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  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    The velvet blanket outside my window
    Covering the surface of the grounds,
    I wish you all good night, we´ll meet again tomorrow,
    Embroidering the planet, writing names on the stars.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    hope you don't mind me putting in my version of Adlestrop here....which I wrote a couple of years ago.....after reading Austerlitz.......it's really I remember Austerlitz.....if anyone has read the book, they'll know what the poem means.....(sorry Exhale)....

    Yes. I remember Adlestrop -
    The name, because one afternoon....
    I saw him in St Denis
    where the gloom had stopped its fasting

    Where late one day while walking
    he just appeared
    and barges basking in the Paris
    sun were geared for motionless
    for stranded sunlit standing

    and it seemed that he was
    walking on the air like Jesus
    so hazy and so deceptive
    were my senses all calmed and slowed

    then he said....we've hardly seen each other
    since the end of June
    and much as I am busy
    and disposed, I feel we're out of tune

    we talked....we picked up all the threads
    and I can't begin to tell you where
    our journey led....
    but through the wolds of oxfordshire
    and right through all his life

    we went in St Denis that day
    and if I bore you now with
    tales of Adlestrop
    or saddle you with him
    it's only for the sake of
    life or maybe just a whim
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Thank you for this poem, ISN

    and no, I haven´t read this book either but I might
    if you convince me of it´s quality :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    yeah Exhale....I recommend it....a bad translation into English from German.....it's by S G Sebald.....Austerlitz.....very poignant.....a better book is The Reader......or the Dog King.....incredible translation......brilliant book.....author lives in Ireland - can't remember name....(all German themes)
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    cool, thanks

    might choose them books as the topic for my finals in German.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    oh, that's so cool.....read The Dog King by Christoph Ransmeyer....I think.....also The Reader is special because it's a love story between a boy and a woman......the woman was a Nazi.....but the link between them is reading.....without spoiling it for you.....but The Dog King is special......remember the day I picked it off the library shelf in Westminster Library in Victoria.....also got The Idiot from that library.....
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    A blood red portrait I see in your face,
    Screaming for a breath, eyes gazing through the lace.
    Your body seized with a painful muscle cramp
    Shaping a queer posture, resembling a tramp.
    I know that I must write,
    Unless the thought coagulates and becomes a stone.
    A multitude of such is already resting on my mind,
    Even heavier the burden resides in my heart.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Life!
    Such beautiful a dance of roses and sunrays,
    Holding hands,
    Swinging blooms from side to side in rhythm,
    As a sign of approving of this vital being,
    Oh, let me out!
    A little bee
    Caught in a fly-trap on the window;
    Captured while an excursion of the strange, wide meadow:
    To see,
    To learn,
    To make friends with species still unknown to her,
    Invite herself to places which homes are being called,
    Listening to different speeches - and while she does that
    Steal hints,
    Observe the moves,
    Ask thousand questions, of course she dares!
    But now she can´t,
    She is paralyzed.
    Her blood is frozen.
    This blood hasn´t circled round for more than only 14 times
    And already she would pray to die.
    Her wings are broken.
    Completely soaking wet
    As she fell into a pool of Sekt.
    She cannot see the rapist, although she´s laid face up,
    Her eyes are colour-blind.
    No blue,
    No yellow,
    No scarlet she no more defines.
    She no longer can be recognized
    As happiness and love personified;
    She has turned into an ugly fly,
    A malicious, loathsome beast that we all despise.
    Alas! She´s still alive…
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Why is it so quiet here tonight?
    Not a single word to write, no fight?

