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Jun 2016 · 1.9k
beyond-1
it is tempting to lose yourself
in the pleasure of wordly possessions
money, cars, yachts, beautiful things

the Dagobert Duck syndrome

as we know
even the pharaos of ancient times
together with assorted kings and emperors
chiefs, dukes, presidents, popes, & cetera,
could only take their toys
into their graves
and not beyond

we do not know for sure
    although we may believe
if immaterial possessions
have a better fate

yet even though we do not know
what our final moment brings

a thoughtful wrinkle on your brow
looks always better than
a bleak array of orphaned things
Jun 2016 · 1.9k
the act
sometime it is
in the act of writing
that we create the sense
of what we want to say

as if the process of articulation
    when we are fishing for the proper words
is generating meaning
inventing itself in its own genesis

leaving the poet amazed

sometimes even the readers
Jun 2016 · 9.8k
humankind
the other day
I occupied a chair
at a sidewalk café
watching the vanity fair of the quotidian
float by in quickly changing apparitions

an endless flow of different ages, nations, fashions,
skin colors, miens, ****** expressions, postures & gaits
kept passing through  my field of vision

it made me wonder why
some people get so furious
when they  just hear about
    not even meet
    the ‘others’ different from themselves
that they start dropping  bombs and shooting rockets

I think they rather should be curious
and eager to discover
how the immense variety of humankind
can help expand a locally grown mind

and recognize
that we are all of the same kind
May 2016 · 1.3k
do we indeed
like many stoutly claim
    as members of some Christian faith
love our neighbors as we love ourselves

then why do we look down on those
    of different creeds and cultures
    skin color, clothes, or hats
suggest to keep them out by building walls,
suspect them of barbarian ways,
let them drown,
put them in camps,
build fences,
stop them at our borders,
prefer
   in short
to have them elsewhere

maybe we should love ourselves much more
so we can better love
the tired, hungry, and the poor
who come to our shores and borders
     in search of safety and shelter,
     freedom, and human dignity

let us remain easy, and truer
to the spirit of our Liberty,
remembering our heritage
     and that of our parents
     and their parents
most likely immigrants from somewhere
looking for a better place
    to have a life and rear their children

it helps to see our neighbors as our friends
rather than enemies
and love them like we love ourselves
May 2016 · 1.1k
wor(l)dpower
creates our universe
our gods
makes armies clash
defines our world
    always again and new
names everything
   we then can talk about

lets politicians sound as if
    they were our saviors
lends voice to protests
    also well-phrased obedience
articulates all complicated laws
    and sometimes even makes them clear
makes us hate people
    or fall crazily in love with them

more difficult, it seems,
is to find words for our hearts and souls

    how to express your love
    appropriate to the occasion

    or to describe a painting by Degas,
    Rubens, Kokoschka, Michelangelo,
    the impact of a symphony
    or a performance on the drama stage
    
to catch the words for what we feel
is much more difficult
than to imagine those for what we see

it is the poets’ challenge to give shape
to all the hopes, loves, fears, and phantasies
in our lives

so we can make the power of the word
the power of the world
May 2016 · 856
connected 24/7
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
May 2016 · 511
pulse of life
you feel it
when you clutch your wrist
before you cut

remember

it's your only one
May 2016 · 873
beauty
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
May 2016 · 1.6k
mothers all
for those whose mothers are no more
the annual business hype of what to give
    and where to take your mother
is but  a sad remembrance of loss
stirring up memories of happier times
when she was still a pillar in your universe
loved and revered, and sometimes feared,
who taught you, patiently or not,  
the basics of survival in your expanding world.

She knew, while you were as yet unaware  
that all her loving preparations
would over time mean separation.

When you struck out to shape your life
all by yourself and left her with her fears for you,
her wishes,  and the hopes that what she tried
to give you was enough and right,
your heart and mind were elsewhere,  far away,
focused upon the future of your independent life.

Your years run fast and busy, and suddenly one day
you stand before her coffin
and discover that it is too late
for all the questions never asked.

