tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4629046342760380812024-03-13T11:33:08.335-07:00unassorted poetryunassorted poetry by dutch visual artist and art critic ralf kwaaknijd. rhyme nor sense, beyond taste lies my target.ralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-462904634276038081.post-51232890890071078452012-11-24T15:52:00.000-08:002012-11-25T15:37:31.118-08:00sleeping light<u><br /></u>
<u><br /></u>
<u>sleeping light</u><br />
<br />
i wake i wake<br />
i guess i snatched<br />
some soporific seconds somehow<br />
somewhere in between<br />
<br />
but now i lie<br />
and think of how<br />
today to me you all reacted<br />
what it all might mean<br />
<br />
`you see you do?<br />
i had to choose<br />
twas either you or me compadre'<br />
barely foreseen<br />
<br />
`hello it's me<br />
i had to call<br />
i wanted just to know how are you?'<br />
answering machine<br />
<br />
as morning breaks<br />
i close my lids<br />
and soundless drift in quiet gardens<br />
none of you have been<br />
<br />ralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-462904634276038081.post-31126797562603323742010-06-29T05:21:00.000-07:002010-06-29T05:49:24.050-07:00seeping light<br><br /><br /><u>seeping light</u><br /><br />ripples & the pebble's ricochet<br />to launch is to perturb<br />the quiet pond, <br />its stillness<br /><br />no withstanding the light<br />which seeps from within<br />almost imperceptibly<br />everywhere<br /><br />no comment<br />will do justice<br />no theory will provide<br />no purpose is needed<br />light will find its way <br />and we are only necessary<br />for needing one another<br />-if you ask meralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-462904634276038081.post-16574561860409642782009-12-04T03:54:00.000-08:002009-12-04T16:16:59.688-08:00some silent song<br><br /><br /><u>some silent song</u><br /><br />when flapping you hear heavy wings<br />look up to see a swan fly!<br />be held at point-blank range<br />by beauty<br /><br />incessant hissing: cars<br />low rumbles growing: planes<br />machinery: artillery<br />for building buildings, more than more<br /><br />this crazy world: we crazy ones<br />we did forget where swans once flew<br />we did not heed their singingralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-462904634276038081.post-57756775097261054612009-02-09T03:26:00.000-08:002009-02-11T14:15:04.531-08:00one pale day<br><br /><br /><u>one pale day</u><br /><br />one pale day chasing steeples<br />i fell into the fjord<br />a sailboat passed, its people<br />would not take me aboard<br /><br />i called their name out, to be saved<br />and in reply they kindly waved<br /><br />and some of them did wave some more<br />and kindly watch me swim ashore<br /><br />`come on, it was an easy swim'<br />they later told me in the pub<br />`one need not take a view so dim'<br />but i declined to join their clubralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-462904634276038081.post-63124304111265943372009-02-09T03:10:00.000-08:002009-02-09T03:48:53.711-08:00Emily Dickinson - Heart, we will forget himIn the Netherlands, it is harder than one would think to obtain a selection of Emily Dickinson's poems in English, non-translated. Of course, one has the internet, but I prefer to sit on my couch late nights, no electronics, a quiet book.<br /><br />Am reading such a selection now. Inspiring. Thank you Emily. Just two poems below (you might perhaps not find them impressive, but there is something in the atmosphere of these poems that really grabs me):<br /><br />XLVII<br /><br />HEART, we will forget him! <br /> You and I, to-night! <br />You may forget the warmth he gave, <br /> I will forget the light. <br /> <br />When you have done, pray tell me,<br /> That I my thoughts may dim; <br />Haste! lest while you’re lagging, <br /> I may remember him!<br /><br /><br />LXXII<br /><br />HEART not so heavy as mine, <br />Wending late home, <br />As it passed my window <br />Whistled itself a tune,— <br /> <br />A careless snatch, a ballad,<br />A ditty of the street; <br />Yet to my irritated ear <br />An anodyne so sweet, <br /> <br />It was as if a bobolink, <br />Sauntering this way,<br />Carolled and mused and carolled, <br />Then bubbled slow away. <br /> <br />It was as if a chirping brook <br />Upon a toilsome way <br />Set bleeding feet to minuets<br />Without the knowing why. <br /> <br />To-morrow, night will come again, <br />Weary, perhaps, and sore. <br />Ah, bugle, by my window, <br />I pray you stroll once moreralf kwaaknijdhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14858280007875717606noreply@blogger.com0