Poem

Your turn

Strategically clever or just a gut feeling?
What does your next move look like? Is your effort may be too high or is it, not big enough?

Surrounded by enemies. The way out is almost impossible.
An easy game. The game of others. You had
no desire to play from the beginning.

The sweat runs down your forehead. Your poker face,
much more like an open book in the game-plan of your opponents.
A risk that cannot be avoided. The biggest risk is you.

Your throat so dry, your heart beating wildly.
Is the game worth this pain?
After all, it’s just a game. Right?

You assume this turn could be your last.
After it’s done, you look at the faces of
your enemies. These masks that tell you nothing.

The game continues. How are you doing?
Are you a true winner or the loser of the day?
Will they say: „he never could lose well“,
once your life is ruined?

You swear to never play again.
No longer to bet your life,
You promise yourself to banish risks forever.

No risk, no fun.
You have the choice, you can play or
not. But if you do, play your game yourself,
be the master of your turns,
be the maker of your own game.
You better not let it happen to be the one
that gets played, instead of being a player.

It’s your turn. Move!

Loving You

Already in my dream, it was clear to me,
my eyes closed tight, I knew
the moment was over.
The time frame in which I had tried
to love you.

Years had passed in which I
looked into your eyes. For hours.
Never able to find it: Love.
Shouldn’t there be a fire?  The spark just didn’t want to ignite.

Only seconds it was,
in which I was almost certain,
I could do it: Love you.
Memories that faded.
Too colorless to stay,
too weak to leave their mark.

In my head, it raged,
there had to be a way,
but my orientation,
it was lost.
Lost like the love for you I wanted to have.

Was it gone forever?
For nights, I saw the shadows dancing.
On the ceiling over my bed,
and in my heart.
Did it still beat?

My hand went over the smooth surface,
Wiped away the dust that covered it.
I stared at you: My reflection.
The reflection so polluted,
Tears invisible.

Turned away. The mirror is hidden.
Love is gone.
Even though, I tell myself…

„someday“.

Come on board

It was the day she met him that her conviction swayed like a fishing boat that should not have been sailing anymore.
There he stood, with his self-assured smile and those sparkling eyes.
Their reflection that they were throwing back was different from what they were accustomed to. He was dominant, that fellow, and before any other man who had encountered her with such behavior, she had said what she thought of it: nothing at all.

She was not a woman who liked to be led. She herself was a leader. Born to be one, encouraged and educated. Her word had always been the first and the last. Much more important: decisive. To some people she seemed arrogant and the older she became, the less disturbed she was by that fact.

When he grabbed her hand and did not let go, she felt different. Could it be his strength, the way he spoke, all he did, that she intimidated? You!
No. She was impressed. Not in a way that you already knew. This feeling sat deeper inside her. As if it had slumbered, only to be brought to life by his presence.
Like a book, he read her, not be afraid to read it from his. As often as she liked. Every chapter, even those which frightened her, and send cold shivers down her spine.

She did not feel like a new person, much more like the one she had always been.
Her own strength doubled, she felt bigger than ever before.
Everything about her, which she did not appreciate, was reversed, relativized by his love.
Admiration she knew. It had been brought up by men whose fighting spirit was so remarkable that it was no different from paying tribute to them all their lives.
Had these sails been in rough sea, she now recognized:
Here in front of her stood her captain.

As he grabbed her hand, a storm raged. Before them lay the sea, wild and impetuous.
Times without strong waves were not in sight and yet they knew their goal:
„Land in sight!“
His arms held her tightly as she closed her eyes.
For an infinite moment she stood there and knew there would be countless coming.
It was this day when a leader found her leader.

„Welcome on board, my love,“ he said, and even in the darkness of the sea, she could see.

 

Komm‘ an Bord

Es war an dem Tag, als sie ihn traf, als ihre Überzeugung schwankte wie ein Fischerboot, das schon lange nicht mehr zur See hätte fahren sollen.
Dort stand er, mit seinem selbstsicheren Lächeln und seinen funkelnden Augen.
Ihr Spiegelbild, das sie zurückwarfen, war ein anderes, als sie es gewohnt war.
Dominant war er, dieser Kerl, und jedem anderen Menschen zuvor, der ihr mit solch einer Art begegnet war, hatte sie gesagt, was sie davon hielt: Überhaupt nichts.

