love came to me
in quiet
   gently
and found me
unaware of

how
   over the table
   of a conference lunch
I must have taken
to your ways

how
   sitting next to you
   in drowsy silence
   on the bus that took us
   to some wind-blown ruins
   of antiquity
your presence was
like that of a close friend
with whom I shared
a silence comfortably safe
knowing
no words were needed

only when
   on that merry evening
you looked
and moved
like happiness incarnate
and put your hand
spontaneously?
upon my knee
I recognized

how
   much
I wanted
   you

      * *

over millennia the question
     what is beauty
has occupied the minds
of great philosophers

museums, galleries, and private homes
     as well as public monuments
display the sculptures, paintings, texts, and movies
created by the artists of all cultures over time
with figures, colors, poems with(out) rhyme

looking at that variety
I do remember words of one much older
     “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”
Picasso speaks to one, Velasquez to another
some prefer Shakespeare, others e. e. cummings,
in movies we find Billy Wilder or Fritz Lang
right next to Eastwood or Sarandon

which of them we enjoy with great abandon
depends on whether  they can touch our heart and soul,
move us to tears, stir our thought,
or simply leave us speechless

we have that soft spot for the beautiful
reminding us that there are things that go beyond ourselves
     they touch us gently
     like the morning songs of elves

till suddenly the brilliance of human art
reaches the very depths of our heart

some people make you seriously wonder
    about
what makes them tick so brazenly
    against
all values they supposedly hold high

     is it a tunnel vision
     of greedy individuality?

    a dangerous mix
    of arrogance, innocence, ignorance?

    or are they simply overwhelmed
    with unexpectedly gained power
    mistake the votes of people
    for a mandate to play god?

unknown may be the causes
but the results are clear

if you preach water but drink wine
throw precious pearls before swine
say things today that you deny tomorrow

folks may still listen to your words
but do no longer follow the meaning
of perma-hype that makes no sense

sooner or later
they‘ll simply stop listening

the howto
             is a mighty force
             it tells us
                with authority
             how to
             best navigate the world
             appropriate to the occasion
            
             from love to cars to finances
             it guides us
                to the proper steps
            
             and yet
             it somehow fails
             to say  
             why
                if we follow the directions
             we feel like children
             rather than adults
            
             why
                when all wisdom
                has been eagerly applied
             we still don't know
     why
                 our hands and feet
                 are tied

the year is new
the problems stay the same

the one or other
   may have gotten a new name
yet the proverbial hope
    that they would simply disappear
   with time passing
remains just that

still  every year begins
    with quickening hearts
    and firm decisions
    the best intentions
    and new hope
that we will finally do
those things which to achieve
we’ve had on our mind
all these 12 months
that now belong inevitably to the past

so   in the early hours
of the latest new beginning
we promise to be strong
always prepare to meet the unexpected
and get things done at last

but first   dear friends
first   we shall celebrate
our chance to see the new year’s sun arise

LET’S HAVE A BLAST

There once was a lady in waiting
Who still enjoyed all the male baiting
When one was too daring
She slapped him with a herring
and chided him for not abating

If people step on my toes
I kick their shins

digital availability
   around the clock
after a while
begins to feel like
permanent responsibility

your friends expect you
to be online all the time
    whether you like it or not
so they can share with you their daily trivia
of personal condition, discount shopping, their dog’s health,
the children’s good, their problems with their partners,
etcetera etcetera

I know it’s nice to hit a button
and hear the ringing of the other’s phone
the voice responding to your call

it’s fine when there are no alternatives

and yet

somehow the electronic chat
confirms more than redeems
presence of absence of the person