What you have left are memories
and a vague sense of having missed the chance
to see - and maybe even understand a little -
the woman she has also been
throughout her life, behind her loving face
of a dear mother’s care and grace.
The recent Mother’s Day triggered these lines and made me remember the time when my mother was alive.]
May 2016 · 633
THANKS FOR THE *DAILY*
to all my fellow poets who were kind
enough to read my verse with the somewhat
forbidding title “not about you”
like it despite of it and
     more than that
elected it as Daily

as well to those
who sent nice messages
and greetings

I send warm thanks

you made my day

a sunny one
opened bright patches of blue sky
between wet clouds
and brought me better morning news
than any of my papers could provide

Merci once more
The "DAILY" was a lovely surprise on an otherwise rather grey morning.
May 2016 · 1.6k
universe
when we think idle thoughts and ****** with our mind
we might as well just blandly look into the sky
and absent-mindedly pursue the flights of distant birds
against the matrix of blue firmaments
which seem less infinite than our imaginary universe

trying to look beyond that globe of blue
we venture into depths that really make us think
about the cosmos out in space
infinite stars and planets of unknown identity

we soon become aware
that our idle thoughts are dwarfed
by the immenseness of the space
through which not quite discovered forces
propel our planet with incredible speed
to destinies we do not know

perhaps in order to avoid acknowledgement
of this precarious reality
we fill our lives with more comforting things
fashions  wars  power games  religion  money  
internet chats  with other avatars  et cetera

anything to distract us from the contemplation
of insights into how to live
   in such a transient indeterminacy
with a determined sense of goal and meaning

think about it
Apr 2016 · 8.2k
not about you
this poem
is not about you

even though
your spirit is in every word
your voice sounds strong
in the halls of my mind
telling me things
I am now sure
I want to know

this poem is
about me

trying to understand
you
Apr 2016 · 1.0k
to write or not to write
is not the question

when we have thoughts
we think we should put down
make known to the wide world

we often hesitate
ponder if it is worth the while

afraid of being shunned
called names
et cetera
by people who believe they know
how proper writing should be done

welllllllll ….

I believe if one makes all the effort
to tell us how s/he feels and thinks
all we should do is

LISTEN!
Apr 2016 · 730
wisecrack no. 3
It is better to light a single candle
than only complain about the darkness.
From my mother-in-law...
Apr 2016 · 803
wisecrack no. 2
More urgently than driverless cars
we need more car-less drivers!
;-)  my own
Apr 2016 · 1.7k
wisecrack no. 1
mirror, mirror on the wall...
what the HELL happened?!
Found recently
Mar 2016 · 1.1k
AGAIN!
hardly a day goes by
without the news
of yet more suicide attacks
that **** mothers and children
     innocently playing in parks
     listening to their favorite songs
friends chatting over tea and coffee
expectant travelers on their way
     to business  family  or lovers

the perpetrators of such deeds
must be a very lonely crowd
with eyes as empty as their hearts
and frozen souls that harbor the illusion
       that cowards will turn heroes
       that killing innocents is brave
       that the world will recognize their great importance
            when they bring ****** ends to happy lives

it will not come to pass

no peace
     in this   or any other world
can find its way to them
who ****** in cold blood
Mar 2016 · 1.3k
I WONDER
WHY THOSE ALMIGHTY GODS
OF WHATYEVER CONFESSION
WOULD NEED THE HELP
OF WEAK HUMANS
FOR THEIR SURVIVAL

IT DOES NOT MAKE SENSE

UNLESS THEY ARE
     IN REALITY
THE CREATIONS OF THOSE
WHO **** TO SAVE THEM(SELVES)
Mar 2016 · 1.1k
concerted NO!
there seems to be no end
of armed cowards killing peaceful civilians
about to do their jobs or visit friends and chat
at airports  in the underground or in cafés

and then acknowleding full responsibility
for that grandiose achievement
of putting electric wires into some explosives
and sending innocent people to their death

these self-styled martyrs claim
their deeds are prompted by religious ends
and not the simply joy of killing those
     who have no arms for their defense
    and are quite unaware they have become the targets
     of delirious murderers who seriously imagine
     their heinous crimes could please their god
     and   if they blow themselves away together with their victims
     would send them straight into a paradise
     with many earthly and some heavenly rewards

or so they say

watching them over all these years
I have my doubts
that any god has business with those guys
    or they with him

     like other groups before them they abuse religion
     to justify their greed and power games
     god for them is simply a façade
     to mask their inhumanity

it’s time the world says a concerted NO
and makes it clear to all barbarians of our century
that our tolerance
is not for them
Mar 2016 · 1.1k
spring has come (reposted)
on the first day of spring
my mother died

she had always loved flowers
and had turned
our interior hallway
into a luscious greenhouse
   father was not always happy
   about the falling leaves

