Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
1.4k · Mar 2015
hazards of the profession
quipping maliciously
the learned scholar
outdid himself
and keeled over backward
into a huge barrel
of seething criticism
1.4k · Nov 2021
autumn morning
a slanted morning sun
   warming my back
makes my huge shadow
walk so far ahead of me

trying to catch up with it
I feel small
fall sun shadow small
1.4k · Mar 2015
wine country
courting the sun
  after a cool June
  in my vintner's garden
close to the southern border

carefully sipping
  his latest selection
    a good year
    you can taste it

looking out from the hill
  across the river valley
  I listen to his children
  proudly telling how
only yesterday
  they filled 50 sandbags
just in case

the deafening roar
  of an interceptor jet
  splits the air
    just for seconds
    leaves my wine glass
    trembling
  
three helicopters
  slash their way south
  and come back later

over the winding road
  on the next hill
  the last tank of the column
   disappears

we can hear
  not far away
      over there
  sounds like explosions

we enjoy the sun

Helmut opens another one
  of his treasured bottles
  and tells me
  what he will do
  if They come across
  
   he is a good hunter
and an excellent shot

I sip the clear wine
  watch how the sunlight
  lends its brilliance
  to the half-filled glass  

I feel a little bit
  like Humphrey Bogart
  in the wrong movie.
Near the Slovene border in southern Austria at the beginning of the war in former Yugoslavia, 1992.
1.4k · Apr 2018
mothers all - reposted
for those whose mothers are no more
the annual business hype of what to give
    and where to take your mother
is but  a sad remembrance of loss
stirring up memories of happier times
when she was still a pillar in your universe
loved and revered, and sometimes feared,
who taught you, patiently or not,  
the basics of survival in your expanding world.

She knew, while you were as yet unaware  
that all her loving preparations
would over time mean separation.

When you struck out to shape your life
all by yourself and left her with her fears for you,
her wishes,  and the hopes that what she tried
to give you was enough and right,
your heart and mind were elsewhere,  far away,
focused upon the future of your independent life.

Your years run fast and busy, and suddenly one day
you stand before her coffin
and discover that it is too late
for all the questions never asked.

What you have left are memories
and a vague sense of having missed the chance
to see - and maybe even understand a little -
the woman she has also been
throughout her life, behind her loving face
of a dear mother’s care and grace.
The upcoming Mother’s Day triggered these lines and made me remember the time when my mother was alive.
1.4k · Apr 2018
talk not to me
talk not to me
of the reality that media shoot
at me from morn to evening

not of catastrophes or cruelties
humans inflict upon each other
with never-ending venom

speak to me of the delight
a newborn gives its parents

the joy and pride a child feels
mastering its first challenging task

the sudden sparkle in the eye
of refugees when finally they have reached safety

the wordless joy when two have found each other
and for a time need nobody else

speak to me
of all the moments in our daily life
that make us proud to be human
1.4k · Jan 2016
who we are
when we remember
what the times have been
that made us into what
    and who
    we are today
we travel deep into our past
to hear our mother’s voice
our father’s not so friendly gripes
when we fouled up a task he gave to  us

our friends, our teachers, our loves
whose interactions shaped
who we eventually have become  
while we believe that we have always been
     so independent and  autonomous

it may be worth a moment to reflect
     upon the influences
     we are inclined to casually neglect
and recognize the fact
     that we are always part
     of that great whole
     which we so desperately try
     to disavow for individuality

only to recognize a few years later
the minimal common denominator

life is a wonderful excursion into space and time
always surprising, turning on a dime,
leaving us puzzled well unto the end
always intent to look beyond
the next bend of the river …….
1.4k · Feb 2016
bright day
there are those days
so sunny and so  bright
that you begin to  think this is the time
for some achievement  that excels
of which the people tell for many years
admiring stories of heroic deeds

the morning passes   then the afternoon
the sun sets casually as usual
the moon is hiding behind clouds
   like dying ember
and when night falls in earnest
    shrouds the world in darkness
you recognize it is the day  
    not you
that people might remember
1.4k · Feb 2016
the Drago tree
of legendary origin
encroached upon
throughout the centuries
by human fear
   seeking protection
   near some venerable shape

you stand

aloof

   silently balancing
   symmetrical circles
   of roots and crown

patiently oblivious of parks
and buildings made by those
who vainly walk in awe
to grasp the mystery
   in touch, in picture, meditation
   of otherness unmoved

plantlife millenial
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dracaena_draco
1.4k · Mar 2015
september 11 2001
september has become
the cruelest month

reassembled
hollywood disasters
at their worst
flipped into reality

as if
   we had needed that
as if
   we had not known
      that life is fragile
      and tall buildings
      can collapse
   taking thousands
   to sudden death

what is the point?

