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Fey Aug 16
It's a dark place again,
where humans lay their 9 to 5 hands
on concrete dreams for them to dare plan
but never to achieve,
for even a glimpse of a moment,
for the fracture of a canvas with no end.

© fey (16/08/24)
Fey Jul 20
Under the moon's soft, silvery glow,
A white spider weaves its porcelain thread,
Amidst lavender blooms that gently sway,
In the night's tender breath, delicately spread.

Elegant limbs trace a whispered dance,
Across petals that dream of the Lethe's serene flow,
A river of forgetting, where old sorrows fade,
Yet here, in this garden, memories gently grow.

Each movement is a testament to nature's grace,
In the lavender's embrace, a tranquil romance,
Where time pauses, and the heart finds rest,
As the white spider spins its eternal trance.

© fey (20/07/24)
Fey Jul 6
I tint your eyes in hues of an auburn sky,
set aflame a starling's wings, flapping lazily in delight.

You are my sunset, a gentle murmur from within,
I will see you again, when the sunken snow drops return back in spring.

© fey (06/07/24)
Fey Jun 15
In the garden, roses bloom,
Casting shadows, scenting gloom,
Petals whisper, colors gleam,
In their beauty, lies a dream.

Life's grand tale in blooms unfolds,
Each rose a story softly told,
From bud to blossom, swift to fade,
In their essence, truth displayed.

Thorns remind of trials faced,
Yet in pain, pure grace is traced,
Life, like roses, sweet and brief,
Balanced between joy and grief.

Morning dew and evening light,
Kiss the roses, pure delight,
Cycles spin, time flows and flows,
In each moment, wisdom grows.

In their fragrance, love resides,
In their bloom, all time abides,
Roses teach us, life is this –
A fleeting, fragrant, tender kiss.

© fey (15/06/24)
Fey Jun 14
In a land of poets, thinkers too,
Where words resound, both deep and true,
Where spirits shine, with gleaming hue,
In Weimar, Heidelberg and Rhine anew.
Where forests whisper, rivers glide,
From Alpine heights to the sea’s side,
Where cities grow, where markets bide,
And bridges grace the Spree with pride.

But beneath all the glitz and striving,
A shadow grows, cold and conniving,
A poison seeks our hearts depriving,
A hate that sets divisions thriving.
The stranger, who as guest has come,
With hopeful gaze and weary thumb,
Feels the unwelcome, harsh and numb,
The chilly breath that words become.

Where once diversity was hailed,
Where neighborly strength always prevailed,
Now fear and anger have assailed,
A ghost that in the streets has wailed.
Remember we, what we once were,
A land being built by hands together,
Through hospitality, we once were sure,
In brotherhood, a bond to weather.

Let us raise our voices high,
Against the hate that seeks to pry,
For a united life to vie,
For humanity and a hopeful sky.
For Germany is not hate and split,
Not fear and enmity’s dark pit,
It's the power of reform unlit,
It’s the bridge to times that fit.

A land of light and darkest hours,
That always sees the morrow’s flowers,
In us, in love's enduring powers,
There blooms the hope, there springs the towers.
So let us stand, so let us fight,
For a united land, in unity's light,
For all people, far and near,
For peace and freedom; humanity clear.

© fey (14/06/24)
Fey Jun 8
I buried your smile beneath the rose garden,
for when the buds pick on the cry of the purple martin,
you'll be there,
never apart in
the winter-y longing, so strong, an
easy way for the dreaming soil to catch wrens,
you prolonged underneath, before me,
before us, before the rain-drenched, silvery shining stems
for all the world to catch, for all the prying eyes to see.

So let me water your gentle dimples, where the petals fimble.
Because I love you,
and I love our messy rose garden,
alluring bees, always keeping them from starving.

© fey (08/06/24)
Fey Jun 6
In the floral trio of the noble honeysuckle,
a honeydewed sound unfolds in your place so subtle;
and when the cat warms its mosaic fur's bundle,
the carpenter bee's bold hum sparks 'midst magenta blossoms humble.

Midnight-black violet cascades,
in its mien, the feline face, serene and staid;
the last ice palaces would here ignite,
as dragonflies rose from jagged winter heights.

© fey (06/06/24)
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