she quietly sits on the bench
focusing on one question
a question she has recently
often asked herself but not been able
to find a workable answer for

how do I begin again at this stage of my life?

this question has been haunting her
and kept her awake during the night
and lost and depressed during the day
she has tried to push it away
but it creeps up again and again

watching her I realise
that her question
is also my question
and just like her
I am still searching
for a workable answer

new year
new challenges
new ideas
new solutions
new hopes
new struggles
new love
new life
new me

she looks
at the list
that she has just written
and decides
that she needs
nothing new

she listens
to the bell
striking twelve times
after the last stroke
she writes down
her resolution
for the new year:
to be true to herself

the song of the nightingale
touches my soul
so hauntingly
beautiful and magical
but also full of sorrow
reminding me
that nightingales
will soon be silent forever

why is helping her
not good for her
he asks in despair

I feel sorry for him
as he cannot see
that helping her
destroys her growth

have I done
everything
wrong
she wonders
seeing
the displeasure
on his face

as she does
not know
the answer
she decides
to write a poem

she wonders
what she
might do
if she had
no fear

she thinks
hard and
concentrated
taking her time
to understand
her deepest
desires

after some while
she smiles
picks up
a pen and
begins
to write

I have no home
I say
quietly beginning to weep

That is not true
You say
impatiently shaking your head

I lost my father
I say
weeping with sorrow

We all loose our fathers
You say
not feeling my pain

she listens to the cars
passing by the window
soon the church bell
will have struck twelve times
welcoming a new day

but when she hears
the bell‘s joyful sound
sadness creeps into her soul
as she knows that
nothing has changed

I need to allow myself
not to have pressure
she says
determined
to relax
and enjoy life

I look at her
and I am sad
as I sense
that she
does not know
how to
do that

she is sad
as nobody seems
to read her poems
she has much to say
but her words remain unheard
not knowing what to do
she begins to wonders
if she really is a poet
or just pretends to be one

she checks
her phone
expecting
to see his reply

she does not know
that he regrets
having written
to her in the early
hours of the day

she thus keeps
checking her phone
hoping to get
his response today

I could stop
and do something else
but I carry on
as I lack courage

will you wait
he asks

maybe
she answers

bluebells and lilac
you walking away from me
should I follow you

that is
an off-the-wall idea
he laughs
and leaves
the room
unaware
that his comment
encourages her
to continue

ok
I talk *******
so what

ok
I am crazy
do I care

ok
you leave me
does it matter

orange
is my favourite colour
she said
it reminds me
of sunshine and warmth
and the happy feeling
that everything
will be fine

I want to do
something outrageous
just once in my life:
I want to ignore
norms and expectations
and follow my dreams.

Those were happy days
you said
when you showed me
the photograph
I can see the sadness and anger
in your eyes
and the desire
to go back into the past

You tell me that the perfume
you bought for her
she only wore for other men
but you do not realise that the perfume
I bought for myself
I am only wearing for you.

The place in your heart
is still occupied

I have never looked at you
through the eyes
of a woman before

Having done it now
I regret it
as I have realised
that you can never
be mine

you should ring him
she suggests
he is kind
and deserves
your love

if he is kind
I respond
why does he
not get in touch

she plays the piano
thoughtfully
rationally
concentrating on hitting
the right notes
there is no passion
or joy in her playing
the only thing that matters to her
is playing the piece
from beginning to end
without any mistakes
I am watching her
waiting for the moment
when the music
will capture her soul
and merge her body
with the rhythm of the song
at this point
she and the piano
will have become one
and mistakes
will no longer matter

You are so relaxed
When you are with me
All your worries disappear
And calmness descends upon your soul
There is understanding
Between you and me
And a harmony that others sense
People look at us and smile
They do not know
That you have left me
long ago

You never told me
why you had to leave

You just said
that you had to go

So after all those years
I still wonder why

We both had desires
and expectations
but the past caught up with us
when we finally met
and it all ended in tears

I would like to take you
on my golden sunbeam
to the land where everybody
cares for each other
and where people will love you

She smiles.
She laughs.
She dances.

He watches.
He longs.
He desires.

yesterday
seems so close
tomorrow
is so near
today
does not make sense

I follow you
to the end
of the world
she said

but I am
not going there
he responded
and walked away

I see the poet
sitting on a stone
crying

I sit down
next to her
and begin to listen
to her sadness

I can see how you suffer
trying to understand the past
and to predict the future.

When will you realise
that it is the present
you should focus on?

You tell me
That he has asked you
To marry him

Do you know
That he has asked me
The same question
Twenty years ago

Why are you always
Looking at the dark side
You ask with a smile

I do not know the answer
As your smile
Is like sunshine to me

What is the difference
between a good person and a bad person
the little girl asks.

You will know when you have grown up
her mother answers.

And when will I know
that I have grown up
the little girl asks.

I like walking
in the rain

cooling
comforting
nurturing
rain
cleanse
my body
and mind

refreshing
rejuvenating
invigorating
rain
strengthen
my body
and mind

I just love walking
in the rain

what about you?

she watches
the raindrops
gently landing
on her skin
she is not afraid
of the rain
as she knows
that the sun
will soon
shine again

you say:
I want to fly high
and reach for the stars

I wonder:
do you know what you are looking for
or are you just running away

How you read my poems
tells me more about you
than reading my poems
can tell you about me.

why did it take me
so long
to realize that
for me
we are us
but for you
we are you and I

I am fed up
talking to you
he angrily says
and begins
to walk faster

she sadly smiles
and tries to keep up
with him
hoping that one day
he will understand
how much
she cares for him

she takes
a deep breath
she straightens
her body
and stands tall
she looks ahead
with determination
and then presses
the button
and resets
her life

they want me
to fail
they wish me
bad luck
they look down
at me
and laugh
at me
and what do I do
I do even better

he told her
to revisit her past
as this would help her
to reignite her creativity

he promised her
excitement, happiness
and the thrill to create

but when she went there
all she could find
was boredom, sadness
and a desire to give up

up - down
hope - despair
up - down
hope - despair
up - down
hope - despair
the never ending
rhythm
of her life

I have a room with a view:
busy London street,
white and red lights
of cars rushing past,
magnificent church
hidden behind trees,
a couple passing by
holding hands
deeply immersed
in conversation.

I wonder if the moon in your place
is as big and bright as here in London.

sleep
dream
recover
wake up
work
sleep
dream
recover
wake up
work
sleep
dream
recover
on and on
and on
it goes

I sometimes dream
That I run with you
Along the river

You hold my hand
And my soul
Is full of joy

But every time
Just when our souls
Begin to meet
I wake up