The paint on my paintbrush
may have already dried,

but remember, I did not leave you,
even though I died.

I'm wiggling my toes like mad
and my eyes continuously move
around the room nervously.
I wave my arms like I'm crazy
and I keep asking myself, why?
There's no way I can sit still
for the entire eternity of an hour...
A freaking hour for each layer.
Oh, ****, why was I so stupid,
why did I want to paint my nails?

Mankind found many ways
to keep warm when it's cold.
Burning wood in a fire,
burning coal in a stove
and then burning gas, too.
There's central heating now,
even showers heat water themselves.
and don't forget underfloor heating.
But lately, all I desperately want,
during the cold days late in the year,
is heating in my toilet seat.

The dark rainclouds
chase away daylight...

Hours earlier than usual.

The clock is softly ticking
the whole morning away,

as time continues to pass on
into the afternoon and future.

The little girl never looked into the mirror.
'They call me names,' she thought,
'and there must be a reason.'
She guessed she was ugly, hideous to see,
why else would they turn their eyes away?
So she didn't bother to see her reflection
and avoided all mirrors for years.

The little girl was afraid of the scale.
'They call me names,' she thought,
'and there must be a reason.'
She realized she must be too fat,
why else would they all ignore her?
So the scales suffered the same fate
as the mirrors throughout the years.

The little girl didn't care for friends.
No one stood by her for very long,
there was no reason to miss them.
She thought she wasn't nice enough,
otherwise they'd surely stay with her.
So a high and a strong wall was built
to protect her feelings during each year.

After years and years the older girl found some courage
to look into one of those dreadful mirrors
and her reflection gave her a nasty shock.
As for all these years she hadn't cared for herself
and her unkempt outer self hid all her inner beauty.
'I truly am an ugly person,' was all she could think,
and she decided she would stop caring.

The little girl grew up hating herself
and no one ever noticed her turmoil.
She stopped caring about how she looked
and just showered and dressed every day
as if she wasn't any special at all.
But her inner beauty struck all around
and everyone wondered why she was so modest.

Rain, lightning and thunder.

Let's put on some music,
curl up on the couch together
and pretend the sun's shining.

Sometimes the dark
threatens to overwhelm,
it comes ever closer
trying to consume us.

Darkness and shadows
are always around,
no matter where we go
and what we do.

The black abyss will
always try to capture us,
try to lure us into egoism,
to tension and stress.

Thoughts might go crazy,
raving around in your head
and scaring away Reason,
while welcoming Chaos.

The mouth exclaiming
hurtful words and phrases
we usually never
even bother to think of.

The ears twist sounds
and hear only attacks,
the mind not understanding
that someone wants to help.

Body is locked down,
all muscles tensed,
ready for defense
but also ready to strike.


Beware of falling
into the far depths
of the black darkness.

Beware of the shadows
which slowly grow
in your delicate heart.

Beware of nurturing
Chaos instead of Reason
in your ever changing mind.

Remember the Love.

He was so many things.

A man
An artist
An actor
A lover
A friend

But above all
he was a musician,
and a great one as well.

It's time to start
gathering his work
instead of only listening
to dad's collection.

A single tear
is in the corner
of my right eye.

It feels like
it's on repeat.
Been there before.

When exactly
I don't know,
does it matter?

Too often I read
of tragedy and
of things gone wrong.

When I do,
the tear returns
to travel down.

Just the one tear
showing emotion
and heartbreak.

Letting the world
know that something
touched my heart.

Letting people know
that my heart aches
for those hurt.

Letting them know
I feel for them
and I'm there for them.

There's a single tear,
it's in the corner
of my right eye.

It sends a message:
I care, I'll help,
you're not alone...
                ~

I         can
      only, truly      r  e   l a  x

whenIknowhe's

...home...

The horrifying moment
                when you realize
           you're slowly
starting to catch a cold.

Feeling tired all week,
     thinking you didn't sleep enough.
              But now thoughts are jumbled
   and your nose starts feeling weird.