I feel like talking to an avatar
a disembodied voice
that has a virtual existence
yet whose life in the real world
still needs to be asserted
by meeting – and talking –
in a café
or simply on the street

silhouettes
black on grey
struggle
against their dark weight

wings beating
wildly
to avoid
the crash

when the tide is high
fish are splashing on main street
the ground water begins to taste
like the Atlantic ocean
soon Florida Margaritas will not need
salt on the rim of their cocktail glasses
their lemons will have enough

to protects its citizens
from the dire consequences of rising sea levels
the state government acted
fast and furious
and has bann(on)ed terms like
“climate change” and “global warming”
from its official vocabulary

when trump meets with putin
the one shows his routine
the other goes bump
when he bows over his ****
just to fail with his gross highfalutin'

the shapes that keep appearing on my electronic page
struggle to become signs communicating meaning
     that reaches people at their core
so they can simply not resist responding to a message
the sense of which only evolves when they allow
to let themselves get lost in the uncertainty
of these strange writings on the virtual wall

wake up early
    turn on the radio
    listen to the early morning news
dozing off again for a while
     listening to the longer morning news
doing some wake-up exercises
grind coffee  & prepare my morning smoothie
have breakfast while reading newspapers
     do obligatory things
fix lunch
     while listening to the mid-day news
have a nap
     do obligatory things
check emails, viber, whatsapp & such
visit the hellopoetry site
have a merienda
    while listening to the evening news
do more obligatory things
enjoy a gin&tonic, or some such
communicate with our loved ones
     watching the late news
play a few card games on the pc
     for relaxation
     watch the midnight news
fall into bed
wrapped in the comfortable daily monotony
to be repeated tomorrow
and tomorrow   and tomorrow   and tomorrow…

the expression
on the face of people
close to death
is different

their eyes look elsewhere
they seem to see
a world alien to us
yet eerily familiar
   a place we have known
   to exist
   but never acknowledged it
   to be important
   for ourselves

they will not tell us
what they see
    their lives fast-forward
like films
    a brighter future
   the blackness of darkness

we will not know
until we ourselves
have that same look
on our face

also
unable to tell

O fog,
shrouding the busy highways
   softly
muting their resonant roar
   to distant growls

Unfurl your smooth fury,
crumple these cars,
shatter their frames across
   and beyond their concrete tracks
   that separate forests and hills
   and thicken the air
   with acrid smells
   from exhausted horsepowers.

Embrace them,
   O fog,
and guide their screeching tires
   over the embankment

roaring hearses
unreigned
by your moist arms

                           * * *

     &) Discovered recently among H. D.´s unpublished papers at Yale University Library, malevolent scholars take this poem as proof for the poet´s befogged imagination during some of her post-imagist periods. More englightened critics, though, point to the stunning topicality of H. D.´s mythopoetic mind in its accurate presentation of mankind´s archetypal struggle against nature. There is as yet insufficient biographical evidence that the mature H. D. possibly had a short but intensive attachment to the infant Ralph Nader, who later became head of the U. S. Environmental Protection Agency. – For serious information on the poet, see  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H.D.

these days
looking around the globe
one might believe that we are traveling in time

just in the wrong direction

regression as progress
seems to be
the dominant notion of the day
creating wannabes in various disguises
     populist czars, sultans, nationalists, dictators,
     assorted self-appointed saviors
     of their peoples’ wealth and health,
trumpeting fences, walls, tough immigration laws,
etc., etc.  
to keep out and silence all those aliens
     or invade their countries
      and eliminate them

     who otherwise are welcome
     as our partners in the global trade
     that seems to dominate the world of greed

so we can all be ourselves

     whatever that might mean

claiming to solve the problems of tomorrow
     with memories of yesterday
is not only hopeless but quite dangerous

do you remember
what that glorified past
actually was?

the presence
   of your absence
cloaks me like a shroud

I go about my business

yet it takes days
for me to regain balance
and remember that

   the hurt of missing you
   is only the result
of your existence

   the joy of being with you
   will be renewed
in the foreseeable future

only then
can my eyes begin
to smile at the world
again

          * *

the pain
of having to let you
go your way

after such loving days

pulls my face
   into a joyous smile
makes me speak
   words of reassurance
   crack jokes
   ostentatiously enjoy
      a Manhattan at lunch time
   and boisterously hug you
      au revoir

anything
   to overcome
      unshed tears
      the hardening lump in my chest
      the tightening knot in my stomach
      the cold fist that grips my neck
      tightens my throat
      makes my eyes dry
      with the knowledge
         you will not be
         by my side
         for weeks

