Transitions are conflicting,
they cause a war inside me;
there's happiness yet sadness
for whatever might come to be.

The loss felt when I let go
of that which will disappear
might consume me, painfully,
but I will endure, don't fear.

It's time to face the changes
and ignore all of the doubts,
as better times wait ahead,
I know I'll be fine without.

Who knows how long it will take?
The path could be tough and long,
but it won't matter really,
'cause I know that I am strong,

To have some more focus
would truly be a blessing..

Distracted way too easily,
as per usual.

Mind is still turned off,
body is half asleep.
Touches seem to linger
for an eternity.

Your lips press on my cheeks,
one time for each.
I can still feel your kisses
minutes after you've left.

Your hand moves through
the hair on my sleepy head.
I can still feel your fingers
tenderly moving away.

I know I could come with you,
go downstairs, have breakfast,
hold your hand, hug you
and then see you off.

Yet I don't want to come,
it's selfish, I know.
I'd much rather feel this,
I want to feel your goodbye.

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.

There is only restlessness
'cause I want to move forward,
alas, I am limited
by the hours in the day.

Meanwhile I drown in chaos
as thoughts jumble together
and I struggle endlessly
lest they will drag me astray.

Deep inside my soul worries,
a tiny spark crying out,
can our body survive this
or will we both fade away?

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.

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

Some book are dusty and old,
and since long were written.
The lovers sometimes feel cold,
but I still feel smitten.

As I love reading every book
and what really doesn't matter
is the way it starts to look
as time continues to pass.

'cause the story might be ancient,
but it will live again when I read.

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.

I go outside
while it's still dark,
the sun hasn't yet woken.
Everything here's
still cold and stark,
morning hasn't yet broken.

All is quiet,
even the park,
the birds' words yet unspoken.
Nature's serene,
there is no spark,
peacefulness's yet unbroken.

Nothing's there to
have left its mark;
this day's still without tokens.
But, there it is!
The first dog's bark,
morning has finally broken.
                        ~

This distance is irrelevant, be it near or far;
I feel complete anyhow, no matter where we are.
Your existence is my wholesomeness, my entire life;
without you I'm meaningless, I wouldn't feel alive.

Time is a fleeting thing, yet, with you, anything but;
all moments seem to be timeless, nothing's left untouched.
I know fulfillment now, and I never did before;
your presence ensures my soul no longer yearns for more.

My creative moments
are when...

I lie down to sleep.

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.

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                                                     ~

An iron skeleton
of construction.
Machinery rebuilds
the city.

Buildings rise
from the ground,
they seem to appear
out of nowhere.

Every day,
the workers go home
with satisfaction.

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?

It feeds,
it heals,
it sustains,
it grows,
it thrives.

It is everything
and everyone.
It never dies,
it's always around.

Without it,
there would be nothing.
Not you, not me,
no life at all.
Let's treasure it.

A short word that scares me,
as the meaning is majestic.

A short word that I don't like
because I hate saying goodbye.

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 they did a lot:

cooking, laundry, homework and
tidying their room.

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.

Take a bite...

And
let the rich taste
encase you.

Rain, lightning and thunder.

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

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'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.

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

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

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 ..

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.

The struggle against the current,
I never realised it was futile
until the moment I turned around
and looked over the edge
of the waterfall right behind me.

So I let go and gave in,
as the water gently pushed me along
straight into your waiting arms,
open, warm, and inviting.

Imagine my surprise
when I found you at the bottom.

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.

Being away from you...
It didn't change the way I feel.

And, my feelings,
they won't change
till I see you again.

They won't change.
They'll only grow.
They are growing,
growing stronger.

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

Pulled out of bed at 5am
to eat something filling.

I am a butterfly
hidden in my cocoon
slowly growing each day
awaiting the new moon
when my wings can unfurl
and I fly away, too soon.

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?

My ears used to cry for peace and quiet,
but now they yearn
for the sweet caress of your voice.

Your words are a soft blanket,
and when they reach my ears
I am covered in warmth and comfort.

Your laugh is cheerful music
and when it reaches my ears
my spirits are gently lifted.

Your affectionate tone of voice calms my soul,
and I gladly listen to anything you say.

Imagination,

without it, the world would be
nothing but empty.

You help me clear my muddled mind
when I'm in danger of drowning in thoughts.
You are there to put them in line
when they threaten to flood my core.

But what do I do when I have to leave?
What can you do for me when I ain't here?
What do I do when I need your help
and you're still across the ocean?

What do I do in that entire month?
What can you do for me when you're still there?
What do I do when I need your help
and you're still on another continent?

What do I do in those four weeks?
What can you do for me with only words?
What do I do when I need your help
and you're unable to give me a hug?

I bet I'd drown in thoughts.

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

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.