    :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Low the sky on earth has fallen,
    And the sun wasn´t left behind,
    Every cloud on soil is crawling,
    A bough to grab nowhere to find.
    Drowning slowly in the mud of broken dreams,
    You have painted them but now you want to flee,
    You´ve caused the silence on my lips
    I can´t believe you´re really saying this.
    After I am calm and willing to participate again,
    I´ll put up the mask of the best smile I´ve ever had,
    You will feel that this smile is not the same,
    I´ll quote my poetry and words will be my last…
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    It sounds as if the raindrops are composing songs,
    So gently knocking in the rhythm on the walls,
    The streets, and also leaves of trees
    That reach the windows on the third floor.
    I lean closer to the flowers resting in the pots.
    As they are being touched by drops I hear different sounds
    Connected all together to a melody of motley tones,
    So quiet now my soul is adding vocals.
    If you listen, you might recognise the lullaby
    The nature has created for mankind,
    This not being easy lyrics to decipher,
    I blame the rapid pace and our life style.
    Still hoping everybody that will read my words
    Will understand and sing along,
    Don´t be afraid, I´ll show the way;
    Life is a journey - as they say.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I take a deep breath, I count to 9…
    Time has pushed my shoulders to the ground.
    In slow motion the cord of scenes uncoils,
    In the mirror only black and swollen wrinkles I behold.
    With my face on frozen tiles
    And tired eyes of looking for reflections,
    I follow slender, slow red stream
    My veins are all contracted, help! I cannot scream…
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I´m travelling through images of her,
    Wondering: how is she? Do memories of me sometimes occur
    And whom do they belong to?
    She´s dancing in the circles all around my axis,
    Wearing different panoramas and those massive
    Hills that grow behind her back on the horizon,
    Despite too many rumours her Majesty´s remaining silent.
    On my knees, I bend down and kiss her feet
    She is the most beautiful lady I have ever seen,
    And missing thee will cost me dear…
    Only a blue line lies between us,
    Your coast so close, I would only reach out
    And touch the surface of your face,
    Drinking tears, being witness of your grace.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • FinsburyParkCarrots
    FinsburyParkCarrots Seattle, WA Posts: 12,223
    Originally posted by exhale
    I´m travelling through images of her,
    Wondering: how is she? Do memories of me sometimes occur
    And whom do they belong to?
    She´s dancing in the circles all around my axis,
    Wearing different panoramas and those massive
    Hills that grow behind her back on the horizon,
    Despite too many rumours her Majesty´s remaining silent.
    On my knees, I bend down and kiss her feet
    She is the most beautiful lady I have ever seen,
    And missing thee will cost me dear…
    Only a blue line lies between us,
    Your coast so close, I would only reach out
    And touch the surface of your face,
    Drinking tears, being witness of your grace.

    Your poems become more and more beautiful.

    :)
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    My flowers have finally found a peaceful garden where they
    can grow without the fear of being attacked by malicious predators ;)

    thank you prof. Fins

    :)
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    that's lovely
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I wish nature had endowed me with wings of hummingbird,
    Perhaps you could´ve heard but I know you wouldn´t see me
    Shooting from garden to garden looking for the sweetest bloom,
    Playing saddest tunes when turning back,
    Hey, we will get there soon!
    I cannot curse the writer, who wrote for me my story,
    Reshaping me throughout the past, adding voice so slowly.
    My name I cannot change
    Because he poured the turbid water on my shoulders,
    But sometimes when I want to write,
    I still have to flee from hunters.
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • ISN
    ISN Posts: 1,700
    so dilligent and different and divine
    ....they're asking me to prove why I should be allowed to stay with my baby in Australia, because I'm mentally ill......and they think I should leave......
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    I only write out of my conscious mind,

    without contemplating much on the structure and lines.

    thank you for reading
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.
  • exhale
    exhale Posts: 185
    Shhhhhhhhhh!
    Don´t touch her while she is still asleep,
    She is so peaceful, she hardly breathes!
    Let her meet with all her ghosts,
    It is only silence that all her fears exhausts.
    I wish I had the power and call for them all,
    To escort her with words and thoughts till dawn,
    I know, she loves each and every one so strong,
    Sometimes she would talk about them
    And HUSH! when notice she is not alone.
    It is a pity they don´t see her thoughts,
    They can´t relate with feelings which they cause;
    Her intentions noting but a harmless plea
    To walk behind them, find shelter in this perilous sea.
    If she would hear my onefold speech,
    She would not at all be pleased;
    I anticipate that very soon she will pull back
    In her excuse declare that it is only energy she lacks.
    She will remain a puzzling riddle
    To which solution even she herself might never know,
    Come on, it is time for us to go,
    This is her dream now and she wants to be alone.
    Shhhhhhhhhhh!
    Write. Wind each new thought upon the stream;
    and in its contradiction of response,
    Or seeming stagnance, see that rippled gleam
    That might suggest true movement. If you sense
    a hidden wave in what seems blanket still,
    Write more, wind each desire, and you'll see
    The willows nod and rustle, and you will
    hear the rushing babble of the free
    gush of water, brimming, charged with light
    That is your reader's understanding heart.

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