in her later years
when skiing was no longer hers
she hated winters
   their long nights
   their waning sun

she was always longing
   for spring
waiting for the day
the morning sun lit up
the kitchen desk again
in her parents’ house
where she was born
   and had grown old

the night before
I had called and told her
that here in the south
the first flowers were already
   dotting the gardens

she had smiled on the phone
   almost inaudibly
speaking had become difficult

   maybe her last images
   were of colorful spring meadows

today at 7.10 a.m.
my mother died

spring has come
On the occasion of the 10th anniversary of my mother's unexpcted death.
Mar 2016 · 941
not good company?
it may well be that I no longer am good company
     or that I never have been anyway

it’s not that people make me feel like that

it is myself that questions me
and I am spending more time with myself
     than anybody else

I have noticed lately
a touch of crankiness
looking at me out of the bathroom mirror

I wonder why

is it just age encroaching on my life
with its assorted ailments
or disillusionment of archived teenage dreams

I look again at the reflection of myself
and see what I did miss before

there is a spark of youthful mischief in these eyes
even the serious bearded lips seem ready for ironic smiles

maybe no everything is lost

maybe I can myself keep company
for some more years with little strife

even, perhaps, until the end of my sweet life
Mar 2016 · 737
question
will we finally know
what we have always
   wanted to
when our lives end
   long expected
   always too sudden

or will it just be
   once more
the old wisdom
that we know little
   and that
at the wrong time
Mar 2016 · 1.6k
silence
when we hear the silence
in our closed eyes
direct it into our soul
let it conclude its work
become our consciousness

far from the world’s noise
if only for moments
in secret    with no audience
we become one
with nature quietly shaping our lives
Mar 2016 · 1.6k
dangerous harvest
those who are big of mouth
apparently believe that putting down the other
      calling them names & pepper them with slurs
might get them some advantage in the race
for the position that they crave

they better harken back
to the old wisdom of their mothers

those who sow dragon’s teeth
will harvest dragons
Mar 2016 · 2.0k
your self
there are the times
when clouds obscure our view
of blue ethereal skies
and our world grows dark and desolate

days are monotonous and gray
nothing can put a smile into our face
we see the whole confounded human race
doomed to pernicion and without God’s grace

this is the time when it is useful to remember
that it is YOU who calls the shots
YOU who decides what road to follow
YOU who determines where to go
rest, linger, or proceed

so you can truly say
these are the actions of yourself
for which you need

nobody else
Mar 2016 · 3.6k
so sorry
we look at TV screens that show
thousands of persecuted and bombed-out families
on the run for safety and sheer survival

so sorry

borders are shuttered now
the boat is full   no more come in
we have to think of ourselves

so sorry

we sincerely regret that you
are suffering from cold and rain and snow
in your rickety makeshift camps

so sorry

we are sure there’s someone
to take care of all that mess

it’s just not us

so sorry
these Sunday mornings feel like endless seas
I’m slowly floating toward the horizon
immersed in bluish mist through which
the rising sun sends warming rays

sleepy I gaze through frosted window panes
     there is a world out there
yet somehow all that I can see
are hazy shapes of luscious breakfast items
set upon the table beckoning
together with the morning papers
for me to settle down and eat and read
     without time’s breath upon my neck
no need to hurry   jump into my clothes
rush out and try to catch the bus

the news is terrible as usual
but somehow less important than on other days
whether the stocks are high or low
abroad   at home   the dollar falls or rises
affects me moderately at best

it seems a lazy morning spawns a lazy brain
noises of busy-ness seek access here in vain
headlines are read without concern and soon forgotten
all systems are content with letting go
and feel besotten with the prospect of a pleasurable day

     nice picknick on the common green
     a game of badminton to have some exercise
     delicious dinner at my favorite restaurant
    
night comes much earlier than you surmise
on your way home you see the half-moon rise
you vaguely wonder where the day has gone
before you rest your head after no work well done
Mar 2016 · 720
filling our days
when we are young
we fill our days
with everything that comes along
seductive glances lead us on
pleasures delight our senses
we feel great and strong

then comes a time
when days are filled
with children  family  and work  
with barbecues perfectly grilled
the same old jokes told for a rhyme
and little else

transition to our later years
fills days with memories of earlier ones
life’s frost has whitened our hair
we may start thinking how we were
when blood was fresh in our bones
when we faced our future with all trust  no fears

