Posts tagged ‘poetry’

First thought of you

My first thought of you
is a nearly dead fish
stuck on a Sunday
in the fishing net
of a vessel in port,
drowning in air,
looking back
at where the sea
was his home
while the clean-shaven fisherman
is in church listening
to the preacher’s story
about Simon
a fisherman as well
and the same name too,
he almost feels holy
with pride blushing cheeks
while in his net
a fish dies for nothing.
My first thought of you
is that nearly dead fish.

Wall paper bites man

I kept entering, feeling those
Old wooden floorboards under my feet,
Bringing me back from the outside
Where birds flew right through me,
While the wall paper bit you to pieces.

Unseen I had stood in front of the window
Looking in, watching us being apart
In black reflections until the door opened.
Warmth and promise came to approach me and so
I kept entering, feeling those.

Man in my street

With every church clock bang further from faith
he rises to absorb the Sunday morning,
reading the paper to comment the world
while his old dog sighs and waits patiently
like once his wife did, before she disappeared
into the fading wallpaper.

After the ringing of the bell the silence
Becomes too much for him to bear
And his own voice has nothing to say anymore.
He leaves the house to take the dog for a walk;
At that moment rain starts to pour and will be pouring
Till the moment he returns home. His dog knows this.

Last performance

We waited for the evening bird to sing
Away our weary thoughts, while holding hands.
The bird was late, we thought it lingering
Nearby, but silent, as it might have other plans.

Some shots were heard of a hunting man’s gun
Who must have aimed at our singing bird
As nothing happened and the night went on
Without its lovely music to be heard.

Then, there the singing started in the tree
When morning came along. We were content.
So lovely was his song for you and me.
He gave his best a while and then he went.

I found the bird with open eyes but dead
That morning, in cold rain and greyish light.
A bullet had destroyed its lovely head.
Its last song had been ours that very night.

The hunter died within a week from then.
No one could understand his sudden death.
In days he had become a weak old man
who spit out feathers taking his last breath.


Waking up

This could be yesterday, for all I know
Closing my eyes as I don’t want to learn
New thoughts meandering in speeding flow:
Affection should not be something to earn.

Could I ask you to make the fire burn,
put the kettle on when you go down below,
ask anything from you at all? I yearn
for more affection but I can not show.

I hear your heavy footsteps as you go
From dark and loud till light, of no concern
To me as I sleep on, and shall be so
Deeply at peace awaiting your return.

Has this been today now or tomorrow?
Have hours passed since we were to adjourn?
The bed is cold and empty in its sorrow.
I feel I want you badly as I turn.

The list

Why are we to forget and what not so:
You make a list with pro’s and con’s, both sides
Have meanings clash, as if the world collides
With facts from outer space when we let go.

I have forgotten age. Maybe it hides.
Why are we to forget and what not so:
A Winter’s night, a lovely time, the snow,
Or how we both felt during evening rides.

Have meanings clash! As if the world collides
With things, exceptional enough. Don’t know.
Now I don’t care if such a list misguides
Why we are to forget and what not so.

Some things are better gone than make us low
In better, worse, the high and lower tides
Have meanings clash, as if the world collides
If we arrange our minds with facts in row.

Now all has been errased, and that divides
Why we are to forget and what not so
Have meanings clash, as if the world collides.

Jumping at sunset

Me leaping abysses between your words
While nothing happens above surface, yet
We haven’t had the time to find regret.
Till we’ll both fall, we wait for when it hurts.

In vacuumed time let’s think of how we met:
Me, leaping abysses between your words,
you listened to the singing of the birds,
Time on our hands, the deep no threat.

While nothing happens above surface yet,
The cliff shall wait, the waves seem nervous herds
Of wolves claiming our past, they won’t forget
Me leaping abysses between your words.

We hear the surf sing in harmonic thirds
Stand, unprepared to watch the sun go set
While nothing happens above surface yet
The meanings of our love phrases – absurds.

We jump into conclusions as I let
Me leap the abysses between your words
While nothing happens above surface. Yet.


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