  A vague ache
now is in your throat
           and you know it:
    a cold is on its way.

Whenever I say
that my home
is wherever he is,

he replies
that his home
is wherever I am.

Our home is everywhere,
as long as we're together.

The grass is covered,

with
many mini mushrooms,

tiny umbrellas.

With sloppy handwriting

                   you can still share

                                many inspiring words.

The light drizzle of
the raindrops is comforting
to my ears and mind.
It's just the relaxation
I desperately needed.

The crowd parts in front of me
And I wonder, What’s going on?

I hear a child calling out,
“Mommy, look! They’re clowns,
with very, very, very, very long legs!”

The child points a finger
and I look in the pointed direction.
Two people in brightly coloured costumes
make their way through the crowd.

Their long legs created by stilts
and their arms also extended,
both covered in extra-long cloth.

The crowd is enchanted
by their bright appearance,
their long sleeves moving elaborately.

When October finally arrives,
it suddenly feels
as if autumn has really started.

September suddenly
didn't seem so harsh
and summer seems so far away.

And you realize there's
only two months left
before winter kicks in.

I want to write.
Another poem
or maybe one of my stories.

I want to do something.
Take a walk,
do something fun.
Enjoy the sun.

I wonder
when he'll come home.
Hopefully soon.
I miss him already.

I like living together with him.
Has it only been five months?
Oh my... Feels like forever.
Glad we found our little place.

Hm, we need to finish
our kitchen, soon.
Or maybe do the garden first,
before winter sets in.

Winter? Oh no, already?
I would like some more summer...
Please, fall, go away
and take winter with you.

Even though
I do like the snow.
I just don't like
feeling cold all day.

I spontaneously decide
to get on my bike
and cycle to the grocery store.

I didn't think twice,
sometimes you don't need to,
intuition often works fine.
I grab my purse,
take my bicycle out the shed
and go on my way.

It feels like flying sky high:
the wind blowing hard in my back,
(force five)
pushing me along the road.
The cars pass me,
also seemingly without effort.
The shadows of the clouds
speedily move ahead of me.

After a while, I leave the green sea
of the countryside behind me,
as I turn on a path that runs
between two lines of trees.

An old man is on a walk
inside the peacefulness of the trees,
enjoying some time alone.
Once I leave this green corridor,
with a tall bridge in between,
I soon, maybe too soon, arrive in town.

Into the grocery store,
get what I need,
get in line to pay
and get back on my bike.
Time to go home.

Instead of making me happy
and blowing in my back,
the wind now blows in my face.
The muscles in my legs
soon start complaining,
thinking they work too hard.

In the green corridor,
I pass a mother
walking with her child
and taking out the dog.

Up the bridge again,
this time so much harder
to cycle upwards.
But also, much more satisfying
to not push the pedals
and still move forward
when you're on your way down.

This time round I need a few breaks,
as the wind causes my nose to run
and I need to use some tissues.

Out on the plains again,
I pass a woman
who's playing with her dog,
practicing its tricks
and playing with a ball.

I pass a man
cycling in the opposite direction,
the wind now in his back.
I feel jealous.

Finally some respite
as I cycle through a village.
The houses soften the wind.
But when the village ends,
the wind seems to blow
much harder than before.

I now envy all the drivers
in their cars, passing me easily.
As I approach the last turn in the road
I realize I don't care
that the wind tries to ******* off my bike.
*I'm almost home.

There once lived a girl in New York,
she really enjoyed eating pork.
Her friends were disgusted
that she so lusted
after eating pork without a fork.

The blue sky is clear
with fluffy, white clouds floating
and the sun shining.
Rain passed into the distance,
the day seems to start out fine.

There's a tree outside,
it's right beside the window
of my study room.
The wind blows hard and it moves
the tree with scary, loud gusts.

