>fleeting moments

>maybe it never happened – really
but i thought i can see it
like the airy swing of grass blades in the summer wind
or a seconds flickering of light on the beach
caused by fast passing clouds

i also thought i can feel it
like the unintended touch of a stranger in a crowded bus
or the swishing leaves that streak your naked arms and legs
when you climb up a tree

and i was almost sure i smelled it
for some seconds
as if the wind carries the scent of fresh baked bread
when you drive past your favorite bakery

but when i wanted to grab it
it was gone
and the more i thought about it
and the more i wished it would emerge
the more it escaped and drew back

i wanted it to last – and struggled
to find out what it was
that felt so sweet and desirable

i wanted to explore and fractionalize it
and find the formula to replicate

but maybe these moments
are just not made to be re-played

they are unique – precious – fleeting
they are born and they vanish – almost at the same time
and that’s why they never wear out
and that’s why i never get tired of them

Check out one shot wednesday - a gathering place for poets and writers to read more or link a poem yourself

>a ride on the night train

>i know i stand in line…
and nothing goes backwards and forwards

i wanna steal away – run away
and escape life’s tight grip
that holds me with iron chains
shake off all pressure and duties
and take a ride on the night train

i’m the only passenger
i’m disconnected
i’m restless
i’m unmastered
i’m wild
and i run through these corridors like a mad man
and search for tomorrows like a child

and i touch the emptiness of this place with all senses
and i connect to empty spaces like a lover

there’s nothing to see ’cause it’s dark
and there’s nothing to hear ’cause it’s silent
but there’s speed – and i feel it

my forehead leans against the window
it’s cool and damp from condensed breath
and my fingers draw lines through the fog
create a picture
and wipe it away into moist spots,
that drip down my hands and arms
and leave dirty trails of incomplete works of art
and missed opportunities

and when the window gets fogged up again
with warm breath – lips almost touching
i look into the eyes of a stranger
and i wonder – are you with me on that train?
are you with me in this silence?
are you running the corridors next to me?
are you..?

when i get out
i’m neatly dressed
i’ve washed off the watermarks on my arms
like i never got out of line
like i never asked questions
like i never painted on fogged up windows

no one has seen me – taking the night train

…except for the engineer
and when i walk past the locomotive
i see his eyes..

This was written for Carry on Tuesday - jump over there to read more “i know i stand in line” stories
….and to explain it a bit…when writing this i had psalm 139 in mind – no matter where i am – he will see me and is already there – and my darkness is not dark for him but shines like the day

>160 – playing life with a half-time feeling

>the beat of life gets faster
i struggle to play along in time…in line…breathless
half-time switch
pace stable
B R E A T H E 
now…there’s space for my melody

sometimes life seems just too fast paced – and in our Saxophone workshop last Sunday, we were talking about the half-time feeling. So the beat stays just the same – but the improvising musician changes semiquavers to quavers to crotchets and plays less – is more relaxed and that gives a mood change to the whole piece – and some space to breathe and relax for the musician…
Say it in 160 characters (spaces included..) and visit Monkey Man to link up or read others

>what remains

>your hand feels good
on the curve of my hip
and warmth and reliance
drips from it like honey
and melts and blends with my skin

after a while i can’t tell
where i end and you start

and i listen to your deep breath
as your hand slowly slips down
slack of sleep

and what remains
is an imprint of trust and protection
that spreads from hip to heart

and didn’t fade
when i got up to write these lines
to make it last for tomorrow

>55 – Watersong

>Tic – toc – tic – toc
the clock is my only companion this early morning

You look so sad – with your leaves hanging down…
…I was too busy to water you

And I wonder what else i forgot…
to do – say – feel…

And I long to sing my watersong into the darkness
and let you rain on me…

Friday flash 55 – tell a story in 55 words – and link it back to g-man
If you wanna read more water-posts, have a look at Thursday Think Tank..