Sie war keine Frau die sich gerne führen ließ. Sie selbst war ein Anführer. Geboren, einer zu sein, dazu ermutigt und erzogen. Ihr Wort war stets das erste und das letzte gewesen. Viel wichtiger: Das maßgebliche. Auf manche ihrer Mitmenschen wirkte sie arrogant, und je älter sie wurde, desto weniger störte es sie. Sollten die anderen doch denken, was sie wollten. Schließlich war es ihre Meinung über die Reflexion ihrer selbst, das, was sie ausmachte, die zählte.

Als er ihre Hand ergriff und nicht mehr losließ, fühlte sie sich anders. Könnte es seine Stärke sein, die Art wie er sprach, alles was er tat, das sie einschüchterte? Sie!
Nein. Sie war beeindruckt. Nicht auf eine Art, die ihr bereits bekannt war. Dieses Gefühl saß tiefer in ihr drin. Als hätte es geschlummert, nur um durch seine Anwesenheit zum Leben erweckt zu werden.
Wie ein Buch las er sie, nicht befangen, ihr aus seinem vorzulesen. So oft sie wollte. Jedes Kapitel, auch jene, die sie erschreckten, ihr kalte Schauer über den Rücken jagten.

Sie fühlte sich nicht wie ein neuer Mensch, viel mehr wie jener, der sie immer gewesen war. Ihre eigene Stärke verdoppelt, fühlte sie sich größer als jemals zuvor.
Alles an ihr selbst, was sie nicht schätzte, wurde umgekehrt, durch seine Liebe relativiert.
Bewunderung kannte sie. War sie von Männern erzogen worden, deren Kampfgeist so beachtlich war, dass sie nicht anders konnte, als ihnen ihr Leben lang Tribut zu zollen.
Waren diese Ihre Segel in rauer See gewesen, erkannte sie jetzt:
Hier vor ihr stand ihr Kapitän.

Als er ihre Hand fester griff, tobte ein Sturm. Vor ihnen lag das Meer, wild und ungestüm. Zeiten ohne starken Wellengang waren nicht in Sicht und dennoch kannten sie ihr Ziel:
„Land in Sicht!“
Seine Arme hielten sie fest umschlungen, als sie die Augen schloss.
Für einen unendlichen Moment stand sie so da und wusste, es würden noch unzählige kommen.
Es war dieser Tag, als ein Anführer seinen Anführer fand.

„Willkommen an Board, Liebste“, sagte er und selbst in der Dunkelheit der See, konnte sie sehen.

How many?

How many nights she spent,
in wait for the infinite night.
The most beautiful of all, the „now and forever“.

How many tears she cried,
without ever having those for true love,
until now, the ones that burn her skin.

How many dreams she dreamt,
adventure and cheering experienced all together,
until she found the one dream, her “every night”.

How many moments she was happy,
has laughed out loud,
without knowing what happiness
truly is. Until now.

How many times she pleaded,
on her knees, for the one,
coming to her life, until now.
Until he came.

How many years, months, days, hours
and minutes are still on her route,
before eternity is here.
How many?

Wait

Stop waiting for the special moment,
the magic, the enlightenment.

Stop waiting for the big, true love,
good things are often closer than you may think.

Stop waiting for perfection,
it’s nothing more than a fairy tale.

Stop waiting for luck and happiness,
be happy, right here, right now.

Stop waiting for the sparkling idea,
go ahead, find some inspiration.

Stop waiting for the phone to ring,
take it, dial, take action.

Stop waiting for tomorrow, today,
here and now is the day.

Stop waiting, you may miss something.
Stop waiting, time is running out.
Stop waiting, for everything to fall into place.
Live now!

While these suggestions are not wrong,
they are not completely right either:

The one who’s believing in magic is ready to wait for it.
True, big and never-ending love, is sometimes not easy to find.Perfection, not to wait but to strive for.
Luck and happiness right here and now, but not as change for the price of the real thing.
Found inspiration could be the route to the great idea.
The call you are waiting for, maybe it needs a bit more time.
Today is one of your days, but tomorrow could be the “day of days”.

Wait.
The one who’s able to wait, because he wants to, is unbreakable.

