Archive for the ‘3 – Wild Words’ Category
Trees
I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
Vraagstuk
Als je stopt met schrijven, ben je dan ook geen schrijver meer?
En is een schrijver die veel schrijft meer schrijver dan hij die maar een verhaal schrijft?
Peep. Show.
[Facebook poem | work in collaboration with Barbara Bervoets]
This –
wretched breathing machine,
this dream,
heaves shipwrecked moments of happiness
onto the shores of our screen.
This –
kingdom of endless parades
this wonder room, this lullaby connected
Watches us, watching
As we rummage
through fragments
of lives dissected
and pray that beyond
this crowded heaving amphitheatre
we find a technicoloured reality
brighter than our own.
Betrayal
Should you come search
to see if I have stayed,
betray not my lair.
Should you come search
to see if I have stayed,
search not dark corners
snatch not rags
howl not my name
into the endless white wilderness
Be still and sniff the musty air,
trace a finger along carelessly abandoned notes,
scribbled pain
press your palm into the warm hollow of my departure.
Should you come search,
to see if I have stayed,
sit quietly
in the deserted relics
of my sanctuary.