              * *

now and again
I tend my heart
leave facts and figures behind
   and enter the realm of feeling
where
   like in a primal ocean
float beings about to become
   not easy to classify
   almost before words

somewhat like a school
   of amorphous translucent jellyfish
   good vibes float towards
   a loved one
predatory shapes speed by
   to attack unfriendlies
bright orange-blue flowers
  shine in the wake
   of good food and company
a bright red coral reef
   hovers like a loving kiss
tumultuous slashing of the waves
   feels strong and overwhelming
   in blue-lit foamy white

I float back to the surface
   and
looking at the sky
   whose blue is as deceptive
   as that of the waters
I wait for my heart
   to tell me
which one
   to trust

       * *

to friends and members on this site
I wish a joyful starry night
great company, good food, champagne,
no resolutions that are vain,
to welcome yet another year
and celebrate that we're still here

* * * * * * *  ;-)  :-)  ;-) * * * * * *

about 250 years ago
young Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s tale of Werther’s
passionate unfulfilled love and ensuing suicide
triggered a wave of suicides across all Europe

the author was more than embarrassed  
it is reported he was actually quite shocked
by this effect of his romantic writ

from then on he avoided the portrayal
of hypersensitive romantic youths
    with their emotional entanglements
    and often fatal ends
and preferred dramas of the simpler sort

     like the eternal fight of good and evil
     the striving for almightiness and universal knowledge
     dilemmas of obedience and command
     et cetera

today, like then, young people
go through the stifling pains of unrequited love
and feel they hover at the brink of the abyss
    ready to jump

then, as today, young Werther’s suicide
is nothing but a waste of youthful life
that could have brought him many happy moments
had he allowed himself to stay alive

walking
the streets of Vienna
with you
things come alive

   venerable palaces
   waltzing around St. Stephen's

   beautiful white horses
   from the Spanish Riding School
   galloping through the Schönbrunn Park

   old Sigmund F.
   ogling the Viennese Choir Boys

whenever I hear
Scarlatti’s “per la nativia di G.C.”
it brings tears to my eyes

must be the frequencies
of sounds and voice
that conspire
to touch a source of my being
of which I know not

embodying a loving harmony
I have been longing for
without knowing

simply beautiful

in meadows finally released
from the cold grip of snow
spring flowers look so pleased
so happy they can grow

their leaves unfold
their shiny blossoms bring
bright colors back into our world
and make all birds sing spring

More urgently than driverless cars
we need more car-less drivers!

why is my love so far from me
   why can she not be here
why do I live in a separate world
  and she in another sphere

why can we not walk hand in hand
  and frolick when we please
why do have to wait in pain
  for time to bring release

why did we fall in such fierce love
  that ties our hearts so tight
why did we not resist the pull
  of that immemorable night
  which filled our lives
        with sudden bliss
  and made the world stand still

why do we ravenously miss
  each other's eyes,
             our smiles, the kiss
  that seals our love
             and shrinks all space
  and joins us close
  as long as we just
                will

one summer night
on the shores of Greece
I almost lost myself
coming home late
from a walk along the shore
   gingerly stepping
between
sleeping bundles in the sand

the wind was soft
the sea warm
the moon full
    and hanging low

I shed my clothes
and swam
   southwestward
toward the moon

soon I left
the shore behind
swimming toward the moon
propelled by energy
   an ache
   primeval
   leg and arm

I swam
   like I never swam before

feeling I could go on
forever
very strong
swimming toward the moon

the moon now covered
all the horizon
and I swam right into
her golden light
in silken waters
that caressed my limbs

Dionysos calling

A poem should be palpable and mute  
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown—

A poem should be wordless  
As the flight of birds.

                         *              

A poem should be motionless in time  
As the moon climbs,

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,  
Memory by memory the mind—

A poem should be motionless in time  
As the moon climbs.

                         *              

A poem should be equal to:
Not true.

For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.

