Carl JohnsonInstead of a #SundaySong, I guess I did a #SundayPoem – I did a poem about my life 35 years ago as a legislative assistant. Was I ever that young? Just spoken word (boy, do I prefer my singing voice), electric slide ukulele, and #KalaUBass.
YouTube
haleyTrying something new. Sunday #poetry #prompt: share a piece (yours, or work you admire) about physical pain. Use the hashtag #SundayPoem. I'll repost them! Make sure to name the book or journal the #poem was published in, and tag them if they're here on Mastodon.
IrisHeute von Alfred Lord Tennyson:
Flower in the Crannied Wall
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower—but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
Feder und Stein
Sagt die Feder zum Stein:
Wie schwer du es hast,
so viel schwerer als ich.
Der Stein drauf zur Feder:
Zu bleiben, meine Liebe,
ist ein Leichtes für mich.
Some funny ones today. (Not only) for children. It’s all about playing with the language. Enjoy!
Walking on the Bridge of Your Nose | Kids' Poems and Stories with Michael Rosen
Diesmal eins von Mascha Kaléko 🌹
Mein schönstes Gedicht
Mein schönstes Gedicht?
Ich schrieb es nicht.
Aus tiefsten Tiefen stieg es.
Ich schwieg es.
Jan ThieLast post of the day.
The island in the poem is a mix of Java and Bali. I spent most of my time in Indonesia on Java but the route the procession of pilgrims takes is on Bali.
The poem has a short story twin; I'll post that next week on #SundayStory.
Goodnight everyone.
(No photo description, since it's the full text of the poem. If anyone wants to get the poem by mail, I'll send it to them.)
Again, if you like the thing, please boost/reblog, so others may see it.
Winter Insomnia
You were turned inside out
a bleeding desire
for thousands of breaths
Night brought redemption
the opaque veil
You shared it with an animal
sleepless like you
Companions for a while
whose tracks in the snow
carried twin DNA
(written in January 2013 after reading Raymond Carver‘s poem 'Winter Insomnia')
So still sein
Kannst du das:
So still sein, dass die Zeit
dich übersieht
und zurücklässt an dem Ort,
den du nicht verlassen willst
So still sein, dass der Ort
bleibt, wie er war
als du ihn betreten hast
und dein Staunen blutjung war
So still sein, dass du selbst
bleibst, wie du warst
im Moment deiner Ankunft,
weil alles um dich her -
innehält
- bis du hörbar Atem schöpfst
als Signal für das zu Erinnernde,
sich weiterzudrehen
in dein Erinnern.