by now we know what filling our days should hold
that our thinking may be clear and bold
provoking to the young and make them dare
think their own brilliant thoughts and be aware
that we have all the time the world can give
but none to spare
“There's time enough, but none to spare” are the final words in Charles W. Chesnutt’s novel “The Marrow of Tradition” (1901) about the white racist coup in Wilmington, N. C., in 1898.
Mar 2016 · 1.2k
why write anything?
sometimes I wonder why I bother
to force myself to tell an other
what are my feelings and opinions

why do I struggle to attempt to phrase
words that inhabitants of faraway dominions
might also understand and not erase
an alien text for lack of recognition
of what it tries to say

is it just egomaniacal vanity
born of conviction that my words
are so important that only nerds
would not appreciate the wisdom
inherent in my thoughts

or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession
to spew forth words without control
and flood the world and every living soul
with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning

I guess I write in order to communicate and share
exchange ideas across all boundaries
learning the thoughts of many different people
and in the process become even more aware
how much we share and have in common

carrying away once more the recognition
that division has always been
      and still remains until this day
the favorite tool of greedy politicians
against which poets   firmly   should hold sway
Mar 2016 · 1.5k
spring flowers
the other day
     it felt like overnight
spring flowers had appeared across the meadows
      cowslips  spring snowflakes   crocuses   daisies  daffodils

they tell me
in a little while  it will be spring
no matter that white caps still decorate the mountains
storms blow rain  sleet and snow across the land

the flowers know

they will not fold their leaves
grow back into their cozy soil and wait some more
they will defy a few more frosty days
slow down a little in their flow of energy
then blossom forth in all their power

show us that nature’s life renews itself again in force
no matter what our mood might be

flowers will bloom
how do I write about the beauty of the world
when barefoot people pass before my window
in search of shelter

how do I share my pleasure of the birds' sweet song at dawn
when I see faces etched with panic
from the deafening blast of bombs

how to rejoice in love and friendship
when meeting people who could barely save their lives
after burying their loved ones

how can I write with passion of the kindness of the human heart
when I see thousands fleeing from the ruins of their homes
only to face police   walls   barbed wire

true words are hard to find
as said a poet of an older war

    when it is a lie to speak
    a lie to keep silent

not easy
The poet from which my last two lines come: John Balaban, Vietnam War veteran:
“A poet had better keep his mouth shut,” he writes in “Saying Good-by to Mr. and Mrs. My, Saigon, 1972”:
unless he’s found words to comfort and teach.
Today, comfort and teaching themselves deceive
and it takes cruelty to make any friends
when it is a lie to speak, a lie to keep silent.
Mar 2016 · 6.6k
cold world
it seems we live in times
when helping hands extend only reluctantly
to those in dire need who had to leave
     the ruins of their devastated homes
     not waiting for more bombs to fall
to those who had to save their lives
     from the barbaric rule of self-styled prophets
and those whose simple love of education
     was met with inane terror and oppression

why is it that so many people
     are afraid of them and think
     these desperate refugees are perpetrators
          not the victims

why is it that the nations most responsible
      for chaos and destruction in these countries
           far from their own safe shores
      are the least willing to accommodate
      those they have driven from their homes

good Samaritans have become scarce
only a few today share their possessions
     with those who are in greater need

our humanity has been outsourced
to NGOs and sundry other institutions
to whom we donate so they feed
the hungry   poor   and the displaced

it makes one wonder whether shameless greed
has indeed  
    and without any saving grace
become the only goal of our race
Feb 2016 · 1.8k
we know it, but …
we shall not leave this world alive
as we’ll discover at the end of our life

yet even though we know all that
we still cannot imagine being not
Feb 2016 · 14.7k
words & thoughts (sonnet)
we live in times when words have lost their meaning
they only serve to fill some soundbite gaps between
faces of popstars, politicians, presidential candidates,
maybe some refugees, victims of crimes and natural catastrophes

and more sensational media creations flooding our lives
with unrelenting hype unless you push the button
that brings quiet to your life   and you find time to reconsider
what it might be  exactly you desire to achieve

in the short time we are allotted in this world
you will discover it is not the senseless media blather
but some coherent thoughts turned into words becoming deeds
enacting change leading to bold decisions

think for yourself and don’t let others think for you
then speak your thoughts in words like others cannot do
Feb 2016 · 1.7k
moods of the season
perhaps it is the weather
a prolonged absence of the sun
or presence of the winter cold
or just a temporary fashion

