The pink strands in her black hair turned into dark violet
and her leather suite changed into a shirt of white linen..

the last chapter had begun
The veil between the world became translucent
being lifted far to early:
Beyond the veil - the long cold road to eternerty
                      that nobody wants to walk
  Right into the void
                        where nothing can remain                    
      no white light at the end of the tunnel....
      no welcome from anybody....

Just a fading whisper about her....
....pink into dark violet - leather to linen...

                Echoing - dying  -
                                         SILENCE
                                                         ­       Infinite Void

                              as if she had never existed

                                            nothing but
                                         DARK OBLIVION

between sunset and dawn
at the edge of time
near the fountain, in a crystal garden
that's where you will find me

we will dance in the moonlight
to the sound of frozen stars
and if our souls will happen to meet
I will lift my veil

when you awake I'll be gone
you won't find me twice
but memories of pearls and shells
engraved in your heart


( © Heike Borgard 1987)

Nightfall - time for a walk in the green
silence -  the noisy day has gone to sleep
finally I am on my own - no more avoiding by zig zag runs

I take off my protection mask and a deep breath -
summer air and the scent of a freshly mowed meadow,  
familiar and normal.....

In the  distance a falling stars lights up

and I remember the taste of white clouds  
and the sound of laughing butterflies
                                                     ­                         

Everything will be alright

At night when the moon's shimmering glow
takes the cold and fear of darkness away
when fireflies silently  guide the way for the losts
when mothers softly dandle their babies to sleep
then let yourself float
wrapped into a warm and sheltering bubble
into a world of impossible possibilties
yet tomorrow to conquer reality again
full of hope.

first morning light
sunbeam tickles frozen dew
drying midnight tears




©Heike Borgard 03/2018

old friend again you're shining
over  the sleeping shores
around you stars like diamonds
the velvet sky is yours

you're sparkling on the sea waves
to brighten mermaids' dreams
while long forgotten magic
is reflecting in your beams

my soul longs to be with you
and flies with wings spread wide
all way through time and space
to drink your silvery light.


(© Heike Borgard 2013)

Most poets or writers here have my respect
but some are producing some strange effects
to call just 2 words a poem someone really needs guts
want to know how I call this? I name it -  It's nuts!
Has got 103 likes? Research and you'll detect
He/she liked 804 poems before..
you can start now to flame me but it's a fact.

Have been reading here a lot around
did not click “like” on every poem I found
but those that I liked no matter the subject
was “***” or a “Flower”
made me laugh or think twice or surprised me
with its strong expressive power
and a few, I admit, really touched me inside
Kudos! Poets you can take the pride!

Don't care if I am trendy
perhaps my language is bad and my grammar obscure
Typing errors – if you find some, please take them
Don't give a  a sh*t – they are yours.
Thanks for “likes” that are honest
and for taking your time
should be poetry not Facebook
and now to hell with the rhyme.


(© Moon aka Heike Borgard 2014)

as fortune turned his back on him
and hope got out of sight
the sun eclisped and love escaped
into the fading light
all on his own, betrayed, alone
no one even near
had denied the truth for too long
he stood and froze in fear

His silent screams remained unheard
they just died away
than finally he lost his faith
his whole world turned to grey
Shades of pale, diffuse light
colourless and dim
soundless echoes, ghosts of the past
whispering to him

How could he leave this zone of grey
He started to walk paths of shadow
substance blurred, he went astray
and for every step he stumbled on
he had to give a piece of his soul away

soon he'll be a wraith himself
last tribute left to give was his fear
awakening clearness stroke him hard
this would not be his end – not here

Ravishing beauty, colourful shades
how could he have been so wrong?
ignoring the welcome that twilight did offer
this was the place where he belonged
embraced the twilight, felt libidious power
recreated, completed, transformed
into someone new
but Twilight's kiss demands its own price
Now he'll be haunting you.

***** the wil-'o-the-wisp sadly sat at home
for he was young and much too small
to roam the swamp alone

He wanted to be an elusive light
mysterious, misguiding and haunting the night.
„Oh swamp“ he whined „it all goes so slow
I don't want to stay home – please help me to grow!“

„Shut up, little ones, enough of that weeping“
bubbled the swamp and then started sleeping
„Oh not again“ the old tree moaned  as ***** burst out in tears
and raised his branches left and right
to cover up his ears.

Meanwhile a burglar with Police had a battle
with a big bag of loot he had to skedaddle
into the swamp  and lost the way.

He watched out for a guiding light
but all he found was crying *****
(wil-o'-the whisping really not bright)

„What's that?“ the burglar snidely asked
„a lousy glooming firefly?
can't even light my cigarette
get out of my way  little bug“
and  proceeded to pass by.

This now was too much for *****'s pride
(teenagers often  freak out)
He drew himself to his fullest height
and he shouted loud:
„listen you mean and human thing – I am no dim-lit light!
Beware of the rage of an wil-o'-the wisp!“
and then he run completely wild

„Hear what I will bring to you
first death then pain and sorrow
I'll **** you first then chase you down
for you there's no more tomorrow
I'll lead you into deepest swamp to a puddle of mud
and when you start to drown in it – I'll watch you in cold blood“

(if we were picky in logic and order we surely now have to complain
but let's close an eye for he is still very young – back to the story again)

Inspite all efforts and *****'s threats
the burglar did not catch a word
(wil-o'-the-wisping as language is not very common
and therefore not often heard)

Let's say (to help our ***** a bit)
the burglar was slightly confused
so nothing much happend
until the swamp woke up
and swamp was not amused

„Who dared to disturbe my holy sleep?“
he blubbered with utmost grim
*****'s finger pointed out to the burglar then
and he sheepishly squeaked „that was him!“

Swamp did not hesitate too long
burglar sank into swamp to a place deep and stealthy
(for medical reasons we have to admit  
this can't be considered as healthy)

In the next days ***** did not no more complain
to spend some more time at home
as he learned one thing this very day:
there are many ways that lead to Rome.

(©Heike Borgard 2014)