Lay your head on my shoulder and wait
For now the first birds sing
And we won’t interfere
Let’s listen, let’s hear
Just you and me and morning sun
A day beginning in a dream
All the past behind us
Will not interfere
From pain to you
From past to future
To a place we were before
Forever loving, forever more.
Lay your head
On my shoulder and let me
Make you safe. Now I know you
And you know me also. Now
We move on, nothing less, only more.
There we are in court, not even close
by the way our thoughts have taken over
and all the years we lived have spoken,
as guessing jury members in an unfair trial,
as barristers who bribed the witnesses and
tampered with the proof.
Not even close we are now,
but we almost could have been.
Life made us careful
and prosecutors, disguised as facts,
And of course we both are right,
as we investigated our own fears,
and we are judges too,
thinking we know right from wrong,
we know to be careful and suspicious,
to listen to our instincts for signs of disturbances
and of course we are right
to let our closeness slip in the final verdict.
Heads will roll.
But we can also ignore the evidence, and grow
above ourselves in the process, bailing each other out,
for together we would not be two times one prisoner
in separate death row cells.
Our thoughts might move closer and we could plea to free us,
to be who we are, better and in peace. If we want, we can convince.
It is our only freedom. To be sentenced not guilty,
moving away from our fears.
Meeting at the gate, together leaving the court of justice behind.
My 5th English poetry anthology, published by Winter Goose Publishing, is out now! As kindle edition and in print. 144 pages.
“The Balance” on Amazon
she feels the thought as physical,
a growth under her skin, it glows in her bones,
yet it occupies the room she sleeps in,
walks with her and keeps her company
while her mind wanders off to the day.
the thought lives in her arms and wants to possess her,
and she lets it enter, time after time.
it enters, stays and yet enters in new proportions,
new appearances – this overwhelming thought
that she could be herself again, and finally be safe.
(don’t ask 🙂 )
I am proud to announce that my poetry anthology , published by Winter Goose Publishing and titled “The Balance” will be released on April 18 this year, both paper and e-book. The ebook version can already be preordered through Amazon (only 5 $ ! A steal! 🙂 )
“Ina’s poetry will make you laugh, will make you cry, and will make you gasp in recognition as a particular poem speaks directly to you. She writes novels in Dutch, her native language, and poetry in English. Her love of the English language apparent in her usage of it. She is not afraid to expose her heart as she uses experiences her own life—her poetry often being an attempt to find meaning from the apparently inexplicable. Her books make ideal bedtime companions allowing you to reflect on your own life.”
“Acclaimed poet Ina Schroders-Zeeders produces poems full of a distinctive and subtle expression, examining emotions stirred in everyday life, and in this new book life gives us further insight into her life, and that delicate view and understanding which make her such a unique voice. With her beautifully distilled phrases Ina explores her interest in the way emotions interact with landscape and everyday rhythms, taking us under the surface of the apparently unremarkable event to reveal the wonders therein. The book is a treasure trove of insights.”
Amazon The Balance (pre-order e-book)
On a personal note:
This book is a very emotional one for me, as the time I was writing it and the time after, my life has been pretty much in turmoil. And it still is I suppose. Emotions of grief and mistakes, hope and reality can be a lot to deal with. Sometimes sadness rules, but I like to be optimistic and think of the good in myself and others.
I hope to find the balance in my life and that I shall be ‘Moving on’ which happens to be the title of the next anthology later this year. (“The Balance” and “Moving on” are in fact sort of twins.)
The pen, once used to keep the past from dying,
rests, but was a bullet in slow motion once,
a splendid and a silent friend, companion
in hours of haste, writing words before the fall.
The notes are crumbling in their rest, and ink has dried,
the bullet stopped, the writer gone to dust and rotten,
his words, his passion and his legacy
are now forgotten, only the pen remembers all.
This is what the new anthology will look like. 🙂
And these are my other athologies in English: