Bed of Feathers

Featured

June

I don’t like to hear the birds
Sing in May
It reminds me of the gone
My lonely graveyard
Easily forgotten
Fair bones to stare at
Faces, white
Laughs, they’re only teeth
I welcome them in June
Warm nights and mysterious bringings.
I like to hear the birds
Sing in Autumn
In the last light, when the sun turns
That singular lonely moment
I like to hear
Their morning song
Peaceful and reminding
April, the coldest month to come
The birds start to sing
A chill and freshly wind
I’ll cling onto my curtains
For that awful light
When the birds are silent
We know that God was visiting
With his geometric rhymes
Not losing his perfection
With his endless making white.

Featured

The Love Day

De tijd die tikt
De ondraaglijke tijd
Als een dikke vacht om me heen
De hitte op een Februari dag
van de eerste zonnedag
Ik sluit mijn ogen
en adem
Ik probeer een koude zeebries in te
ademen, en door mijn lichaam
heen te laten galmen
Was deze dag maar snel voorbij.

The time that ticks
The unbearable time
Like a thick fur around me
The heat on a February day
of the first solar day
I close my eyes
and breath
I try to breathe in a cold sea breeze
and let it echo through my body
If only this day was over quickly.

Fennel

The cold of the streets
I walk
In loneliness
Empty stores
Where is the happiness
Of children
Packing toys
Where is the laughter
Where is the cry
Was it Christmas the day before
The sounds of Winter every day
That was once, never more
When things were jolly
Snowrides and Fennel
The sweet smell of candy canes
Waiting to see Jimmy
Things from the past
Life like an empty film roll
Where are the images
From games and thunder
Where are the stores
Filled…
With fears and laughter
I walk alone
On the empty streets..

The Cab

The Cab
Do you see the shining of the cars
In the darkness
The hellish white in contrast with the black night
Is it a coincidence that they’re all white
Or metallic silver
Thoughts
Of a lonely observer in the night
A cab waiting patiently in the silence
Is there a story you want to tell
Who is your passenger?
What are you bringing me, cab?
Who wants to be alone?
And when it’s gone
I miss it
That warm cab with his history
Of warm breaths, neat clothes and comfort
A soft engine and cold leather on the stearing wheel
The oil of the earth, burning in transport
In time and dimension
The safety of that cab
Standing there
in dead silence of the night
It leaves an open space
Where just was warmth
The shadows are rising
Out of the paving and lights
A dullness
And the awareness
That I’m alone…

In de Middag

Iedere middag, in the afternoon
verstompt mijn hart
De woorden verkleeft in doffe klei
Iedere middag, in de afternoon
Zal er geen woord meer klinken
De witte sneeuw, koud en ongenadig.

Every afternoon, in the afternoon
My heart filled with grieve
With thick blood
The words stick together in dull clay
Every afternoon, in the afternoon
There will be no more words
The white snow, cold and unmerciful

See You In Autumn

I’ll see you in Autumn
When the days are short and the nights long
Filled with words
To pick them out of the cold evening air
The air so thick, clouds packed with thoughts
The memories of Poe and Frost, so close by
Where are you, my Sylvia, Emmy and my gliding Lizzy
The smell of fallen leaves
Creating mountains to ascend
Taking the darkness in
The trees become brains
To cerebrate, to ponder
As mates
Now the air is thin, Spring arrived
Eyes everywhere
No more safely hiding
Or a walk in the dark
The white, clean blossom, the green overwhelming
The light burning, day after day
Morning after morning
Night after night
Dreams lost, the field gone,
No more shadows to capture
Waiting for the dark months of pumkins
Hazelnuts, smelling woods and sniffing dogs
Colourful mushrooms, dancing dwarfs and elves
The morning melancholy mists
Thinking of her
Autumn is for writers
The black nights feeding them, pleasing them
With their touch and mysterious breath
Now there is only Blue
We put away our pens, till the next Autumn
When we’ll meet again and dance in otherly worlds
Till the next winter
Longing for the first sunshine
Her brushes warm and tender
Outbursts of blooming
Dreaming of fields full of harvest
Are we here just to dream
And not to live it, when it’s there
I’ll see you in Autumn..

Dublin Lace

I saw you on the streets of Dublin
Your hair curled up in a shell
Covered with lace
Pale and smelling like the water
Pike, Carp and tench
The oldies, our bricks
Our wooden tables, warm chairs
And the smell of Guinness
It still hurts how good you’re looking
So fresh and clean as the morning dew
The pain of your beautiful face
Pressing on my heart
Lost in the squares of your dress
Counting them with my finger
Faultless, ironed
Her cloved hand in his
Her young child, his first steps
On the streets of Dublin
Her red lips, red and blissful
A perfect picture
I wish it was mine to look at
A mother with her child
A dream of taking her
To ripp off her immaculate clothes
Wash away that mask
Of lies and pretention
We could be one again
On fields of yellow hay
Close to the cows who give us milk
Filled with dreams of green

Every Day Sunday

In the afternoon
It arrives
The darkness
Of the believers
In the cross
In his Holiness
The black crows of the church
On the streets
Spreading their psalms
As victims of diseases
The silence
Every day in the afternoon
Their preaching of their book
And their holy clock
Tick, tock, Tick, tock
Devoutness and purity
The mirth gone
The flowers withering away
The grey, only the grey
Every day in the afternoon
It’s Sunday