I've been wandering this world.
Wandering around, in my thoughts,
going anywhere I wanted.

Then I met you, my friend,
and you taught my anything,
anything that came into your mind:

Like teaching how to love life
and how to appreciate it.
How to go on when life seems bad.

Then you told me about love,
about being in love, loving someone
and the difference between.

I asked how you knew this difference
and you answered that anyone could know.
That one only has to get to know people
to find out what it is.

Yet I still don't know what you meant.
Not exactly, anyway.
I understand a tiny bit, but not all.
Just because I'm too afraid
to try and get to know people...

After love, friendship was the subject.
According to your words,
a true friend will always stay by your side.

That made me start to wonder
if that could be the reason that you never,
never recoiled from my frozen heart.
The reason you started teaching me.

But as I get to know you, more and more,
I am starting to believe
that I found the difference,
this difference between loving
and being in love.

I found out that my heart...
That it's not as frozen as it once was.
I think that's because of you;
you and you teaching me about life.

I've loved you, like I would love a sibling.
And you kept going on with teaching,
with being my teacher,
and that opened my eyes and heart.

Now I definitely know the difference,
this difference you told me about.
I know I loved you as family, a close friend,
and now I know
that I'm in love with you.

Over there I see
what seems to be
a little mushroom.
Or is it?

It's not very big
and it's not very special,
actually a little plain.
Right?

Wait, what is that?
That looks like a door,
and is that a shed?
What's this?

That there must be
some kind of hinge,
wonder what it's for?
Can I open it?

This special mushroom,
it even has a chimney
and a set of stairs.
Oh how sweet!

There is some
tiny furniture
and a tiny clock.
Where'd you get this?

Inside there are
two grey mice,
A tiny baby and a mom.
They're very cute!

Now, let's close this
special mushroom home
and leave the mice in peace.
*It's a lovely ornament.

When my youngest brother was born,
I was angry at him before he'd uttered a word.
I was as furious as a little six year old could be,
because he turned out to not be a girl.

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.

~
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.
~

White, cold,
wet and crispy.
For skiing
and making snowmen.

The paint on my paintbrush
may have already dried,

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

Rain, lightning and thunder.

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

With sloppy handwriting

                   you can still share

                                many inspiring words.

Today, I drove towards the sunrise.
As the sun drew a rainbow in the sky
the world was painted in beautiful hues.
An idyllic sight I very much enjoyed.

As I drove towards the sunrise,
the sun changed faces.
From red to orange,
from orange to yellow
and all the colours in between.

While driving towards the sunrise
I would not, could not, stop looking
at all the beauty that surrounded me.
The world was peaceful, with a slight touch
of morning dew covering the earth.

Today, I drove towards the sunrise
and when it was over, too soon,
when the sun was high and yellow,
my only wish was that I could see
this gorgeous sight every single day.

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

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.

Imagination,

without it, the world would be
nothing but empty.

His voice is like no relaxation
that I ever experienced before.
Just a few syllables and...
****! I'm already gone.

Do you hate having a headache?
Why don’t you try a heartache?
Pain in the head’s nothing,
not in comparison with pain in the heart.

One can’t take an aspirin to **** the pain,
it’s useless to wait till it’s over,
and it’s hard to learn to live with it.

Please stop complaining about your headache.
I would love to have it, you know,
but only if you’d take my pain.

For someone affected me with heartache
and this is not very nice to experience.
’cause it has my attention locked on it;

I seem not to be able,
to concentrate on something else.
My concentration span has never been so large.

Or so small,
as the concentration always returns to my heart...
with everything I do, no matter what.

I can’t comprehend why you complain,
complain about this headache of yours.
Maybe it’s logical; you never had pain in your heart
and thus you have naught to compare the pain..

I should be happy for you, that you don’t.
And I’ll try to be, yet I don’t know if it’ll work.
There’s a higher chance, that I’ll envy you,
just because you don’t know what this pain is…

And please try to keep it that way.
Nobody would want this pain.
Everyone who has it, wishes it away.
’cause they can’t handle it,
and they know no one else can ..

I walk along the endless shores,
trying to decide whether or not
I should plunge into the depths
of what this world has to offer.

As I step upon the grains of time,
one step more sure than the other,
I wonder what life will bring me
if I continue following this path.

The timeless beach takes me closer
to the next journey across time.
The water is calm and inviting, here,
and I’m curious to know what’s beyond.

The seas of the world are full,
filled with opportunities and chance.
I hesitate to take my lifeboat
to where Life is most unsure.