For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea—

A poem should not mean  
But be.

in Portugal  here
at the continent's southwestern rim
   where  as the legend says
   enchanted horses and their riders
      turned into rocks
   break up the waves
Hesiod's vision of Atlantis lingers on

and with some luck
you see
the path
that leads to a submerged paradise

yet beware

lest you tread gently
   and with care
the palace falls to ruins
and the fair beautiful women
grow Medusa's hair  

      * *

lost in alien space
Italians
posted their home culture
and worked for it

today
America

and the whole western world

would starve to death
without pasta pizza
and Michelangelo

a long time ago when
    according to the tradition
the three wise men
    already quite a bit exhausted
    for following that star for such a long time
finally found the right place
and looked at the baby eying their gifts
they were relieved to have reached
    their goal & done their duty  
    and   after exchanging the usual pleasantries
they turned around and went back home

little did they know
that their subject of veneration
    would make empires fear him
    and have him crucified
that his death would only last for three days
    and he would spawn a new religion
    of communal sharing and love
    that unhinged old empires and created new ones
that in his name multitudes
    would sacrifice  suffer  die   and ****

little did they know

the little strong man
gives orders
to ****
    to cleanse
         to resist
he reminds
his frightened people
     of the glorious      
old
     victorious times
     and the soul of their nation

and when he is sure
     that no real news
     is shown on state-controlled TV
he broadcasts
     his rousing speeches and
     those heart-warming
patriotic
          movies
of another war
to elevate the fearful

he pretends
     not to be afraid
of laser-guided bombs
cruise missiles
stealth bombers
and unseen stratocruisers
that hit
   or almost hit
carefully selected military targets
and spare civilians

or so they say

the thought that one of my friends
   over there
might die
   as a non-selected target
because of this maniac
heats the blood in my veins
    clenches my fists
       chokes me
        with a wild
fierce
    ravenous
        cold
   ANGER

every day
we say goodbye
     to lovers, family, and friends
expecting we shall see them
     safe and sound
again within short time

we rarely do think why
our trust that there ‘s no crime
     attack or accident
     exploding our expectations
is strong enough to carry us
     above all fears and hesitations
lets us assume that our parting
     will always be just for a while

it may well be the sheer necessity
     of positive assumptions
is what allows us to survive
      to navigate our lives
and to maintain a parting smile on our lips
born from the firm
      possibly desperate belief
our departures never are
      as yet
forever

the world is slowing down

a mist of milky gossamer moves in
between
my will and things to do
the clear shapes of objects
are growing soft and dull
the moment's urgency
yields to my ponderings
   of possible decisions
abstract rigidity arrests the words
things stay forever as they are

   is it a sense of death
   that delicately touches on my neck
   and steals from me the comfort
   of continuous change?

life seems to walk away
in long and measured stride
the kitchen clock has never been so fast

it measures time
from here up to the stars

it counts
and blows
the moments of my delicate eternity
one by one
into the past

* *

the turns of life
are many

few of them
we have foreseen or planned

yet somehow we have managed
to survive

to tell a tale
of useful flexibility

and luck

the white-haired patriarch
   beard and moustache    
    a bit colonial  
benignly smiles
   at the United Nations building
   at Times Square
   and at 8th Avenue
where hot-pantied women
   in buzzing crowds
date strangers
   to share their loneliness

humidity is high
    on muggy summer afternoons
at the core
   of the Big Apple

          * *

dear Donald
fare thee well
and may you roast
in hell
for all the damage
you have caused

too many years
of mutual grief suppressed
had left
   it seems
only a craving for 'revenge'
and for material security
    in her

and while he would have gladly
left her everything
he needed some things
for himself

and so they fought

it seems the bipolar view
of US vs. THEM
the cry that WE
are always the victims
of all these aliens
has also caught on
among some European idiotic leaders
who seriously believe
that building walls and fences
would make their countries great again

fact is that keeping all refugees out
is not only inhuman and unlawful

it shrinks our concepts
of the wonderful diversity of our world

down to a tunnel vision
of global monotony

as boring as it gets!

watching purported heads of state
stage their pr shows on their national television
     aired internationally
for very obvious purposes

makes you wonder
whether these so-called politicians
really believe they speak to total idiots
or have just lost the ground under their feet

in the end, though,
*** do I worry

the results are the same

When I consider how my days are spent,
with work that leads to work, with little time for meditation
except for a few moments, now and then
on trains, or planes, or in the car,
at times I feel our Western civilization,
may not have taken us so very far.

Not that I am ungrateful for electric light:
it eases one of our deepest fears -
of nights that cast a dazzling darkness on creation
until another sun returns it to our appreciation.

