fernweh // distance aChe? // there’s no good english word for this

acrylics on canvas/by me/i took a table top drawing class...smiles

acrylics on canvas/by me/i took a table top drawing class…smiles

.
it’s a bit as if the girders
of a huge bridge
press firm steel liPs on my flesh,
somewhere close the womb
unexpected teXtured//
on first touch

i can ignore it only
for so long–

or a million bright, red bugs
crawl inside my pant legs,
tumble nose-first in my socks
and bed their heads in the warm hollow
of my armpits &

each time i move
there’s this metallic
clAck cLiCK cLack —-

sound like wheels on railtracks,
rattling north//south, east or west,
it doesn’t matter really
somewhere//fernWeh,
distant aChe
hits like giant boxing gloves
the moment i take off//
roots// restLess

“you’re done with traveling for this year?”
“dunno” i say, “nothing planned
yet– ” but

a thousand grinding rings
in multi-colored facettes,
spiN cirCles (think of Mogli & the serpent)
hyp//No//tiZed, the aching iMprint
of its kiss
& scent of iron heaVy

on my skin

.

anna has us write conceit in poetry for MTB at dVerse today.. using unexpected or surprising images/metaphors… doors open at 3pm EST …see you then… and happy thanksgiving to my american friends…smiles

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30 responses to “fernweh // distance aChe? // there’s no good english word for this

  1. smiles. i know the need to travel runs deep in you claudia, i have a similar wish but little means by which to do it…ha…i would love to visit europe, one day….i like how you unveil that feeling, the need to go and see and experience life…it never ends, only awaits the next opportunity…smiles.

  2. “sound like wheels on railtracks,
    rattling north//south, east or west,
    it doesn’t matter really
    somewhere//fernWeh,”

    That “it doesn’t matter” goes at the heart of this poem. It’s written in such a visceral, raw way. I loved it Many thanks.

    Greetings from London.

  3. Oh to travel.. can be an itch, can be a duty… but it does affect us.. a couple of years ago I traveled for work so much — I didn’t want to travel when i was on holiday… Especially that itch… yes that one I can feel sometimes… but it can also be like a heavy bag of lard strapped to my torso..

  4. Claudia…I have the strange feeling that your suitcases will have to be replaced several times before you ever stop traveling…I mean there is so much world to see and some places have to be seen more than once…take good care…enjoyed your poem much.

  5. That sound like it might be a bit debilitating. Thought of homesickness when you are far away from home at first, but this seems worse – if it were true.

  6. not much train use here on the western slope of the fading continent, Claudia, but I remember the click clack of train wheels from Bruges to Paris one winter decades ago, anticipating reconnecting with my girlfriend who had gone to France for a year to study. I wonder if that’s akin to the feeling… ~

  7. Really nailed the prompt, Claudia–oh to be French kissed by a steel bridge girder, or to have a million bugs crawl up your pants leg; your wanderlust is paramount to your ID, it seems. Maybe you should be writing Travel Guide books; there’s always a market for them; smiles.

  8. Claudia I had a thousand little red ants crawling up both trouser legs. People in the park never SAW a pair of pants be thrown off so quickly. Fireants!

    As to the “travel ItCh”…only thing keeps me in place are the three W’s: Weather, Wampum, Wife. (“wampum” are small beads which Native Americans used for MONEY. Early settlers loved that b/c they could buy whatever they wanted for a few beads.
    Your (kindred) travel thoughts bring me to that SO familiar, favorite place:

    “…I must go down to the sea again,
    to the lonely sea and the sky,
    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star
    to steer her by,..”
    –Masefiled

    Of course, I’d have to abandon kitchen table to follow that urge. I’m guessing your art teacher is LOVING your painting progress. I think it is LOVELY!

  9. First– Claudia –what a really great painting. It is just wonderful. Second — I guess we have wanderlust in English, which is probably German in origin. It is so great that you can travel so and share it with us–a very cool poem about that urge. Thanks. k.

  10. Oh Claudia – you have a travelers heart. It’s said there are people who will always want to see what is on the other side of the hill, and the hill after that and the one after that. A gypsy heart. A wanderer who is seldom lost.

    Great poetry here, and another wonderful painting!

  11. I have a travel bug too. You are in a glorious place to venture with little cost. Hopping the trains to places unknown. Sometimes a calling like to Sedona where I MUST go and it’s planned in three weeks and I’m gone. Finances a strain but very much relate to aching to be somewhere “over there”.

  12. “spiN cirCles (think of Mogli & the serpent)
    hyp//No//tiZed, the aching iMprint” found my attention returning to these lines, as if the words became the act they were referring to… wonderfully strange!

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