#177 (traces of lavender)

grey puddles

taunting his wet ankles

splish-splash

the droning of constant

rainfall blocking out the

soft vows he whispered

in the sweetest of embraces

traces of lavender

rekindling the memory

of that night under the stars

when all the lights had seemed

to dance for the two of them

the full moon their witness

cirrus clouds crowning cheerful heads

 

24th July 2017

 

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#156 (the physician)

a crunching sound

too close to home

on rotting ground

a pale, old dome

once held the mind

of one, now lost

whose feelings, thoughts

had turned to dust


a physician once said to me

there was no loss of energy

So dark-red zinnias

growing out

the shallow grave

might have been doubts

to flee a fate

already doomed

in moss and grass

his fears now loom


no stone unturned

no cash unburned

still gazing into

pools of clay

the thread is thin

yet still he tries

to capture secrets

deep within

below the brim

of knowledge’s keep

the soil holds all

forever deep


23rd June 2017

 

 

 

#136 (two pennies)

the final blow

left a mark

a narrative of white lines

on my forehead

between my temples

a river of agony

constantly flowing

spreading through my spine

the first line

the one I forgot to write

is haunting me

ever since

the thick blanket

of amnesia

clubbing my verse

to death and beyond

my tale has grown restless

no tears left to shed

no fucks left to give

just two pennies

one for the ferryman

one for a last drink

I think

29th April 2017

#94 (the ruins of my habit)

ivy
photo credit: Matthias Geh

 

cradling

my thoughts

all died

in a landfill

between here

and nowhere

 

blackmail

returning

to sender

sudden rush

of panic

while the gashes

of your brazen words

are still festering

among the ruins

of my habit

uncorking

shared fates

*tween the lines

in the sand

or was it quicksand

treacherous slopes

of memory

letting me slip

like the fish

that escaped the net

trashing around

in another prison

they cannot touch


*25th December 2016

#91 (three tales about grief)

three
photo credit: Matthias Geh

1.

he was reading

some books about stars

on the steps

how his heart started bleeding

when he thought about Beth

realizing how she

had been taken

by Death

 


2.

I was circling

some words

in a text about birds

as it hit like a rock

while the doves kept

on staring

never would I be able

to sit next beside

my dear grandmother

once  a clay cottage

bride


3.

she was brushing

her hair

when some strains

circled down

memory hit her

abruptly

of a delicate clown

who had brought

her to tears then

but right now

it was clear that

his life had been lost

joking one hour too long

in a sudden, grim frost


*18th December 2016

#34

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

hoch sensibel

niedrig schwellig

schlaf los

werfe worte in den mixer

unbekümmert auf hochtouren


ein paar stunden schlaf

der große traum

und all die kleinen, filigranen

schmetterlingsträume & ich

fliegen über den horizont

fallen gemeinsam vom rand

der welt


 

hinauf in den wirbel

meiner vorstellungskraft

oben ist unten und wo unten ist

habe ich vergessen

niemand weist den weg

ins zentrum der erinnerung


highly sensitive

low threshold

blending words

freewheeling on high speed


a couple hours of sleep

the great dream

and all the small, delicate

butterfly dreams & I

flying beyond horizons

falling from the edge of

the world


up into the maelstrom

of my imagination

up is down and I forgot

where is down

nobody knows the way

to memory central


 

*matthias geh,  3rd February 2016