~
Procrastination, it's everyone's least favourite word.
Running around, doing a great many things, but
Of course not that what they were supposed to do.
College might've given you much homework,
Reading book X; chapters two, five and six,
And writing a paper of a thousand words...
So students rather start doing something else.
The house wife might have this problem too,
If cleaning isn't her favourite thing to do.
No, watching the telly is much more fun
And reading a book is also a lot easier
Than walking around the house
In a big frenzy, trying to tidy every room.
Oh, procrastination, many people use you,  
Not that they like you, no way.
~

It calms the senses
and takes you away
to many different places
and sensations.

It can put you to sleep
after a long and tiring day
and it will guide
you through your dreams.

It can bring you together
with the ones you love,
as it brings unity.
Unity of the mind, heart and soul.

Ah, blessed is the sound of music.

dusk's               slowly          approaching         the           world
slowly              fading           is                           day’s        light
approaching    is                  men’s                    rest           dutily
the                    day’s            rest              ­         finally        moved
world               light            dutily                    moved       around

There once was a man in Kentucky
who liked sitting up in a tall tree.
But the neighbours, they take
bets on if he'll  break
the same way as  old Humpty Dumpty.

Being rich
doesn't make you happy.
But...
Being poor
doesn't make you happy either.

What does bring happiness
is having enough money
to get by each month.

Not too little,
not too much
but just enough,
with a little to spare,
so you'll have no worries.

When a person
writes tons of poems,
it doesn't necessarily mean
he actually is a poet.

A poet isn't a poet
just because he wrote a poem,
as there's so much more
to being poetical.


As a poet
you can see
all the beauty in life,
and you always know
how to find the right words
for describing something.

Allow yourself to see beauty.


As a poet
you use space
to work out things best.
You don't need to understand
every single little detail
to derive a message.

Give yourself enough space.


As a poet
you need time
as you use time to think.
Poets do not act in a rush,
we think eveything through
so the end result will be perfect.

Don't live in haste.


As a poet...
There is so much more.
See the beauty,
give yourself time and space,
and the chance to flourish.

There's a slight pressure
behind my closed eyelids
and I'm desperately trying
to will it away. Be gone!

The pressure increases
as the water slowly grows
and tears softly push the
edge of where my lids meet.

Go away, you feelings,
you've become too much
for me to handle, now...
I need some rest, please.

The emotional wave persists
and some tears squeeze
their salty way through
my still closed eyelids.

As some kind of great waterfall
the emotions start falling down
on me and I break after all,
the tears cascading down my cheeks.

The wind moves through the trees,
taking the time to play with every leaf.
Branches move up and down
to the rhythm of the wind.
The leaves ruffle to and fro,
as if, desperately, trying to get away.

The falling rain teases the tree.
Rain drops dance among the branches,
travelling from one leaf to the next
until they finally reach the ground
to fertilize the sun-dried soil.

Remember, when the sky cries
it does so out of happiness,
as it offers to Mother Earth
another chance to grow again.

The day was long,
after a night too short,
but I am on my way.

The hours dragged
and the seconds crawled,
but I am on my way.

It felt like an eternity,
this short time I was gone,
but I am on my way.

This journey seems to
go on, on and on and on,
but I am on my way.

Just a little bit more
and you're done waiting,
as I am on my way.

Can you see me coming?

There's something bubbly
going on inside of me...
It's a happy feeling, yes,
because of all of you, no less.

All dressed and
breakfast's finished,
it's time to start
a whole new day.

But...
Why is everything so fuzzy?
Oh, right.
Forgot my glasses.

"I dreamt
of malls in malls,

and it was awesome."

No one is stupid.

Everyone has a profession,
So everyone is an expert
in something.

No one is dumb.

Everyone is different,
So everyone is intelligent
in his or her own way.

There are no stupid
or dumb people.

There are only millions
of different people
and we all should accept
each other the way we are.

My creative moments
are when...

I lie down to sleep.

Take a bite...

And
let the rich taste
encase you.

When they did a lot:

cooking, laundry, homework and
tidying their room.