Sunday, 17 June 2018

Being human

Being human is being imperfect but that's a hard one to owe. How much better would it be to accept your imperfections and just be yourself and take life just as it comes.....a work in progress for me.

 


Being human is learning to live
life with intention, like a farmer
who is sowing seeds,
like a man who dares to be perfectly
 imperfect 
and perceives his strength,
in the mirror of mankind
perceives his faults,
in the mirror of the unrefined
 who forgives himselves
so he can pass this gift to others,
whose reflected cracks 
will be materialised in unity
Where hands hold hands
like a string of fireflies
lighting up in sparkling display
Where the ones who see
get born into wonder as they learn
 to love themselves and live life

from the inside out

Being human is learning to break
free
 of being held hostage
by our thoughts,
by our emotions,
by our expectations
by releasing one thread
of vibrant fibre at the time
as we’ve outgrown this garment of living
we step barefoot on the lush green grass
in the open field, stretching our arms
to set free this bird of control
and unrestraint we go
where the wind blows,
where the stream flows
to follow the silent path of faith
in all our brokenness
as only the crescent moon,
knows it was whole all along

Wednesday, 13 June 2018

A kiss from the count

Back in town to write for Poetry United with the prompt: Lust


photo from here

A kiss from the Count


"Drift into my dream of love" he whispers, 
gazing in the eyes of innocence,
reflecting an enchanting gentleman 
 guiding her to a space, where the sky
is cushioned with silver clouds 

above lupine lined milky roads 
mysteriously mesmerising

On this passage to paradise, he covers
her with charm and bends forwards
to seal her opal neck with his lips
Finger tips, slide softly down her silky skin
Her swelling lust......crashing
as red velvet drops merge into
a riverbed, meandering along her body

Thursday, 7 June 2018

Okarito, West Coast New Zealand


and than there is NZ My husband who had stayed behind when I went to the netherlands wanted to go out as well. We went with friends for a weekend to Okarito a coastal settlement of 30 people on the West Coast of the South Island. It has a stunning views on the mountains and a beautiful lagoon, home to lots of birds.


Sunset on the first evening, Lucky


The reflection of the mountains in the water was magical


Many people went for a walk on the beach on this mystical night


Our friend filming the powerful waves


A constant play of crashing waves


The lagoon The men went fishing from the old hut


Remains of old times make for a good picture


The trig walk was a steep track to the top but this view was worth it

The pointy peak on the right of this mountain range is Mount Cook

Tuesday, 5 June 2018

Visiting Wijchen and surroundings and Giethoorn


I went on a visit in Holland to meet up with this bunch (my brothers) my mum, friends and family
I had lots of wonderful get together's complete with great Dutch food.


The city of Nijmegen  Above you see the weigh house from 1614


The city of Den Bosch


I walked a lot with my brother around my hometown and came along the castle of Hernen,


   along grazing horses


along farms

and lush grass land.



Impressions of a visit to Giethoorn, the Venice of the North. We hired a boat and got lost on the canals. We finally returned after 3 hours :)



One of the few working mills in Holland in my hometown Wijchen
Home sweet home

Wednesday, 8 November 2017

Connecting in silence

My last poem for the year as a busy time at work and home is coming up. I will be back sometime next year :) I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a fantastic 2018. It is going to be a good one. I feel it.


Connecting in silence


They set in a safe distance on a bench in the park,
the morning sun crawling along the horizon eager to
to find them in its sight. Tentative they started talking
than fired a fountain of words onto each other, which
like drops bounced off the concrete next to them.

A whirling wind, caused a gap between their words. They
stayed in this soft place of silence, eyes meeting eyes,
hand meeting hand. Shedding the feathers of the ego,
feelings showed and showered them with pulsing passion,
connecting them to the core, in a world beyond words.


Poets United prompt Silence



Sunday, 29 October 2017

Een nieuw gerecht -- A new dish

Two friends, a Dutch and a New Zealand one have dared me in the past to write a Dutch poem. It never came to it but today I tried it for the first time and enjoyed it.
There is an english version at the end for Poets United Poetry pantry



Een nieuw gerecht   

Een pas, twee passen op het pad naar 
mijn eerste poëzie in mijn moedertaal 
na enige tijd in het engels te hebben;
vertoefd. Het voelt alsof mijn voeten in  

                    
oude geliefde schoenen glijden. Het
voelt alledaags maar ook almachtig.
Een zekere vrijheid verschijnt. Plots
pluk ik wolken en zonnestralen strelen

en zichtbaar dartel en dans ik op deze
schoenen die me verzoenen en verbinden

met de dag van gisteren. Deze taal
een deel van mij zoals mijn handen,

mijn ogen, de klank van mijn stem deel
van mij zijn. Het is alsof twee dierbaren;
mijn poëzie en mijn moedertaal, elkaar
voor het eerst treffen, net als twee    


ingrediënten voor het eerst in een recept
samen een nieuw gerecht vormen, and 
na ervan geproefd te hebben denk ik mmm
ja dat doe ik weer, dat smaakt naar meer. 

It was not as hard as I thought it would I suddenly felt much more freedom. It was only very hard to translate and it is not a proper representation. You loose beginning rhyme and the likes so I tweaked it a bit so it is not a literal translation.


A new dish

One step, two steps on the street
to my first poetry in my mother
tongue after spending some time in
english. It feels like my feet glide

in old cherished shoes. It feels
ordinary, yet so almighty. A certain
freedom appears. Suddenly 
I pluck
clouds while sun
rays embrace me

and I visibly frolic and 
foxtrot
on these shoes which connect
and conciliate me with yesterday.
This language, part of me, just like

my hands, my eyes, the sound of my
voice are part of me. It is as if two loved 
ones; my poetry and my mother tongue
meet each other for the first time, 

just like two ingredients, form a new
dish together for the first time, and after
having a taste of it I think Mmm yes
I hear my encore, this taste like more