Nothing – part 3

Darkness turned into light.
My limbs, still hurting,
but full of grace, I took the misery.

Voices have been heard,
just like music, but one was special.
Beautiful, soft and close.

A hand, on mine,
I recognized this feeling.
This was the hand that held me for so long.

The storm was over,
the torturing nothing through the ages,
towards a better era.

Love that hit me,
covering all the pain.
Love, that I gave, erasing all my misery.

Still, blurred my sight,
little by little coming back to me,
dripping like soft rain.

The eyes I looked into,
the face I saw right in front of me,
I felt as I knew it, saw it before,
as I’ve lived this moment already.

Tears were running down the face,
just as it was back then,
exactly like this. Being robbed of this memory all my life,
I knew for sure, I’ve lived it before.

“My child”, she said.
“Mama”, I wanted to say, but my voice wasn’t ready.
“My darling, I knew you’d make it through this”,
“Mama, I love you”, my lips shaped voiceless.

A new beginning.
Not a new life, but mine.
Yet, it starts over again, weak and small.
The scene almost alike, full of hope.

The light, stronger than darkness.
Saved from an ocean of nothing.
It was hope that triumphed,
at last, it didn’t die.

Been lucky?

As multi functional as the definition of „luck “, as big the range of ways to find it.
Maybe it’s waiting for you, at the end of the way. Watch out. Look around.
Possibly, it’s right around the corner. Just in that place, where you wouldn’t have expected it to be.
Watch out!

There’s so much you can do, to find luck. Don’t just follow the route, go other ways, too. Range the woods wade through waters and high grass. Be ready, to find you luck. What is it you are looking for? Are you aware of what you are searching? Don’t give up.

Are you witnessing when others are happy? Is it the same thing, you are looking for?
They’re smiling, having a good time. It seems whatever they were looking for, they got it.
Do you ask yourself, why you’re still in search of it?
Have you just not been lucky?

Maybe you’ve had luck in your hands, but dropped it?
Just left it there, near the path. Halfway to your big dream.
I wish you could keep that little piece of luck.
Not just obsessively pursuing the ultimate.
That you can hold this small piece of luck in your hands, unforgotten your big goal,
but able to reward this little breeze of luck.
Don’t just get lucky, get ready to feel fortunate, too.

The watch

„Don’t turn around“, you say to me. Pulling me closer to you.
“Where should I look, but at you?“, I ask.
I don’t say more about what I’m thinking, you know, we both know.

Time is speeding, the time in which it’s just us two. Nobody else.  The cursor of this watch is beside your eyes, all I see.
Cruelly, it’s moving forward, there’s no sound.

Laying my head on your shoulder,
I breathe in all your heat.
Fighting against the urge, to look at the cursor. Again.
As brutal as it’s moving, intensive pain in my chest.
My throat is closing up, even tighter.
I wonder how I’m still able to sit up but
I know, it’s you who’s holding me up.  Guilt is rising inside of me, shouldn’t it be me,
who’s holding you?

Our time is running, too fast it’s running from us.
All towards the moment, when they will come,
to give us a few minutes. Minutes!
My hands are shaking, I don’t know how to control myself, up from here.
I want to scream, but remain silent.
“I love you”, is all I have to say.
I want to cry, but I know that will hurt you more.
“I love you”, tears are running down my cheeks.
Unable to stop them.

You hold me up so I can stand.
Without you, I cannot stand straight.
But I must.
Until our time stands still.
I can.
Until this watch doesn’t tick any longer, silently.
I want.
I want our eternity.

Until this damn clock is shot down for all time.

The art of art

Art is, what you are able to see in it.
It can be colorful, shining or unclear.
Art is able to do it all, but well,
there’s nothing like a “must”.

Art is emotion.
It’s feeling and memory.
Carrying you far away or back home.

Art is effecting.
It’s shaking you when you truly see it.
That’s what it does, for those who recognize and
respect.

Art is singing.
A song that you know very well,
or a new one, which sound shows you a new world.

Art is dancing.
On your mind, within your soul and your heart. Swinging to the beat, heartbeat like.

Art is different.
For some people it’s a waste,
for others, it means the world.

Art is free.
Doing whatever it wants, not what others may dictate.  Knows no Borders, never did.
—————

 

Art is a daughter of freedom – Friedrich Schiller