to prove
   that one can bring
   disaster
   to the undefended?

to demonstrate
   that minds bent
   on destruction
   can succeed
   if they plan long enough?

what a waste
   of lives and minds...
and more to follow
most likely

does wordless violence
solve anything?

the heartless deed
the glamorous sacrifice
that calls for more
   and more
and more
neurotic spirals
of destruction, retaliation
and revenge
instead of global peace
now looms spectral war
born from self-righteous pride
the need to strike out
   fast and hard
against whoever fits
intelligence-created data
transferred to screens
   meticulously marked
coolly oblivious of the people
   who work and procreate
         and live
   in those fluorescent blips

domesticated energy
serves the omnipotent
   two millionaires’ sons
   turned public enemies
upon whose final global showdown
depends
the fate of yet more
   women
        men
           and children
to satisfy the need
for a just universe
where power flows
    undisturbed by laughter
   and the sounds
   of real people
        living
   in a real world
Written on September 13, 2001, in a very angry mood!
Difficult to believe that this was 15 years ago....
when daily news
over weeks and months
reports events that  far exceed
most people’s homespun nightmares

can we react as poets
and not be seen as cashing in on the sensation
like all the media have come to do without regret?

It may be wise not to give in
to the temptation to create ******* of violence
but try to just suggest the essence of catastrophe

a lonely high-heeled sandal on the roadside
one flip-flop much too small to fit adults
a tough man crying without shame

there are events for which we don’t have proper words

this does not mean we should keep silent
Apropos the massacre in Nice on July 14, 2016
1.3k · May 2023
mirror, mirror .....
mirror, mirror on the wall ...
what the hell happened?!?
the myths of birth and rebirth
are as old as humankind

scratched onto cave walls,
tablets of stone or clay,
scrolls of papyrus or  parchment,
for hundreds of years on paper,
and nowadays typed onto backlit screens
   that are recycled faster
   than old hieroglyphs were understood

in our time
when refugees are tens of millions
on our globe

let us remember that these myths
have celebrated for millenia
    not battles, war, or death
but the survival of the human race    
the joy we feel when new life has arrived
   often against all odds
the hope that emanates from godesses
    or mother saints of yore
    who symbolize fertility,
    have brought forth saviors and new tribes

these are what has propelled us to our current state

and we do well to not forget that our fate
does not depend on people slain
but on how we can save the joy of life
and celebrate all humankind again
Trying hard to write a verse of joyful optimism in dire times.... Wishing y'all on hellopoetry a Merry Christmas and a Better New Year!
1.3k · Oct 2018
fake threats
a few thousand migrants
from run-down middle American nations
join together for a march
to reach the US border
and apply for immigrant visas

the tiny president
of the great United States
sends out the army to protect
the nation of 350 million
from this terrible threat

the master of fake
playing his power games
on the back of the most needy
one of the Orient’s oldest
and most beautiful important cities
inhabited for thousands of years
by generations after generations
of craftsmen, merchants, artists, dynasties,
famous architects of all styles and religions,
the western end of the old silk road
home to over 2 million citizens
until not long ago

a few weeks of modern warfare
were enough to destroy
what hundreds of generations had built
for their living as well as their sense of beauty

     rockets exploded churches, temples, and mosques
     artillery pulverized ancient palaces and new houses

     barrel bombs and poison gas
     killed the people

on tv we now see acres of urban wasteland
miles of rubble with no life
except for occasional tanks and soldiers
proclaiming victory over these ruins
in the name of a dictator whose regime
has become a puppet in global power games
no matter what the cost in lives or things