the media as well as many webbéd sites
simply abound with dreary blather
     of lovers lost and death so cold
     the lonesomeness of every single soul
     and how s/he suffers when s/he writes
spelled out at length with no discretion

we know that people suffer from depression
or unquenchable anger at the world
and how through proper treatments
you can considerably relieve the pain

fix them in words is one of them
    but may not be enough
sometimes a mix of pills and pen
may do the trick and help you
    write yourself through your misty prison walls
    discover unlocked doors hidden in plain sight
    step out into the sunshine
        from the darkest night

you are the sun
    whose radiance illuminates the world
    lends brilliance to your life
    sheds light on everything you’ve done

and soon you’ll notice
even the weather is getting bether …
Feb 2016 · 990
what if
some say
the world is out of kilter

others predict
that things are always getting worse
and humankind is doomed
to some terrible  
    though unspecified  
fate

yet others see the second coming
of their god within their lifetime

    somehow
    ‘no future’ seems to be
    the fashion of the day

what if
     rather than just complain
     about how wrong things are
     feel sorry for ourselves
     and conjure up the end of our days
we take some action
don’t leave decisions in the hands
     of corporations and ‘professionals’ and the 1%
    of politicians who are puppets
    of lobbyists and billionaires

what if
     the 99% wake up and cast their votes
     in their own interest
rather than that of candidates
     who eloquently advocate
     simple solutions for complex problems
     showing
          without knowing it
     that they really have no clue
     what they are talking about
    
what if
     we decide to elect leaders
     who actually drink the water they are preaching
     who after they’re elected also walk their talk      
     stick to their programs
     keep their promises
     to make
           with our help
    the world a better place

what if ……
Somehow, lately poems on ths site have been a bit too defeatist & depressed  .... democracy, equality, peace are never safe and ALWAYS everybody's effort to be maintained!
Feb 2016 · 2.2k
associating
love  
dove
bird
hurt pain rain
washing laundry dryer  shrunk
too hot   summer  beach  tanned skins
bikini girls   lifeguards  bodybuilders  
Schwarzenegger
robocop criminals politicians votes
lobbyists corporations   special interests
stock exchange oil price pipelines
pollution profits   leaded water   oily shores
banking wall street   99percent
wealth CEOs distribution education defloration
exploitation union struggle macjobs
Walmart amazon   tax evasion    offshore banking
islands caimans reptiles alligators walruses
snapping turtles  manatees  albatrosses
birds
dove
love
just for fun, sort of ...
Feb 2016 · 931
resisting tools
when our mind is full of great ideas
we want to write them down
yet there are times when we  discover
that there is no connection from our brain
to all the instruments we use
to transcribe our flighty thoughts
    to give them shape on paper, screen, or in the sand

sometimes it helps to pause a bit and reconsider
what we do really want to say  
    focus and concentrate
    articulate precisely yet suggestively
our indomitable urge to formulate
    the turmoil of emotions we may harbor
    our wild ideas of revolution
    the overbearing pain of loss and separation
    grey landscapes of depression
    attractions of dramatic suicide
also the joy and pleasures of deep love
    of unexpected friendships found
        where even angels fear to tread
    the happiness of our children
    the love we recognize
        often too late
    our parents have bestowed on us

et cetera  et cetera

the catalogue of our themes
expands through our lives
so do the challenges
of how to tell the tale

it helps to aim for clarity
we have to  let our instruments of writing know
which of our turbulently swirling thoughts
should earn the privilege
to become words
    and be communicated
to people who
    before they read our verse
have no idea at all
    that we exist
Feb 2016 · 1.4k
bright day
there are those days
so sunny and so  bright
that you begin to  think this is the time
for some achievement  that excels
of which the people tell for many years
admiring stories of heroic deeds

the morning passes   then the afternoon
the sun sets casually as usual
the moon is hiding behind clouds
   like dying ember
and when night falls in earnest
    shrouds the world in darkness
you recognize it is the day  
    not you
that people might remember
I joined this site last year in March
and have found many voices since
that kindly welcomed what I wrote
with ‘likes’ and comments
even messages

thank you, my friends

I was a short-time member of some other sites
and from my past experience I have to say
that hp is the liveliest of all I’ve visited

even if there at times are posts that sound mean-spirited
and the occasional invasions of silly trolls
    make you aware that on the internet nothing is safe
    from the shenanigans of some frustrated idiots

in sum
    and in comparison with other sites
given its size and its diversity
hp is doing fairly well

to keep exchange of voices and ideas
    benevolent advice    constructive criticism
    helpful encouragement of younger members
    and sometimes simply kind remarks
alive    and spread the urge of writing poetry
    that helps us to articulate our loves and fears

to keep alive this spirit of creative art
is  our formidable work in progress
in which we all should lovingly play our part
you know you have reached advanced maturity
when the most exciting nightly event
is falling down the stairs in the dark  and
surviving with only minor cuts and bruises
Feb 2016 · 2.6k
the numbers game
our lives are fraught with numbers

so many fractions of a second faster in a race  
most wins on record   best jury votes
highest flight   deepest dive   most goals
meters of rising sea levels
millions of refugees   and more displaced
tens of thousands  honor killings
thousands of deaths with Ebola  
millions of Zika virus victims next year
billions of deficit or profit in import/export
    or the stock exchange
votes in elections    or for beauty queens

polls    tweets   virtual friends  & followers
likes on the social media    on hellopoetry

we have been taught to measure our status
our importance   and the significance of our lives
in clicks of other peoples’ digital devices

even our time has been reduced to numbers
the digital has long replaced the comprehensive
instead of the round dial that shows 12 hours
    suggesting the duration of a normal day
we have a punctual display  without the whole
the cyclical has lost against the linear

0101010101010101010101010101010101
we all look forward to our numbered future
no past  and very little present

our hands on smart phones    homes    TVs
    pushing a button makes things move
    swishing a screen displays the world

over all that we easily forget
that we ourselves have been reduced to numbers
    of customers for businesses
    of voters for the politicians
    of workers for the corporations
    of citizens for our nations
digital quantities we have become

and if we take a global view
we are part of the seven billion plus
that currently inhabit our earth


all of which do expect their individuality
be honored  and their dignity respected

numbers don’t  honor individuality
they simply count the units
items  or people  are for them the same

it’s left to us to find a way
that leaves the numbers in their place
yet guarantees us dignity
as individual members of the human race
Feb 2016 · 1.4k
the Drago tree
of legendary origin
encroached upon
throughout the centuries
by human fear
   seeking protection
   near some venerable shape

you stand

aloof

   silently balancing
   symmetrical circles
   of roots and crown

patiently oblivious of parks
and buildings made by those
who vainly walk in awe
to grasp the mystery
   in touch, in picture, meditation
   of otherness unmoved

plantlife millenial
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dracaena_draco
Jan 2016 · 710
poetics of philosophy?
the venerable Plato would have shunned
the very title of this verse

for him philosophy and poetry
were as diverse as Spartans and Athenians
who fought each other in his time

yet later thinkers of the western world
    as well as many teachings farther east and south
were much less adamant to so divide
philosophers, statesmen and politicians
from those who gave aesthetic shapes to life
made people gather in their public places
in theaters  or just with friends next door
to listen to the words that offered powerful examples
    of love and pain and happiness
    of power   treachery and greed
    losses and victories   and visions
    of our origins and what the future might be like
and that to recognize and love the beauty of our world
    leads us to understand the depths of life
    so we may choose our paths accordingly

that was the time when beauty   truth and  good were
                                      one

such words are difficult to find in our time
when three-word soundbites have replaced coherent speech  
statesmen are few and politicians many
professionals claim expertise each in their fields
talk business only with their kind

philosophers  speak to each other
    at conferences and universities
poetics are not really on their mind

poets have found themselves part of the arts
whose function in the common understanding
is to embellish everybody’s everyday
with pleasant images and notions
mending the harm done by so many hurt emotions

Plato’s revenge   it seems
has finally come home to roost
and the poetics of philosophy
is surely  desperate to receive a major boost
Jan 2016 · 554
moonlight nights
it is the night
lit by the moon  
    best if it’s full
that gives strange shadows to familiar things
when poets are supposedly inspired
to write about their pain   their love  
     often the same
important thoughts of life and death
their joys of the quotidian   and
that you catch the day
and live it like it were your last

    you never know
    just a split second
    and your life has turned into your past

benignly, though, the moonlight introduces softer thoughts
of passion and of the beloved
    distant in space but always close in mind
romantic moments lingering in afterthoughts

some times  I think  that if it were not for the distance
that always separates those who have pined
for their reunion
the world’s treasure of poetry might just be half
of what it is today

the same may well be true for all the lines
penned under tears about that unrequited love
addressed to those unwilling subjects of desire
who often  in the course of writing
turn into objects of the writers’ ire