>prose dust

>some poems are born in that small space
between just being awake and falling asleep
they surf through my mind like restless seagulls
screeching their message towards my sleepy ears
when all filters are already shut down

and they have a walk-over – unhindered
they drift – full speed ahead – through my brain
the streets are theirs – not much traffic
as if you drive on a highway at 3 in the morning

and they start to mold like clouds as they move and change
and get a structure and a face
and i wonder if i would like them if i were their reader

but i’m no reader and no writer then
just a feeler…
and i try to feel their pulse as they pass by
all fragments – carrying tiny baskets of prose pollen
and loose some on their way
and it falls with the wind… and dusts my sleepy face

and i… let it happen.. and enjoy their tender touch
while they slide past like small boats on a quiet river
and i just watch them as the wind blows their sails
and enjoy their fragility… until i loose sight

and i wonder what it was
that made me get up and write this one down
while others slip away
and remain forever unwritten

maybe it was just because i liked how it felt
when its dust touched my face like a tender kiss
and i wanted to be kissed again
while i sit with low light – ready to let happen
whatever it would do

Check out one shot wednesday - a gathering place for poets and writers to read more or link a poem yourself

>160 – the hunt

>take your spear
and hunt down some food for your family
and when you come back to our cave
bear in tow….muscular…..sweaty…..scratched
i’ll take good care of you

..hubby was on his way to buy some Döner Kebap for dinner…
Say it in 160 characters (spaces included..) and visit Monkey Man to link up or read others

>a true savior

>

i may have spent all of my life
lying in this bath tub – watching my toes – splashing the bubbles
and suffer silently

and every bubble
that burst with a muted tsssch – close to my ears
hardly audible for anyone else
was a quiet accusation

i wouldn’t have gone anywhere
think i was just too afraid to leave..
at least the water was warm and gave me some kind of comfort
while i was drowning in guilt and hopelessness

and when you came and pulled that stopper
(for whatever reason i allowed you to do so..)
i gasped in horror – watching all my safety disappear
slipping from my hands in slow spinning circles
until i lay naked and stripped of all i had built my life upon

you were there, this moment of utmost vulnerability
and you took a towel and wrapped it around my shivering soul
and held me tight – close to your heart
and it felt like coming home
when you whispered lover’s words – and covered my bareness

This was written for magpie tales – jump over there and read others as well

>55 – fireflies

>i wish we had more fireflies
to dance in my garden on nights like this
when i can’t sleep & sit in the dark
and watch the black night sky

i would imagine they’d dance just for me
glaring like fen fires on the moor

and i watch them carry their sparkling lanterns
through half closed eyelids

before i fall asleep
on fresh mowed lawn

Friday flash 55 – tell a story in 55 words – and link it back to g-man

>on shaken kingdoms & flower trails

>my house is a house of tears today
and my kingdom is shaken
’cause the princess left for Bolivia

my princess’ flower-painted bike
is standing in our garage
and everywhere i go, i see her colors shine
she’s left flower trails in my heart
and wherever she went
you won not only me with the love
you breathe so naturally
and with the seeds you sow along the way

and now – i let go – happily
and say good bye to a part of my life for a while
it’s the right time for you to fly
Basle – Frankfurt – Sao Paulo – La Paz
take-off into a new adventure

my princess has left
to take that brush, she painted her bike
and my heart with
and paints flowers of hope for bolivian children
when some of them lost everything
and you will win their hearts like you won mine
when you help ‘em learn to read and write
and reveal places of beauty and light
with gentle brushstrokes

This monday my 19 year old daughter left for a year in Bolivia. She will help in a school with around 4600 students – some of them with their parents in prison or having drug problems. She will write a blog – but didn’t decide so far if she continues in german or switches to english – if you wanna have a look..
http://gedankenschleifen.blogspot.com/

This poem is for imperfect prose on thursdays and for theme thursday
check out the links to read more or link up a poem or a story yourself