Categorie archief: All Poetry

Electric Dreams On The Road

The Rocking Ocean

The Rocking Ocean

My father was a Rock,
my mother she was Ocean,
and when they met,
out of the waves so gently laid
upon the pebbled beach,
I came into this Life,
and so it is:
the Rock becomes a thousand pebbles
and the Ocean takes,
takes back
what at first Love was Hers:
an everlasting, Soul consuming,
deeply moving wave embracing Time,
and all of us.

My father was a Rock,
my mother she was Ocean,
the beach their gentle playing ground,
the waves their tune,
the tide their song,
the stars at night the scene
for what at morning light
became a memory for years to come
and all of this is given
and all of this is seen
by those who with a silent song
sing to the everlasting rocks
and dance to the embrace of Time,
the whispering wave of Love.

My father was a Rock,
my mother she was Ocean,
and when they met,
out of the waves so gently laid
upon the pebbled beach,
I came into this Life,

and when my Time has come
remember then the waves
remember then this Rock
and how I called the Ocean
to take back what was Hers.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways

Poetry Reading: Two beautiful 19th century love poems: “How do I love thee” (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Barret-Browning (1806-1861)  and “Sudden Light” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882). Text is displayed in the video, so you can read along while listening.

Motherland – Peace and Freedom Tribute Poem

(For all who embrace freedom in a peaceful way)

For each who talks,
for each who walks,
for each there is a beach,
for each to print a footstep here,
for each to share a tear

For each and every one of us
for each a Womb to meet
for each and every one of us
in each our Hearts will beat

For each who fights,
for each who writes,
for each there is a hand,
for each who weeps,
for each who sleeps,
for each there is a land

For each and every one of us
for each here shed a tear
for each and every one of us
for each this Sea shall hear

For each who falls,
for each who calls,
for each there is a Tomb,
for each who strays,
for each who prays,
for each there is a Womb

For each and every one of us
for each our sins we’ll give
for each and every one of us
for each She shall forgive

For each who grieves,
for each who leaves,
for each there is a Home,
for each who craves,
for each the waves
shall offer silent praise

For each and every one of us
for each here shed a tear
for each and every one of us
for each this Sea shall hear

For each who bled,
the waves turned red,
they colored their embrace,
their lips became
a silent blame,
for each and every face

For each and every one of them,
for each we will remain
for each and every one of them
Love’s witness of their pain

For each who cries,
for each who dies,
for each there is a wave,
for each who breathes
and suffocates
the Motherland awaits

For each and every one of us,
for each beginnings near,
for each and every one of us
for each then be them dear

And gently then,
and gently then,
as Heart’s beat fades away,
for each who sings,
for each Sea brings,
the wave to Soul’s D-day

For each and every one of us
for each here we shall pray
for each and every one of us
for each this Sea shall stay

From each who falls,
from each who calls,
from each She asks belief,
for each who strays,
for each who prays,
for each shall be relief

For each and every one of us
for each these waves will be
for each and every one of us
Her Womb Eternity

I Ching Millefolium

ACHILLEA MILLEFOLIUM (in memory of Han Boering)

Today the millefolium
is flourishing in the garden,
its leaves impossible to count,
its colours of amazing beauty,
just as many visiting,
tasted their smell
like as a huge one 100,
talking in strange tongues
it seemed like Babylon
they asked a lot of questions
but still the same sun shone on all
and all of them,
without much thought,
they picked a stalk
and 50 then were left behind
and then came 1
gathering their catch
what questions then were left to them?
and to what colour then
was their attention drawn?
what smell kept burning in their eyes?
yet all of them are singing
to the selfsame melody,
and all of them are lavished
by the selfsame well
So as today the fish
around, around are dancing
as princes and princesses,
so once spoke Apollonious:
“though this be madness,
yet there’s method in it”

Today the millefolium
is flourishing in the garden,
gripping then the looking,
and shrouded then the memory,
what use in counting if the sum is known?
Today this monument
is flourishing in the garden,
built for eternities,
invisibly with hands constructed,
we watch, we cannot understand
as 1 who knows:
“nowhere is there a habitat for answers,
for those who only seek solutions”
why not then to the garden disappear
where now the millefolium resides
the home of 1000 questions now,
like as a huge one 100,
and where all stalks, once counted,
this answer offer:
“the woman here, dwells in the centre,
and nourishment will follow
when bonds in families
will shine out clear and bright,
that’s how connexion grows”

Today the millefolium
is flourishing in the garden,
the questioning is over,
and Love is growing.

(Ps: The counting of dried branches of the Achillea Millefolium is used as an ancient method to consult the “I Ching”, the Chinese “Book of Changes”. I wrote the poem to honour Han Boering, Dutch I Ching Master, who passed away in June, 2015). He wrote outstanding books on the matter, and was an expert in explaining and advising those who came for questions and answers.)