Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts

Envy

Everyone is more,
runs forward
from goal to goal.

Incandescent
out of me
away



Where is mine,
where am I,
what's this anyway.

Incandescent
out of me
away



A tree, a lake,
climbing water
feels awake.
Diving through the sun.

Incandescent
out of me
away



Blue, red, yellow -
pink, fluffy lights
swirl through thoughts
and cloud my sight.

Incandescent
out of me
away




You got him,
he got her,
get to sin with sensibility.

Incandescent
out of me
away

Swimming free,
going everywhere I wanna be,
if this envy didn't follow me.

Out of me!

A great week full of exciting work and relaxation ends in an exhausting marathon of events, feelings and unusual experiences. This poem should express a bit of that.

From yellow leaves to the rooted trunk,
she scuttles down
a curvacious street
in a city of neon signs.

No time to stop,
to look at the letters,
and pictures and photographs.

With haste towards the finish line,
she doesn't waste a breath
nor does she feel the pain
of exhaustion.

It's a matter of life and death.

When she gets lifted up,
there's nothing else to ponder.

A second before the final step,
he earned that spicy lunch.


This poem was inspired by Chandra, an x-ray space telescope, and was published online by NASA, US. For the challenge, I'd like to reuse it. I hope you enjoy it.

Cas A

Outside,
strangely bright,
outside where there’s no light:
flaming spots whisk an internal fight.

¡Vaya CasA!

When matter
matters more,
out there, where
it’s their fuel and ore,

¡Vaya CasA!

then
every core
is an assembly fort
of a mysterious world.

¡Ver la CasA

dank Röntgens Strahlen,
which collide with
la sphère d’une glace!

¡Vaya CasA!

A gaseous orb,
a giant house -
the factory’s
on hold.

¡Vaya CasA!

It melts,
reforms,
consumes the storm
and bursts.

La CasA
vanished
-cries unheard-,
renewed, enriched the universe.

Translation:
Vaya Casa – what a house.
Ver la Casa – See the house
Dank Röntgens Strahlen – thanks to the rays of (Mr.) Röntgen
La sphère d’une glace – the field of a mirror
La Casa – the house/Cassiopeia A

So this is my first blogfest to celebrate the first magical number: the 50th follower.
I went to a 60x60 concert this week, which gave me the idea of this challenge. 60 composers each had 60 seconds to bring give a statement through music. Interesting, but hard on the ears and strenuous on the mind. All the acoustic and sonic beats. The presenter said this has traveled from music to video to drama and others.
So why don't we writers do it, too.

First, I thought we could each write 60 words in 60 seconds. Tried it, never had more than 47, though. So this is the new blogfest challenge:

To take part, you have to:
1. be a follower. (obvious one)
2. write a piece of 60 words that contains art in any form.

Now:
3. Check for I'm, don't, It's - they count as two words.
4. post it on your blog or comment it here (don't forget link to post)
5. When: Sunday 6th - Wednesday 16th of March
6. spread the word if you can (extra points)
The winner of the CSN voucher will be announced on the 20th.

If we can get 60 pieces together, I will post the best ones as our own 60x60 collection.
If anyone manages to write decent 60 words in 60 seconds, this will be honoured of course.

And now to the prize:
CSN Stores has amazing online stores, where you can find everything from great cookware to beautiful bedroom furniture to chic lighting pieces! So the winner gets a $20 (£25 or 15€) voucher.
For UK, Germany, USA and Canada.

Have a look at these to decide if you like something: www.CSNStores.co.uk  www.csnstores.com
Nice arty book shelf from CSNstores
So here is my little piece. It's a poem that came out of the second round I tried to write for 60 seconds.

Why people hide art, I don’t know

The secret parts of people’s work
is often reined by an unseen wart
that shrouds all meaning.

I love art, don’t get me wrong,
it’s just so hard to hear the song
in every distinct form.

I vote to consolidate the different parts
in firing warts and rupturing the walls.

Now it's your time, have fun.

Finally, on this Special Sunday post, I present to you the amazing Mozzarella poem.

This week truly turns out to be a LOL-week (laughing-out-loud-week) on my blog. The pure purpose of this poem is to be fun. An Ode turns the attention to the small things in life that we rarely appreciate. For two years now, I have dedicated most of my daily nutrition intake to Mozzarella; life just tastes, feels and works better with the power-filled protein bomb. So it was time to honour its powers in a poem.


www.labellamozzarella.com

The Ode

Mozzarella, o Bella,
let your soft skin swim.

Let your resilient flesh buff.
Let the moist bubble run
out,

so that I can spot through the silvery glance
how beautiful you are.

I press the knife down
and your lump bends over
and tears through.

You
are
extendable
fun,
when you blister on my Pizza.

Please circle in endless tubes around my fork
before you lift to my mouth.

Squishy and
tattered.

I feel the gratitude
that you dedicate to me.

Mozzarella, oh Bella.
O beautiful you.

What would qualify for an Ode in your life? 

Cas A

Outside,
strangely bright,
outside where there’s no light:
flaming spots whisk an internal fight.

¡Vaya CasA!

When matter
matters more,
out there, where
it’s their fuel and ore,

¡Vaya CasA!

then
every core
is an assembly fort
of a mysterious world.
 

Man grüßt, man grinst,
man winkt, man spricht,
und dann
lügt sie mich an.

Lass sie rangeln,
mich stört‘s nicht.
Ach deine Laune
wundert mich.

Gestern, wie schön,
da ging alles doch,
heute gibt‘s Streit,
wer erinnert sich noch?

Einigkeit vergeht,
steigt einsam auf,
verfliegt in Dunst und Wolkenstaub,
verweht in alle Länder.
...


Watching two White Dogs

There he flits through oiled daylight,
across black hills, deep down raw paths.
He roams his veil of linen cloth,
then stops, surveys to sniff
her out.

His eyes dropped - striving down towards
where once his purple collared wife
had rested, waiting foolishly,
in hope their paint will bleed.

Sunset haunts her traveller,
his piercing rips exert themselves
and make his paws proceed.

His hanging ears are not deceived!
The husband strands,
I see him grieve.
They hang apart:
express their calm
belief.
...

It makes me sick to sit and look upon the shit this planet cooks, the mean, destructive habit, and corruptness human beings bring.

It makes me sick to hear kids crying, caused by senseless, ceaseless hunger, amidst a civilized new century,

It makes me sick to hear the sorrows, solo thousands, loudly shout outside, but without help.

It makes me sick to see the people dying; uncontrolled hysteria of fellow humans banish souls within the ticking of a clock.

It makes me sick to see big-headed businessmen who care about less else than money they can use to waste their lives unnecessarily.

Invaders of Mind
Can’t keep mine shut.
Snakes visit nightly - but,
though far behind,
intrude, unkind,
and perforate my head.
Can one escape this thread?
Make noxious heartstrings end?

Anguish, old,
it will not cease…
Comes knocking endlessly.
But, behold,
afield is peace:
Sown seeds there thrive for me!

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