Old Poems
Created | Updated Jun 27, 2005
Dez. 1979
Lonely nights
Memories of precious embraces
fading in the mist of time,
sweet words of love spoken softly
traveling backwards through space,
gestures and sounds once familiar
slowly losing meaning and reality
a once constant presence dead!
leaving nothing except lifeless photographs
and longings
and a voice on a tape
and tears
in endless lonely nights.
Dez. 1979
How many lonely people
there must be in this town!
Staring at empty ceilings,
weeping into pillows of down;
waiting for the phone to ring,
hoping for someone to care,
longing for a loving voice
to take away the emptiness,
the despair ...
If all the lonely people got together
wouldn’t it half the number of the lost?
couldn’t bleak, meaningless existence
turn into joy, into peace for most?
August 1980
Love is never easy
love always hurts
at its most supreme moments
and in its most unfulfilled despair.
Septembr 1980
I don’t want you
to stay forever,
just long enough to take your time,
time to know my soul,
time to know my body,
time to let me know you,
explore you and find
time for us – to love.
1974
Oh, that I could be loved again
and be held close to his heart –
to feel my flesh against his flesh
to be one – even if it does not last.
To delight in the sun,
in the moon and the stars,
to feel the wind in my hair,
to feel his eyes on me
and his lips on mine
and to be close – and beloved
and I shall ask no more!
Oktober 1981
Alone
Driving alone,
soft music in bars,
happy people,
cars traveling at speed,
lights, laughing faces
of couples – couples everywhere.
Lines outside of motels.
phones ringing,
hot rhythms,
dancing feet
of couples – couples everwhere.
Kissing at traffic sings,
blaring radios,
loving eyes
of couples – couples everywhere
on Friday nights.
May 1982
For Peter
Your voice sounds lost
over the telephone line,
like a sigh drifting
up to the clouds,
like a frayed band of mist
pulled across the sky;
like a feather blowing
on the wind ...
ethereal, lost and lonely;
and I do not want
to give it substance,
I love it the way it is.
May 1982
Illusion
We feed ourselves
on illusions,
we see only what we
want to see
and when we glimpse
reality through the
selfmade mist
it nearly destroys us.
Lonely nights
Memories of precious embraces
fading in the mist of time,
sweet words of love spoken softly
traveling backwards through space,
gestures and sounds once familiar
slowly losing meaning and reality
a once constant presence dead!
leaving nothing except lifeless photographs
and longings
and a voice on a tape
and tears
in endless lonely nights.
Dez. 1979
How many lonely people
there must be in this town!
Staring at empty ceilings,
weeping into pillows of down;
waiting for the phone to ring,
hoping for someone to care,
longing for a loving voice
to take away the emptiness,
the despair ...
If all the lonely people got together
wouldn’t it half the number of the lost?
couldn’t bleak, meaningless existence
turn into joy, into peace for most?
August 1980
Love is never easy
love always hurts
at its most supreme moments
and in its most unfulfilled despair.
Septembr 1980
I don’t want you
to stay forever,
just long enough to take your time,
time to know my soul,
time to know my body,
time to let me know you,
explore you and find
time for us – to love.
1974
Oh, that I could be loved again
and be held close to his heart –
to feel my flesh against his flesh
to be one – even if it does not last.
To delight in the sun,
in the moon and the stars,
to feel the wind in my hair,
to feel his eyes on me
and his lips on mine
and to be close – and beloved
and I shall ask no more!
Oktober 1981
Alone
Driving alone,
soft music in bars,
happy people,
cars traveling at speed,
lights, laughing faces
of couples – couples everywhere.
Lines outside of motels.
phones ringing,
hot rhythms,
dancing feet
of couples – couples everwhere.
Kissing at traffic sings,
blaring radios,
loving eyes
of couples – couples everywhere
on Friday nights.
May 1982
For Peter
Your voice sounds lost
over the telephone line,
like a sigh drifting
up to the clouds,
like a frayed band of mist
pulled across the sky;
like a feather blowing
on the wind ...
ethereal, lost and lonely;
and I do not want
to give it substance,
I love it the way it is.
May 1982
Illusion
We feed ourselves
on illusions,
we see only what we
want to see
and when we glimpse
reality through the
selfmade mist
it nearly destroys us.
