Au Café Maure Sitzen da und rauchen, schlürfen heißen starken Kaffee, süß. Sitting, smoking, sipping hot strong coffee, sweet. SonntagNachmittagTeich / SundayAfternoonPond How come I always associate willow with widow? Wir trinken Wein unter den Weiden; träges Wasser, still; doch der Tanz der Insekten kreiert die Choreographie des Libellenflugs. Wine under the willow trees;… Timothy McNeal weiterlesen
Schlagwort: poems
Brad Evans
a good woman she was a good woman, knew her place in the home. she was a kind woman, kind to everybody: her brother, mother, father. she cooked them all a roast dinner ev’ry Sunday … I ? I don’t remember what I did at 11. I have no reason to complain but… Brad Evans weiterlesen
Gabriele Pötscher
Twelve out of My Things Wait in Autumn I sit and wait, the hours an endless chain, The minutes sluggish and black against the day, Like crows in wintry trees, their feathers splayed against the rain, Stopped in flight, now still as rocks, their passage stayed. The wait is long, and I a battered brittle… Gabriele Pötscher weiterlesen
Les Wicks
A Few Poems WHISPERED A man at the window is watching quietly, thinks he’s hidden in the dark. But I, too, am watching him. And I have learnt that men’s eyes will pulse as naturally as the sun. Sometimes fierce & occasionally upsetting. Like good handymen we sand, then lacquer coat after coat of civilised… Les Wicks weiterlesen
Philipp Arno Vajda
Der Mond ist ein Trick der Dunkelheit / The moon is a trick of the darkhood 7 Gedichte / 7 poems Speechless Gravity Bothered by the sun still shining got a letter from my dear: “You know, death is just another creature, howling if he’s near!” I have no answers, nothing happens to me, my… Philipp Arno Vajda weiterlesen
Annika Senger
meine psyche kotzt meine psyche kotzt autoabgase in der stehenden mittagsschwüle imitieren dein tuntensüßes parfum atome der erinnerung fügen sich zu molekülen zerfallen auf dem heißen asphalt gedanken wachsen wie neurotische schatten meines abgetragenen selbst verankert in der betonwüste ich analysiere mein mosaik und sehe amor verbluten unter den rädern der straßenbahn Von Schnecken… Annika Senger weiterlesen
Joy Reid
Four Poems Bluebottle Bubblegum sea stinger with your remove via vinegar bite deflated on sand you resemble a discarded condom the tantalise your tastebuds – variety is the spice of – blueberry? Pass. Miniature sea-farer with the bluster of a Spanish galleon the buoyancy of a Mary Rose. Well now seems you’ve foundered did piracy… Joy Reid weiterlesen
Andrea Sailer
Augenblicke / Moments AUGENBLICKE Es sind Augenblicke, immer nur Augenblicke Die alles entscheiden, alles bedeuten, alles verändern Oder jede Veränderung unmöglich machen Sekundenbruchteile, in denen alles geschieht Alles oder nichts, das macht keinen Unterschied Es sind Augenblicke, die am Ende ein ganzes Leben ausmachen Auf die man zulebte, oder denen man zu entkommen sucht Immer… Andrea Sailer weiterlesen
Louis Armand
Unsentimental SANTÉ MENTALE (for Kevin Hart) & looked back, at the mute open seamouth–(agape, with the ex- pression of a tired cabaret singer, denuded by an absence of applause)–the shorelights re- cede beyond an unheard-of precipice: the mast rigid, the sail folds in upon the scene THE SEA WALL AT X unaccustomed to these more… Louis Armand weiterlesen
Mario Licón
Bruma-Bloon’s Diary Work-in-Progress For Karin Hauser The night before there are things, sometimes hard to remember like that place I was trying to go last night. The fog on the other side of the lake is as dense as the cloud that was blackening my head last night. Tonight A soft rumour of breeze lurks… Mario Licón weiterlesen