Midsummer

The longest day is just gone

drawing behind the horizon,

took my long hair and my song,

stroked the fields and kissed the hills,

found a half-opened door

on the other side of the world.

Dinner Talk

Long fingers on the metal of a knife

Dinner before one leaves for many years

Even if you forget how a body feels

it can still take place and hold your hand at night

 

It’s not a ghost if it’s a living soul

It’s not lost if it doesn’t want to be found

It’s not there but also not gone

1st June

Past ten and the light

keeps licking winter and night,

this sumner begins.

 

Now open windows,

now open doors will betray

the secrets of walls.

 

A cacophony

of musics, of TV-sets,

of human voices.

 

We forgive so much

for the privilege of warmth

and one more summer.

Bad Dream

Bad dream like a nail into your wound

A glass of water like the right to live longer

The day breaks and the blackbird has found your tree

The soft grass and the new leaves in the trees

Now is the time to choose what to believe

No Big Deal

What about the afternoon poems?

Yes, the nights are long and silent,

words are heard easily

and spoken out with less fear

 

But what about the afternoons,

when the builder comes home,

when the train is late again

when you forgot to buy bread

and you have to walk all the way back.

 

There are not so many words

in the afternoon, are there?

We come, we go, we walk

sometimes we sit and drink a cup of coffee

 

Some smoke, watch the news,

call a friend on the phone

to tell him why they haven’t called so long.

One or two write a poem on the go.

Globally Speaking

One after the other you fall asleep

as the light moves on and wakes up

the ones at the other end of the line

We move so fast that we cannot see

A merry-go-round of dreams

Ladybugs at the Baltic Sea

Ladybugs had chosen the same beach to rest

We tiptoed on the stones trying not to step on them

They and we, all helpless in the strong north wind

They couldn’t fly away and we couldn’t stop walking

Pretending that the sun was enough was difficult

Just like in the lives one leaves behind

So sunny and colourful death can be