While the Seas of Life are disturbed
by storms of many lives competing,
I stay afloat closer to quiet shores
where life is still, in harmony with Nature.

Yet, when I meet another Life,
one who’ll guide me along, safely,
I know I’ll follow without a doubt,
as we’re stronger with the two of us.

Together, we’ll cross Life’s oceans
and journey with purpose to our goal.
We’ll share lifeboats and experience
until we reach the end, where we’ll grow old.

Cycles of life fill the world
and they amaze me
time and time again,
yet I cannot escape my own,
trapped as I am in a
continuously changing body.

My mind struggles with
the acceptance of my pain,
the necessity of the frustration,
knowing it will all return
until the final cycle wanes,
and till then I'll suffer.

I wish mine could be
as beautiful as the seasons,
but it is just an ugly mess.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

The clock is softly ticking
the whole morning away,

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

It's that time
of the year again.
Can you feel the difference?
A fire burning
in the hearth,
cozy candles burning

We're all cuddled up
on the couch,
covered in a warm blanket.
Drinking hot tea,
savouring the heat,
thankful for the beverage.

Wearing two pairs
of pajama pants,
'cause otherwise it's too frisky.
The weather's cold'n'wet
but inside we are,
warm, dry and cozy.

Sitting together
while talking softly,
now and again
exchanging a kiss.
Seasons of rain and snow
brings us even closer.

I wonder why that one half
of my still sleeping mind
has the audacity to say to my bladder:

"You're acting silly, there's no need
to find this bathroom of yours,
we all should just keep sleeping.
No, there's no need to hurry,
you're acting like a child.
You shouldn't seek attention like this.
Just go back to sleep,"

while I just,
really really really badly,
need to take a ***.

Flock of birds flies high,

                 Seems like flowery pollen

                                   carried by the wind.

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

The mystery of life leaves me to ponder how
something so exquisite, per chance, exists
and how it out of such exquisiteness consists.
To Mother Nature I sincerely bow,
oh, how I admire her logic and her twists.

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.

Our small droplet friend
is ****** in by a root
and helps a plant grow
another inch to the sky.

Storms are inside,
they come and go.
Leave me alone
But no, again
each time they come.
I feel helpless.

Tears sometimes pour,
sometimes drizzle,
flowing slowly
to a near stop.
Not fully, but
never-ending.

Just waiting, still,
to flow again
when time is right.
Not right for me,
never for me.
Only for them.

For their release.
They who hunt me,
never let go.
They bring the storms
with their salt tears.
I'm powerless.

No calming down,
not completely.
I wish I could,
but I cannot.
They won't let me.
Always present.

In the back of
my numb, tired mind,
the emotions
keep me on edge.
Leave me alone
but, no, they won't.

Summer
garden work:
connecting with Earth.
Time for a break,
sweaty.

Lying awake half the night because of a terrible itch.

~
brush
               brush
                                brush

Up and down the wall.
For a long stroke, the key
is making yourself as tall
as you can possibly be.

spatter
               spatter
                                spatter

Take care not to spill
as cleaning it is a fret,
it has its own will,
even more so when it's wet.

brush
               brush
                                brush

Now it's almost done,
there're no more walls to do.
Though the paint still has won
as we're all coloured too.

Leaves     rustling       in             the                 wind
rustling    makes        quiet        noise             ominously
in              quiet           motion    they're           moving
the            noise           they're    making's        everywhere
wind        ominously  movi­ng  everywhere   possible

Far above the barren land
and the bare, grey trees,
the sun rises and paints
warm colours on the sky.

Even though you share your name with many,
to me you will always be the only one.
Even though you mightn't think yourself special,
you will always be the only one I want.
And when you say you don't deserve me,
I'll tell you again how much I love you.
Even though you never say it back,
I do know how much you care.
Even though people don't expect our us to last,
we'll surely make it through.
Even though you may not believe me,
I will always hold on to you.
Even though we're contradicting,
you and me were made to be.

I believe that in Spring
the morning air tastes
like sweet honey.
Why else would all babies
be born in this season,
if not for the nutritious air?

Our dog was the best,
full of joy and so sweet.
It's too bad that you and him
can no longer meet.

He passed away recently,
it's been almost half a year,
but still I can't help crying
all these new tears.

He already had health problems
for quite a long time,
yet he kept going strong
as if he was in his prime.

Three months before his death,
in our lives a pair of ladies entered.
He didn't like them at first,
but eventually he surrendered.

He knew we'd be guarded
even after he'd gone.
That's when he gave in
and when the illness won.

The girls will stand guard
as our Ollie once would,
but holding him close again,
is what I wish I could.

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.

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.