the moonlight’s pristine shine
    in fact a mere reflection of the sun
for a few hours of the night
changes our vision
opens up doors to different worlds
    full of desire, hope, and desperation
allows us glimpses of ourselves
that daylight never shows

we feel we can speak words
under the pale light of the moon
or the dark corners of the night
that would not make much sense
under the brilliance of the sun

the quiet splendor of the moonlight’s grace
lets us experience that other space
we tend to close and keep apart
in our hasty tour of every day

that’s why
in our few calm moments
we all should listen to what they
    our poets
have to say about the night
the moon’s  strange light
and how it keeps their thoughts in flight
Jan 2016 · 879
info sharks
our daily information
defies all expectation

reporting in unnerving detail
how trains derail, tour buses fail
   to stay on roads without a rail
how terrorists attacked again
    when nobody expected them
what nonsense politicians spew
    unfortunately quite a few
how the economy keeps getting worse
    yet billionaires still fill their purse
pollution levels have ‘improved’
El Nino has the jet streams moved
millions of refugees are loose
    around the globe, few clothes, no shoes
armies and gangsters flex their muscles
cannot resist the deadly hustle

and for the icing on the cake
thousands of lives are now at stake
we learn  without too strong emotions
that a new virus was discovered
the waters of our rising oceans
     have by now covered
     a third of several island nation's land
no more idyllic beaches with white sand
    
all this mixed in
with those exciting human interest stories
about the latest dog show winners
some brilliant wunderkind beginners
major and minor worries
from  distant neighborhoods
commercials for the latest fads
and all the current healthy foods
self-advertising TV channel ads
who’s s great in sports
    and who of sorts

in short  
24/7 of much useless blather
that neither alters our lives
nor can we change its mostly dreary facts

yet we risk drowning  under this debris
    of cacophonic sound and image bites
unless we learn to
    set our marks
    clear our sights
    turn into info sharks
devouring just those bits
of almost hidden information
we can make sense of and digest
the clues to what is really going on
below the surface of our media-created ocean

it’s the commotions in the depths
    that teach us best
    give us a glimpse behind the curtains of stale words
    make us aware there’s little time for rest
Jan 2016 · 806
the Werther syndrome
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
suicide passion waste
Jan 2016 · 1.4k
who we are
when we remember
what the times have been
that made us into what
    and who
    we are today
we travel deep into our past
to hear our mother’s voice
our father’s not so friendly gripes
when we fouled up a task he gave to  us

our friends, our teachers, our loves
whose interactions shaped
who we eventually have become  
while we believe that we have always been
     so independent and  autonomous

it may be worth a moment to reflect
     upon the influences
     we are inclined to casually neglect
and recognize the fact
     that we are always part
     of that great whole
     which we so desperately try
     to disavow for individuality

only to recognize a few years later
the minimal common denominator

life is a wonderful excursion into space and time
always surprising, turning on a dime,
leaving us puzzled well unto the end
always intent to look beyond
the next bend of the river …….
Jan 2016 · 678
for the vets
for those who come home full of doubts
that they are still the ones
who bring democracy to foreign lands
  
let it be said that their specific orders
should be followed   no guilt bestowed
on any of their bunch

they have sworn oaths and their allegiance
to do their duty as defined by politics

if you want to distribute blame
hit those who from their safe positions
in comfortable chairs

send soldiers to their death
     and have no clue
what devastation this can do
For all US soldiers who do their duty as they have sworn they would and may be a bit confused by the world they encounter outside the US of A.... ;-)
Jan 2016 · 7.0k
art of poetry
the art of poetry
    like any art
produces better work
when writers are not only
erudite but also smart

the lovers' painful state
upon loss or desertion
is voiced much more impressively
with less dramatic flourish
and more of the grate
that finishes the sword
at the old blacksmith's fire
where the hot flame of our desire
    thrown into water
with a defiant hiss
turns into deadly steel
ready to **** and ******
     friend or foe or lover
in our desperate search
     for exits from the mire

or take the unexpected loss
    of victory that seemed so close
    on a wild battlefield
when suddenly the hero's gallant steed
    falls victim to a hostile archers shot
and its proud rider is reduced to shout
"A kingdom for a horse!"
rather than holding a long monologue
    about the treachery of fate

in  short
less is oft' more
and lets the readers fill the empty spaces
with their own images and graces
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