     to destroy is easy
     building things up is hard work

     with friends like these
     who needs enemies
For this ancient city as it used to be, see: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aleppo
1.3k · Jan 2017
wisecrack no. 8 (10w)
our grandchildren are the reward
for not strangling our teenagers
1.3k · Jan 2018
sweeter than honey
to call hard science „fake news“
creates suspicion that this abuse
of hard facts about global warming
is but a shabby adorning
of the power of money
which tastes sweeter than honey
as lobbyists prove every morning
space&time;
   narrow
to the moment
   it
may happen

nothing
proceeds
beyond that point

the whole universe
   folds
   into one compact dot

a cosmic black hole
   whose invisible energy
   holds promise
   to burst forth
   in brilliant stars of

salvation
   elation
      liberation
equality
     freedom
happiness
     & cetera

another big bang

this time

   maybe

also with a whimper

      * *
1.3k · May 2015
usa today (critical)
two hundred years ago
   or so
this title might have read
"America", etc.,

according to the myth
that then was strong
and still exotic
   and promising to aliens
with no experience

today, after Wounded Knee, the Trail of Tears,
the Civil War, the Restoration, all the lynchings,
after Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, Nicaragua,
the Gulf, Iraq, Afghanistan,Lybia, Syria & cetera,
Ferguson, Baltimore, & cetera,
"America" has disappeared

it has, in fact, become quite evident
that to subsume the continent
   on the far side
       of the Atlantic or Pacific
   with this name
will do no more

   in truth, it rarely ever did

the mythic notion
   of a just and free society
was definitely buried at My Lai,
Panama City, on the desert plains
of Kurdistan, the Baghdad prisons,
    and Guantanamo
by racist violence & arrogance
   and pitiful ideas of white supremacy

   the usa today lies bare
   of the old promise of 'America'

street people, rampant fundamentalists,
drugs, and low employment rates,
in a society that longs
   despite its cherished myth
   of tough but honest competition
for holy war in order to rebuild with profit
   what it has destroyed with arms

that, to all evidence, cares not
a penny's worth for
   the unbuildable
   which never shows in the domestic census
or for the lives of others but their own brave boys
   preferably white
who have in recent years
      though with increasing discomfort
upon appointment by their country's presidents
achieved the dreary fame
   of bombing back into the stone age
distant lands that had
    just barely begun
to make it out from there

           * *
1.3k · Jul 2016
water
whether sweet or salty
it is the mother of life

no matter whether you are
    Darwinist or Creationist
water as a source of our existence
    you cannot deny

so, what do we do
with this essential gift of nature
except drink it and float on it?

we waste it, pollute it,
in general,
we simply don’t appreciate it

at least those of us
who live in the comfort zones
     of regular rainfall
     advanced sanitary installations
     and drinkable tap water

millions of others
depend on their lives
for water from the sky
    or from the sea

re-appreciating water
taking care of it
may save the lives
of our children

they are our future
1.3k · Apr 2015
above things
at standard cruising altitude
sipping my digestive
after a quite decent hot lunch
on the flight from Vienna to Athens

I gaze through the scratched
double plexiglass bulleye
shielding me from the outside world
and try to pierce the blinding haze
of a lazy spring afternoon
hiding from me

   the people shot by snipers
   the shelling of suburbs
   the burning houses
   the crowded hospitals
   of Sarajevo, Gorazde, Mostar, Zadar ...

suspended in diffuse light
all I can see is
   the silhouette of an occasional
       snow-capped mountain range

there is no sign
of human suffering

*May 1992
The war in Bosnia lasted from April 1992 to December 1995, an estimated 150.000 people were killed, about 50,000 women were *****, about 2,2 mio. people became refugees.
1.3k · Nov 2018
using our time
sometimes I wonder if the time we use
trying to understand the world
by listening to all the media
might not be better spent
with talking to our neighbors
in the pub next door
over some hearty food
     a pint of beer
just let the permahype of news
dissolve with a good joke
and a nice glass of wine
that makes the friendly spirits shine
1.3k · Mar 2016
I WONDER
WHY THOSE ALMIGHTY GODS
OF WHATYEVER CONFESSION
WOULD NEED THE HELP
OF WEAK HUMANS
FOR THEIR SURVIVAL

