on the first day of spring
my mother died

she had always loved flowers
and had turned
our interior hallway
into a luscious greenhouse
   father was not always happy
   about the falling leaves

in her later years
when skiing was no longer hers
she hated winters
   their long nights
   their waning sun

she was always longing
   for spring
waiting for the day
the morning sun lit up
the kitchen desk again
in her parents’ house
where she was born
   and had grown old

the night before
I had called and told her
that here in the south
the first flowers were already
   dotting the gardens

she had smiled on the phone
   almost inaudibly
speaking had become difficult

   maybe her last images
   were of colorful spring meadows

today at 7.10 a.m.
my mother died

spring has come

hardly a day goes by
without the news
of yet more suicide attacks
that **** mothers and children
     innocently playing in parks
     listening to their favorite songs
friends chatting over tea and coffee
expectant travelers on their way
     to business  family  or lovers

the perpetrators of such deeds
must be a very lonely crowd
with eyes as empty as their hearts
and frozen souls that harbor the illusion
       that cowards will turn heroes
       that killing innocents is brave
       that the world will recognize their great importance
            when they bring ****** ends to happy lives

it will not come to pass

no peace
     in this   or any other world
can find its way to them
who ****** in cold blood

It is better to light a single candle
than only complain about the darkness.

this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you

to all my fellow poets who were kind
enough to read my verse with the somewhat
forbidding title “not about you”
like it despite of it and
     more than that
elected it as Daily

as well to those
who sent nice messages
and greetings

I send warm thanks

you made my day

a sunny one
opened bright patches of blue sky
between wet clouds
and brought me better morning news
than any of my papers could provide

Merci once more

No dad, no hassle.
No parental battle.
I guess this should be a good thing.
It's not like it's ever bothered me.
Except that it has,
But depending when you ask,
It doesn't anymore.
I'm completely fine.
I'll continue my life.
Nothing, nothing has changed.
I've managed without,
So why would I need?
Why would I want?
But sometimes I can't make up my mind.
So I do nothing to it.
It's the only thing that's safe.
Because once you've done something,
There's no going back.
Why give it the chance to effect me?
I don't want you.
Don't want to know you.
You don't even want to know me.
You're not my dad,
Barely a father.
To be a dad you have to stick around,
But you were never there to begin with.
Other daughters and fathers bond,
But I wouldn't want to with you.
You're the wrong type of person anyway.
Even though, I've seen some of your Facebook posts.
One I found very ironic.
And too much time has gone since I was born.
I bet you don't know I'm fifteen.
You've probably forgotten about your unknown daughters.
And why wouldn't you?
Funny, you don't know I exist.
But this poem, I wrote about you.