks shone and mirrored where I found my way,
Above me all seemed velvet, beaded,
The Sun rose as to end a fine indigo night.
As I returned, the light had changed to red,
The Moon was gone and others rose now,
Faint, haunting lamp lights flickered in a stranger place.
It was too late to go back to my bed,
Too soon to do the things I know how,
And in the mirror there was someone else’s face.
In only 12 days my new poetry book, in Dutch this time, called “Op weg naar het niets” will be released. For this to happen the publisher Boeskscout needs emailadresses to send a one time only promomail. I need 14 more adresses at this point, to be send to my email I.Schroders@gmail.com There has to be this sentence in the mail:
” Ik geef toestemming voor gebruik van mijn mailadres voor het toezenden van een eenmalige promotiemailing. ”
(I give permission for the use of my emailadress for sending a one-time only promotionmail)
Of course this does not mean you will have to buy the book it is only for the promo.
I would be so much obliged! xxx