IT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE

UNLESS THEY ARE
     IN REALITY
THE CREATIONS OF THOSE
WHO **** TO SAVE THEM(SELVES)
1.3k · Nov 2015
Kindness (10 W)
Truly, at the end of the day only kindness matters
1.3k · Mar 2015
floating
like icebergs
we keep floating
through our lives
   tops in the present
   bulky bodies in the past

what lies unseen below the surface
steadies our course

above
we take it as it comes
sun, rain, and snow & ice & wind

sometimes it melts us down a bit
but overall
it makes the bulks of our bodies grow

the new weighs heavily and
pushes what was new before
   downward
day by long day

until
in balmy southern waters
we slim down
and then
   one day
a final ache splits
upward from the bottom
through the consolidated matter
    of all years

and we drown

* *
1.3k · Jul 2016
wisecrack no. 4 (10w)
People who know nothing are doomed to believe almost everything.
1.3k · Oct 2016
new life
every now and then
I receive emails from former students
with pictures of their newborns

each time
I am deeply touched
that they feel
I would like to know
about their lives’ great events

I reply with loving mails
congratulating them
wishing them much joy
    and patience
with their adorable offsprings

it is just nice to know
that the people
whose lives you shared for a few years
are doing well
1.2k · Nov 2018
alternate worlds
they are our dreams
some slanted
some straight
all stranger
than our everyday

we marvel
at the creations
of our inner eye

we cling to them
in moments of loneliness

they are ours
only
Inspired by a computer graphic of  Maria Luisa Grimani on password.or.at/showpic.php?pid=98
1.2k · May 2016
do we indeed
like many stoutly claim
    as members of some Christian faith
love our neighbors as we love ourselves

then why do we look down on those
    of different creeds and cultures
    skin color, clothes, or hats
suggest to keep them out by building walls,
suspect them of barbarian ways,
let them drown,
put them in camps,
build fences,
stop them at our borders,
prefer
   in short
to have them elsewhere

maybe we should love ourselves much more
so we can better love
the tired, hungry, and the poor
who come to our shores and borders
     in search of safety and shelter,
     freedom, and human dignity

let us remain easy, and truer
to the spirit of our Liberty,
remembering our heritage
     and that of our parents
     and their parents
most likely immigrants from somewhere
looking for a better place
    to have a life and rear their children

it helps to see our neighbors as our friends
rather than enemies
and love them like we love ourselves
1.2k · Jun 2018
Brexit – limerick
poor Ms May inherited Brexit
she sure wishes that she could hex it
away to the gorges of hell
so that no supporter can tell
that she‘s found an ingenious exit
1.2k · Aug 2015
say it out loud
not until
   not so long ago
I recognized
that saying thanks
   only with wordless deeds and gestures
may not be enough

we need to
   hear
GRATITUDE  
spoken out loudly
   in words

silent appraisal
   is not enough
   over time

so I speak out
in deep appreciation
   of your hard work
   to make us
   stay together
against tall centrifugal forces
the division of
   distance and time
   distress and separation
   barriers of the quotidian
   multiple obligations

I thank you
   for being with me

even at times
   when you are almost
beside yourself

I thank you
   for being with me
and being you

         * *
appreciation speakingout recognition
1.2k · May 2019
rain's beauty
drops falling steadily
upon a misty world
far more than fifty shades of green
dazzle your senses
make you
     almost
hear
trees  bushes  flowers
drinking sustenance
     ecstatically
dancing in the rain
Apropos a nice rainy day in spring
1.2k · Jun 2015
morning
out of a dreamless sleep
my wristwatch's chirping electronic beep
   brings me back slowly to the world

not without doubts of some primeval kind

I try to cautiously adjust my mind
and turn
   with sudden fear and apprehension
and find
   the world is still alright
and you are here

         * *
Having just climbed
  through ages
up what seemed an endless flight
of narrow winding gothic spiral stairs
I step out
right into the wind's brute force
   instinctively
my arms grasp for a hold
fearful lest I blend suddenly
with the white horses
and the fields of the Camargue
far down below

Wedged safely
in a nook of stone
a hefty tourist
leans out wide between the walls
toward the setting sun

her summer skirt is blown waisthigh
revealing
unexpectedly delicate lace
above sturdy thighs

her body opens
to the strong soft touch
of the Mistral

A little later
she walks past me
clothes gathered
level gaze calm  
and self-assured

and leaves me wondering
whether the mighty abbot
on his solitary tower
and his exclusive brotherhood of men
had ever understood
the wind that blew
and still blows
through two feet of stone
  like they were silk
and thrills a woman
to her bone

* * *
                                                              ­                        © Walter W. Hoelbling
Montmajour is in the Camargue, near Aix-en-Provence, France
1.2k · Jun 2016
50 more dead
every day we learn
how many died of violence
in any corner of the globe,
be it in wars,  by terror,  
fundamentalist fanatics,
gun-toting psychopaths and haters,
or all of the above

the figures seem to grow
the daily death toll makes us callous
what earlier was horror
has turned into ****** routine

so much so that
when there’s a day we do NOT hear
about some grisly ******
we feel like we have got a bargain!
1.2k · Jul 2016
when we consider
when we consider
    in one of the rare quiet moments
    of our hurried hectic times
what keeps us busy throughout all our days
we may discover that there is not much beyond quotidian chores
    that occupies our schedule
the job,  career, the family, the children
     mow the lawn, chat with the neighbors,
     go to worship,  bowling,  Sunday school
     etc., etc.

small time we give to figuring out the meaning of it all

what is it that we want
    when we have reached the peak of our career
    when our kids have left the house
     live elsewhere without need for our care
what is it that is left
    to strive for and achieve

pragmatically speaking
it may be useful to become alert
and contemplate such matters
    alongside our busy years
at least some time before
we find ourselves
close to the edge
that points us into different spheres
1.2k · Dec 2015
trumpeteers
the self-styled trumpeteers of ethnic hate
wish to build fences
    close the gates
to keep out those who flee
from self-styled trumpeteers of religious hate
who, as it is,
claim to feel called to hold up
ancient teachings that are out of date
in modern democratic times
when neither chimes of church bells
nor the cries of muezzins
or any other servants of religion
rank higher than the people’s democratic vote

as we are told by the elected
trumpeteers of democratic nations

god and the state each get their share
in separate spheres
but do not mix

for me
those who dare violate this rule
just come across as desperate to solve
new problems with old words
look backward and believe
that when they sell regression
     garnished with some bows
it will be seen as progress
make people overlook that
     while they now may live by simple truths
they can no longer disagree
     without the fear of ****** harm

just let us speak out loud and clear
     against the self-styled trumpeteers' song

to **** in the name of whatever god
is always wrong
1.2k · Mar 2015
winter sky
the lure
of the full moon’s light
in a frosty December night
is almost irresistible

it beckons to you
its pale radiance
   casts deep shadows
   full of unknown possibilities
that grow by the moment
and struggle to turn into words
   trying to grasp the cosmos
   the mystery of life

   amazing how the mere reflection
   of the sun’s brilliance
   can affect one so

it seems to ask you
to set a cool-hearted deed
make definite decisions
explore the blueprint of the universe
turn into a werewolf
dance with the dead

you look at the glimmering stars
   dotting the darkness
   left by the moon

delayed messengers
always too late

even with the speed of light
they only make us
   see the past
   mistake it for the present
   and build our future on it

the thoughts of a man staring at the sky
   in a frosty December night

deciding
to love on

* *
1.2k · Feb 2019
walls
you want to build a wall
to make it high and tall
to keep them out
them all
you fear because they call
with different voices
different words
wear different clothes
in brighter colors
have darker skin  
and
who knows
may have darker souls within

and you don‘t see
they only flee
from terror and lethal poverty

desperately hoping
that the Statue of Liberty
still remembers her promise
1.2k · Jun 2019
hmmmmmmm
do we really want
our country imprisoned by a wall
and all the seasonal Mexican harvest workers
locked out?

California and other
southern border states
do not seem so enthusiastic
about this concept

legal or illegal
they need the (wo)man power
to get their fruit and vegetables
to the (super) market

therefore, dear ICE
& other border guard units

get your act together
do NOT separate children
     from their parents    
try to use your brains
      rather than follow your orders

and act
like good Americans would
ICE, immigration harvest Mexican  children
1.2k · Jul 2016
just in spite
right in the face of all the everyday reports
about disasters near and far

why do we not remember
the beauty of our world
the people whom we know
who are quite wonderful  and do great things
    day in day out without much clanging
    of media cymbals or rewards

the teenager who saves a drowning man
    thinks s/he just did the natural thing

the union woman in the protest march for better wages
    believes it’s simply natural to march

the officer leading a child that lost its way
    home to the parents

the neighbor noticing that her best friend next door
    has not picked up her morning paper

et cetera    et cetera

they are the unremembered heroes
of our daily lives

methinks our media are too obsessed
    with all the bad news in the world
and over that simply forget
    that it’s the good things which allow them to report
also the less enticing aspects of mankind
1.2k · Mar 2015
Orion
around the turn of the year
  Orion looks at me
   head on
on my little loggia

the brilliance of the sky
in a clear winter night
is awesome
and even if I did not
   know the names of the stars
   that give Orion shape
Rigel, Betelgeuse

I would start wondering
about design and meaning
and how I figure in it
    if at all

   whether my astronomer friends
   have terms and explanations
   does not really matter

   it is I
   who has to come to terms
   with what I see    

with the endlessness
   of the universe
the brilliance of its appearance
and the feeling that
   in all of this
my own insignificance
might be
just that
1.2k · Mar 2015
Leipzig 1990
a city old in trades,
in cultivation of the arts
based on industrious commerce
   of its citizens who boast
the world's oldest commercial fair

the city in which
Martin Luther and Melanchthon
led fierce disputes
with delegations of the Pope

where J. S. Bach found stimulus
and time to master
harmony and rhythm
close to perfection,
(and that was shocked listening
to Leibniz's monadologies),

the city of which
Goethe spoke with praise,
that saw Napoleon defeated
on the nearby battlefield
(and built a monument of quite
imposing ugliness one hundred years
after the fact),

this city suffered hard
from two world wars
followed by over forty years
of dreams gone sour of a new society,
until, most recently,
this city once again
became a catalyst of major change.

Yet those who kept their meetings
at St. Niklas' church
and by their stubborn protest
helped to reunite
a country separated by walls for generations -
those you don't see,
walking the streets of Leipzig now.

What strikes the eye
(besides the crumbling blackened ruins
of former glory,
and strip-mined land
just out of town)
is Wall Street's new frontier,
the bustling peddlers of new easy wealth
as they appear on every street downtown,
offering anything from oranges
to shoes and South Pacific cruises.

Ramshackled pre-fabs built on shabby parking lots
already stake the claims of big banks,
business and insurance companies
that promise earnings, safety and security
to eager though bewildered customers.

   "Pecunia non olet" says the poster
   of the postal savings bank,
   and shows a happy pig
   rooting in money.

Old stores, in order to survive,
have started selling
new and shiny goods
to happy new consumers,

only a few resist

and hesitate to walk a mile
for the melange of
fast food, cigarettes and *****
offered at makeshift stands
that seem have come
to symbolize the great new freedom

of the new Wild East.

          * *
Written upon visiting Leipzig one year after the Cold War Iron Curtain came down.
"Pecunia  non olet" (Latin proverb) = "Money doesn't smell!"
1.1k · Mar 2015
loss of innocence
we taught each other
to enjoy
a lingering kiss
   soft touches
     loving glances
the built-up tension unreleased
    but in secret solitude
       at night
a yearning for fulfilment
   never to be granted
as we moved out of school
and into different lives

I saw her last
only a few years after
  alarmed by news from mutual friends
two days before her death

she did not recognize me
   any more
as I stood terrified
beside her bed
in a secluded section
of the cancer ward

I had arrived too late

my loving stutter
   already out of reach
her blindly searching gaze
passed on through me

it hurt
like nothing else before

I cried my grief out
in long sobbing nights
yet still not long enough
to heal the pain
nestling since then
   quietly
in thinly calloused
wrinkles of my heart

            * *
1.1k · Mar 2015
virgos
dusk fell upon us softly
   between kisses
that probed and went
across the borders
into the other´s land
   to find it strange
yet pleasant
and a little frightening

the whistle for retreat
   was blown
and we went out for dinner
but soon grew restive
to resume the wanderings
on each other´s turf

your girlish coyness
made me hesitate
lest a wrong move
turn me into a frog that
   thrown against the wall
   would not change
      into a prince

I hid within my robe

your loving body
hard up against mine
   felt beautiful
your kisses and caresses
   roused my blood

your loving trust
   shaken, at times,
   by my exploring touch
made me feel very young
and very old at once
   it was not easy
   to maintain control

we walked the tightrope
   through the night
your innocence protected you as well
   as my experience and respect
for your determination
   not to lose yourself

   and not to join me
   at that time

our entanglement
between desire and restraint
was long and yet too short
dawn found us puzzled
   words were scarce

the parting kisses
   sweet and sad
left memories

unrefreshed

to this very day

     * *
1.1k · Feb 2018
sounds of life
our hearts keep beating
as long as they can

that's the sound of life
Quote from a source no longer remembered
how do I write about the beauty of the world
when barefoot people pass before my window
in search of shelter

how do I share my pleasure of the birds' sweet song at dawn
when I see faces etched with panic
from deafening blasts of bombs

how to rejoice in love and friendship
when meeting people who could barely save their lives
after burying their loved ones

how can I write with passion of the kindness of the human heart
when I see thousands fleeing from the ruins of their homes
only to face police   walls   barbed wire

true words are hard to find
as said a poet of an older war

    when it is a lie to speak
    a lie to keep silent

not easy
The poet from which my last two lines come: John Balaban, Vietnam veteran:
“A poet had better keep his mouth shut,” he writes in “Saying Good-by to Mr. and Mrs. My, Saigon, 1972”:
unless he’s found words to comfort and teach.
Today, comfort and teaching themselves deceive
and it takes cruelty to make any friends
when it is a lie to speak, a lie to keep silent.
1.1k · Jun 2015
new orleans
the charm of French Colonial style
   with Cajun cooking promised -"genuine!" -
   at every second door
jazz bands at every other

the flair of well-groomed wealth and savoir vivre
   exuding from St. Charles´ porticos,
   the restaurants on Calle du Roi,
the campuses of Tulane, UNO, and Loyola

the grandeur of the superdome
the open space of Audubon and City Park
   oakes draped with Spanish Moss
alive with jogging, skating, biking, walking health
   between the nights -

all this makes you almost forget
the city project housings
slumming beneath the highrise business shadows
   crime ridden,
floating on neverending waves of dime-a-dozen tunes
from hi-fi stereos of cruising cars

the grand lake spoiled for generations
with the big city's waste,
the 'father of rivers' dwarfed beyond repair
by wharfs and cranes and fortified embankments
that line his banks as far as you can see
   and far beyond

a shotgun wedding of the rich and poor,
   the black and white,
   torn by the struggle to ascend
   from shotgun to colonial
to the soft sound of dixie

              * *
Written 20 years before Katrina ...

In N.O., a "shotgun" is a house thats has all rooms in one line - so you could shoot through all with one shot.
when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with

     making life more expensive for average home owners
     signing orders threatening the health of millions
     restricting the publications of researchers
     denying global warming
     encouraging coal and oil companies
     forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
     going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
          to justify his ridiculous lies
     blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
     barring leading media companies from press conferences
     waffling about his Russian connections
     refusing to release his tax returns
     ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
          like the old Chinese did, to little avail
     issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
          causing confusion and harm and even deaths
     banning even green card holders from entering the country
     filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
          he promised to clean during his campaign
          people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the     system
          but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
          and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
          as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
          like their private family businesses, for profit
courting kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
     'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
      and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
     in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
     is quite OK with his campaign team members
     his son and son-in-law

[ctd. fron line 2...] it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
    if any
of democracy he has in mind
In view of ongoing developments, this poem is a work in progress and will be updated whenever significant "presidential orders" or some such become public.
1.1k · Mar 2015
autumn
quietly
over the past week
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges

most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in their country garbs

vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores

hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark

schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen

businessmen, remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and those never-ending nights
at the Algarve

I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
at the time when nature’s breath
goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year

Or were it better
that we also took a rest?
1.1k · Jul 2016
planet earth
the pictures from the ISS
make it very clear
to everybody with a TV screen
    or a computer

our earth is a globe
    and blue
        and finite
            and in a delicate balance

determined by more factors than even
our most sophisticated computer simulations
can so far figure out

it makes you wonder
why
of all people
those who surely own more than one TV screen
    and a couple of notebooks & cetera
are the ones who deny
that they are
   destroying our rain forests
   polluting our rivers and seas
   poisoning our environment
   ruining our lives
   deadening our minds

maybe
    if they dare to set forth
    even a step or two
    from their isolated gated  habitats
    and walk in the real world
    they have created
they are able to begin
to understand
Next page