Yet I do wonder if our brilliant sight
derived from deftly harnessed natural powers
makes us indeed see more of that strange world of ours
than saw an old man's dimming vision under candlelight.

it makes you wonder
that Christianity’s important celebration
    welcoming the wondrous birth of the savior
    by a ****** mother
seems to have become mostly a holiday for children

they happily believe in Santa and his reindeers
    or in the Christ child & its servant
    depending on the region and its customs
expecting the delivery of gifts with shiny eyes
accepting the miracle of sleighs & animals
flying across the sky without questioning

adults nod knowingly & smile

yet there are many
    children at heart
who still believe that some benevolent high power
will shower them with presents from above
if only they  retain their sense of awe and wonder
keep their miraculous beliefs of yonder

when we look sideways
at a subject/object of desire

do we see what is there
     or what we want to see

glances may blur the image
    distort the view
    reflect realities of our dreams

yet often they determine our actions

and thus

the rest of our lives

a glance
   a word
      a gesture
         a little sigh
      a formula
    the neighbor’s greetings
  the train schedule
a note on your door

quite clear to understand
not long ago
now seem to foster
strange significances

the code for
unequivocal interpretation
   no longer works
ambiguity hovers in mid-air

you hesitate    and ponder
before you speak
begin to choose words carefully
   hoping
   against your knowing
that this would make them clearer
yet feeling that it does not really matter
that whatever you say

may be received quite differently
from what it is meant to convey

likewise
what you hear and see
appears to lack precision
   possible meanings
   proliferating connotations
   of irony, deceit, hidden aggression
threaten to shroud familiar sense
make you question old axioms
in fearful apprehension of unperceived realities

signs of a loss of self?
your brain dissolving?
senility approaching before its time?
or just too much of that foie gras and cabernet
the night before?
will it be gone tomorrow
    with bright sunshine and blue skies
or darken your remaining days
    under leaden clouds of doubts and insecurity?

Or is all this just a reminder
that you should take
   nothing
for granted and that
the only constant in life
is
change?

           * *

now and again
I tend my heart
leave facts and figures behind
and enter the realm of feeling
where
   like in a primal ocean
float beings about to become
   not easy to classify
   almost before words

somewhat like a school
   of amorphous translucent jellyfish
   good vibes float towards
   a loved one
predatory shapes speed by
   to attack unfriendlies
bright orange-blue flowers
shine in the wake
   of good food and company
a bright red coral reef
   hovers like a loving kiss
tumultuous slashing of the waves
   feels strong and overwhelming
   in blue-lit foamy white

I float back to the surface
    and
looking at the sky
   whose blue is as deceptive
   as that of the waters
I wait for my heart
to tell me
which one
to trust

       * *

cowgirls don‘t ride sidesaddle
unless they completely skedaddle
but even then, since their birth,
they hold on with great mirth
to that wonderful horn on their saddle

listening to contemporary soundscapes on the radio
I realize I am the  age of my grandmother
when she was terrified that I was
happily howling the latest Beatles  songs
and trying to play them on the piano which
    for her
was a sanctuary of late 19th century music
she liked to play with virtuosity and passion

much of what my culture radio station
calls contemporary music
or pop music stations praise in their charts
does not really catch my ear either

times keep changing

the time your feelings
are only at your back
    and not in front of you
it may not be so wise
to start another tryst

emotions hanging in mid-air
suspended in a cosmic cold
might gravely chill
whatever the new fire

make your attempted new desire
dire

when no mornings
follow nights
cities lie without their lights
little beasts root happily
children can live all their fears
   forests break
   mountains shake
then it’s time again

rockets roar with deadly freight
sharp explosions rock the night
   soldiers shoot
   graveyards bloom
it is war

when scrawny skeletons
creep through the streets
parents weep
dead bodies radiate
   new death
and crumpled shapes
   spread more disease
then it’s time again

the general orders strategic attacks
and watches how the metropolis cracks
   rivers stink
   battleships sink
it is war

when the bakers bake no more bread
when the butchers chop off their hands
when the doctors’ only prescription is death
   corpses float in the village pond
   and supermarkets stay closed
         24 hours a day
then it’s time again

maybe the ultimate time
for the warriors to storm from their heights
to the valleys to lance and destroy
   they also **** women
   all children are dead
   the moon is all red
   the stars are so wan

   we are counting the corpses
   as long as we can

it is war