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Showing posts from September, 2019

Quotation from the facade of the Brooklyn Public Library

"Here are enshrined the longing of great hearts and noble things that tower above the tide, the magic word that winged wonder starts, the garnered wisdom that has never died."

Inscription on the facade of the Brooklyn Public Library


the long gray days have come
as I walk under the dense clouds
through these woods I once loved
an atmosphere of loss weighs me down
like a rock
even the moss has lost it's color
the silence
sounds like screaming
there's not even a rustling of leaves
death shall live here soon

Love & honor

a giggle, young and innocent still
will grow into a laugh
and a single tear shall start a stream of grief

the past, the years gone by
forever now
I know
I've lived long enough

we've grown
we've gained
we've lost

love & honor
to all our ghosts

Quotation from Ernest Hemmingway

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”

― Ernest Hemingway

runaway butterflies
escaped kisses

Goddess of Flowers

wait for me between the roses
the palest pink ones
with dewdrops still on their petals
oh, my sweet one
like a bee I'll find you
I'll home in on your scent
drink the dew from your skin
and take in your nectar
you, Goddess of Flowers
my excitement
and my serenity
wait for me


en ik dacht dat grote mensen niet meer bang waren voor spoken
maar ik dacht het verkeerd

voor hen geen witte lakens
of enge wezens onder het bed
ze zien spoken die niet meer verdwijnen
door het aandoen van het licht

want het zijn volwassen spoken
ze hebben een gezicht

the little silly things
like did she like sprinkles on ice cream
or dream of dancing barefoot in the rain
questions never asked
left unanswered

so much clearer
her mind needs to be
words lost in a fog
poetess wandering pathless
her soul in search
for the door to her heart

I wonder

these waking nights - walking slowly between dreams and death - I wonder; when my brittle bones stop breaking and my heart will be free from my body - will it still beat?

am I only made this blood - this dying body?

then bury me beneath a Maple
and sometimes I'll still bleed

'O, als ik dood zal, dood zal zijn - J.H. Leopold

'O, als ik dood, dood zal zijn
kom dan en fluister, fluister iets liefs,
mijn bleke ogen zal ik opslaan
en ik zal niet verwonderd zijn.
En ik zal niet verwonderd zijn;
in deze liefde zal de dood
alleen een slapen, slapen gerust
een wachten op u, een wachten zijn.'
J.H. Leopold
(1865 - 1925)
- uit de bundel Versen van 1912

n.b. mocht er copyright berusten op dit gedicht en het verwijderd dient te worden dan kunt u een bericht achterlaten zodat ik de post kan verwijderen. Ik heb het online nagezocht en kon geen uitsluitsel vinden betreffende copright op dit specifieke gedicht.

My angel

how beautiful you were, almost ethereal
shimmering as if never in focus
you looked like a free falling angel
down to earth - into my arms

I held you close to my heart
touched your invisible wings
tasted your lips
caressed your fair skin

I loved to the moon & back

I still do ✨


in the air - faded memories calling
I feel them breathing against my skin
my sin exposed

painted upon a weathered canvas - us
who we were the night before
hear the larks singing my love

here lies innocence
     no more


if hell would freeze over

I'd go ice-skating
on the lake of lost souls

I'd go ski-jumping
over the pit of fire

I'd make a snowman
with a scarf and a hat

I'd make hell
a pleasant place to be

~ that

clattering of hooves
a sound from a ghostly past
abandoned carriage

Aurora Borealis

in the dark of night
eerie light adorns the sky
magical display

Waking up

on cold ground she lay
downy feathers fell from the sky
covered in wishes she slept
waking up an angel
ready to fly

how morbid you speak of life
the wealthy towering over the poor
no apprehension or aversion
in pretending to be gods

what concrete walls have you built within your heart
what prison door to shut out the light

Painting perfection

anticipation of exhilaration
madness flows through vibrant veins
stilled on canvas - life
in all its gory glory
not all is light that shines bright

come, my little bird
drink the blood that is me
savor me
I am the perfect imperfection