"fernweh" poems
Ich habe Fernweh nach dem Ort an dem du gerade bist, und Heimweh nach dem Platz in deinem Herzen.
Ich liebe den Himmel, und ich wünschte ich wäre das Firmament über dir, egal ob hinter Wolken versteckt oder mit den Gestirnen geschmückt, denn dann würde ich dich immer sehen und immer bei dir seien.
Jedoch könnte ich dich nie berühren, von da oben.
Vielleicht wäre es besser, der Boden zu seien. Du legst dich in mein warmes Gras und atmest meinen Duft ein, nach einem Regenschauer, und würdest dabei lächeln. Aber als der Boden, würdest du mich je bemerken? Und wenn ja, würdest du nicht nur auf mich herabsehen?
Das würde ich nicht überleben, wir sind alle aus Sternenstaub, und besonders in der Liebe gleich.
Aber wenn du mir diese drei Worte ins Ohr flüsterst oder sie mir ins Gesicht schreist, dann ist es eh egal. Denn dann steht alles auf dem Kopf, am Himmel ist das Wasser der Meere und ich schwimme durch Wolken. Ich gehe über Federn, und das Federkleid der Vögel besteht aus Gras.
So ist es, zumindest in meinem Kopf, jedes Mal nachdem du mein Herz mit den Schmetterlingen, die du in meinem Bauch ausgesetzt hast, erschütterst hast.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:13 AM UTC
She was never steady—
always ready for the grand depart;
she lived for take-offs and landings—
she's the girl with a suitcase heart.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
fernweh is a german word that means to be a homesick for a place you've never been, so i wonder what you call missing someone who was never yours.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
My mind full of hope and eagerness to travel far and beyond further than the eyes can see.
My body aches for those places I have yet to travel to.
My eyes seek those places unimaginably visited.
My soul searches for another like me.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:19 PM UTC
you spell traveling as travelling
and never write travelled,
ever
because that would mean it stopped
and traveling should go on
forever.
you want to get lost in a supernova
and when it destroys you;
be scattered among the galaxies.
(you always longed for the stars)
you write "travelling"
because if we can't bend language
to our whims
(it is, after all, the only way to tell
a thought, a hope, a desire)
then what use is it?
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
i lost it
to the mountains, that night when
the fireplace consumed log after log
*throwing orange red and yellow
across the underground walls*, and
the river rushed above us
winter wonderland;
where three feet beds of snow
kiss jagged glacier lips and
bleed rivers.
i lost myself
that night, with you
(to you)
in the mountains.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
the pull from under my ribs
is wanderlust
unsuccessfully convincing myself
that the ache in my soul
is not my red string of fate--
the one wrapped around my heart--
being pulled taut
ripping my organs from my chest
and breaking my ribs like glass
it is not,
i whisper, not fooling anyone
the distance that makes it feel
like glass shards have taken over my throat
crawling from my mouth
and cutting off my tongue
it is not,
the fact that i cannot hold you
that makes my arm feel as if they have no purpose
it is not,
you being so far from my heart, my arms
that cuts up my insides so fine
please let me pretend,
just for a while longer,
that you being gone doesn't make me feel like a goner
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
I'm currently in this complicated situation of trying to figure out who I am and exactly what I want to do with my life.
Yet self love in a world seeking to mould us to a social convention is the greatest hurdle to overcome in the step to figuring out exactly who we are.
Can you remember who you were before you were told who to be?
I endeavour to do this through taking time out and moving away for a while. Indeed I have wanted this for a while.
One must find oneself before expecting to be found.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:11 PM UTC
Your smiles tear me apart
You know I don't have a heart
So far removed from sanity
I've got nothing left within me.
So do me a favour
Forget me.
Forget we ever shared kisses
On that sunlit hammock
Between sighs of passion
You whispered "I had to have you"
The moment, and in that moment
I lost and yet found you
You joked that I would leave
A trail of broken hearts, around the world
In my fernweh, in this restlessness
Your memories linger like smoke
But so do those broken hearts
I fear that you're right about this.
So, forget me.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
I'd like to go for a drive
Leave this place behind for a while
Taking to the path beyond
Watching as every unfamiliar road
Passes me by
One…
By one..
By one…
Finding myself in unknown towns
In far away places
Satisfying this desire
To be anywhere else but here
I want to just…
Go...
Until I find the place where my heart longs to be
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 7:02 PM UTC
If he really loved you...
If he really loved me, what?
I suffer from Fernweh constantly,
Which horribly translates to wanderlust in English
Read the irony;
Still, I am traveling.
His blue eyes gallivant for a split second,
Sensible to where his mind escapes to,
I let him.
I go fetch him water
He sneaks up from behind
Never turning around,
He sees my soul full frontal.
If he really loved you...
If I really loved him, I know
What works
He is foreign land,
And I do not own a map.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 8:43 AM UTC
Fascination in obscure
words or sensations
in my deep states,
seemingly insecure or even uncomfortable concepts to some
yet holding a great enigmatic eloquence
in elegance
when looked at through
a different prism of the crystal.
I could even say that my
Deep Stateness
is of the copper-dark
radiating scarlet paired
with lilac,
inky blue
and grey mist
at the Lighthouse Keeper’s shift
when all stories come alive
and what’s seemingly real
turns feeble.
An example word of such would be: “Incalescent”
or
“Evanescent”.
It holds that feeling
independently
from its cognitively
given definition.
Astrality, to me,
if you’d like to ask as a help
for placing it,
may be most probably
the aforesaid
Deep Stateness married
with the presence of My Lover, otherworldly consciences
without words
(as if I were some astral being
embodied
and aware of its misbelonging
to this world
and my moderated
female body)
and my Fernweh
for my Home.
It’s also that Phronemophiling,
like a thing greater
than getting high on drugs.
It is also my endearment
at my antics
or getting Philosophy
in me and what I read
as lovely,
playing naked on guitar
at night alone in silent dark
with trust in my eyes without glasses, looking at stars bravely
without this handicap device
and lonely daring the world
to tell me
I cannot see them without it
on,
using the strong reverberating
of my voice so pulsing out loud
with sureness and passion,
or fascinating at my tears
for more than two days
whilst in commotion
after reading deeply
“The Dead Poets Society”.
Surely you must have felt it
one way or another some time.
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 2:42 PM UTC
How long must I wonder,
Street lights lighting this road I ponder.
I'm lost in a place I know,
It's hard to be real in a town so foe.
This emptiness is weighing me down,
It goes with this pass through town.
My gypsy soul pulls me in a direction,
But my brain chains me in refraction.
How much longer on this road I ponder?
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC