Poem No. 84: “A Snowflake Falls” by Ruth Adams

Gedichte, poems
Snowfall
Snowflake

One night I saw a snowflake fall.
Past memories it did recall.

And as the snow fell to the ground,
So quietly without a sound,

I watched until a blanket made,
To glistening white – brown earth did fade.

An untouched cover until the dawn.
The sun arose; it was soon gone.

I thought of friendships in the past.
Seemed perfect though they did not last.

And family ties once meant so much,
Now rarely do we keep in touch.

So quickly life can take a turn,
Yet slowly we do seem to learn.

So many things in life can change
And suddenly be rearranged.

In our slumber while we do sleep,
For granted blessings thought to keep,

For same as night does turn to morn,
An untouched blanket can get torn,

The things that we have overlooked,
Ignored, rejected or mistook,

As melted snow does turn to slush,
Relationships can turn to dust.

So this year for the holiday,
Praise God for blessings given today.

Don’t take for granted they’ll remain,
That life forever will be the same.

Let’s be the most that we can be,
For all our friends and family.

Unlike the snowflake on the ground,
Let’s keep in touch and stay around.

Keep in touch!

Poem No. 77: “Home Office” by Edgar Guest

Gedichte, poems

Home is the place where the laughter should ring,
And man should be found at his best.
Let the cares of the day be as great as they may,
The night has been fashioned for rest.
So leave at the door when the toiling is o’er
All the burdens of worktime behind,
And just be a dad to your girl or your lad–
A dad of the rollicking kind.

The office is made for the tasks you must face;
It is built for the work you must do;
You may sit there and sigh as your cares pile up high,
And no one may criticize you;
You may worry and fret as you think of your debt,
You may grumble when plans go astray,
But when it comes night, and you shut your desk tight,
Don’t carry the burdens away.

Keep daytime for toil and the nighttime for play,
Work as hard as you choose in the town,
But when the day ends, and the darkness descends,
Just forget that you’re wearing a frown–
Go home with a smile! Oh, you’ll find it worth while;
Go home light of heart and of mind;
Go home and be glad that you’re loved as a dad,
A dad of the fun-loving kind.

Tipp No. 33: Contemporary Arts – Buddhism & Transformation by Gonkar Gyatso / Tibet

arts, humor, Insights, Kunst, Reisen, Tipps, Travel, Zen
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ABOUT THE ARTIST

London-based Gonkar Gyatso (b. 1961, Lhasa) creates humorous works informed by both politics and his personal life. “Just as the identity of my homeland cannot be separated from religion and politics, so my own sensibility has been shaped by the undeniable bond between the two.” Gyatso’s practice revolves around the reproduction of Buddhist iconography, calling the Buddha his ‘muse.’ Skillfully incorporating Western and Tibetan cultural themes into his work, Gyatso transforms traditional images of the Buddha into Pop Art-inspired multimedia works that satirize world politics and the mundanity of life. His iconic work titled Pokemon Buddha (2003) marks the first example of what has now become the central theme of his practice; much of his work references the shifts in identity that characterize the life of a migrant.

Poem No. 13: “Send Me A Leaf” (Schicke mir ein Blatt) By Bertolt Brecht (1898 – 1956)

Gedichte, poems, Psychologie, psychology, Reisen, Travel

Send me a leaf, but from a bush
That grows at least one half hour
Away from your house, then
You must go and will be strong, and I
Thank you for the pretty leaf. 

Schicke mir ein Blatt, doch von einem Strauche
Der nicht näher als eine halbe Stunde
Von deinem Haus wächst, dann
Musst du gehen und wirst stark und ich
Bedanke mich für das hübsche Blatt.



Poem No. 52: “The Lost Land” (Das Verlorene Land) by Eavan Boland, Ireland

Gedichte, poems
Ireland
I have two daughters.
They are all I ever wanted from the earth.
Or almost all.
I also wanted one piece of ground:

One city trapped by hills. One urban river.
An island in its element.
So I could say mine. My own.
And mean it.

Now they are grown up and far away
and memory itself
has become an emigrant,
wandering in a place
where love dissembles itself as landscape:

Where the hills
are the colours of a child's eyes,
where my children are distances, horizons:

At night,
on the edge of sleep,
I can see the shore of Dublin Bay.
Its rocky sweep and its granite pier.

Is this, I say
how they must have seen it,
backing out on the mailboat at twilight,
shadows falling
on everything they had to leave?
And would love forever?

And then
I imagine myself
at the landward rail of that boat
searching for the last sight of a hand.

I see myself
on the underworld side of that water,
the darkness coming in fast, saying
all the names I know for a lost land:

Ireland. Absence. Daughter.
Ich habe zwei Töchter.
Sie sind alles was ich von dieser Erde wollte.
Oder fast alles.
Ich wollte auch ein Stück Land:
Eine Stadt umgeben von Hügeln.
Einen städtischen Fluss.
Eine Insel in seinem Element.
So daß ich Meins sehen könnte.
Mein Eigenes.
Und dies auch so meinen.

Nun sind sie erwachsen und weit weg
und selbst die Erinnerung
ist zu einer Erinnerung geworden,
umherwandernd an einem Ort,
wo die Liebe sich selbst zergliedert - als Landschaft:
Wo die Hügel 
die Farbe von Kinderaugen sind,
wo meine Kinder Entfernungen,
Horizonte sind.

In der Nacht
am Rande des Schlafes
kann ich die Küstenlinie der Bucht Dublins sehen.
Ihren felsigen Schwung und ihren Pier aus Granit.

Ist dies, frage ich mich
was sie gesehen haben müssen,
herausfahrend auf einem Postschiff 
in der Dämmerung,
Schatten fallen
auf alles, was sie verlassen müssen?
Und für immer lieben würden?

Und dann 
Stelle ich mich selbst vor 
an der Landseite des Bootes
nach der letzten Sicht einer Hand suchend.
Ich sehe mich
von der Seite der Unterwelt dieses Wassers,
die Dunkelheit kommt rasch,
alle Namen rufend, die ich für ein verlorenes Land kenne.

Irland, Fehlen, Tochter.  

(Übersetzung von Weiss-Nix)
Bildergebnis für leaving Ireland
Irish Migrants

Poem No. 40: “Merry Christmas!” to all of you – (Poem: “Christmas Tree – Weihnachtsbaum”)

Gedichte, poems
Winter Wonderland!
"MERRY CHISTMAS!" to all of you …

Enjoy Some Quality Time With Your Beloved Ones,
if you`re celebrating "Christmas" or not.

Love, peace, happiness, more "light", music, funny stories, hugs, ruthless
overeating and going for a walk...for everybody!

Yours,
Weiss-Nix

Der Weihnachtsbaum

Strahlend, wie ein schöner Traum,
steht vor uns der Weihnachtsbaum.

Seht nur, wie sich goldenes Licht
auf den zarten Kugeln bricht.

“Frohe Weihnacht” klingt es leise
und ein Stern geht auf die Reise.

Leuchtet hell vom Himmelszelt –
hinunter auf die ganze Welt.

The Christmas Tree

Lucent like a beautiful dream,
the christmas tree is standing in front of us.

Just look, how the golden light
is breaking on the frail christmas baubles.

"Merry Christmas", it sounds gently
and a star is going on a journey.

Shining brightly from the firmament -
down on All The World.

(translated by Weiss-Nix) 
Ähnliches Foto
Ähnliches Foto
In the Black Forrest / Germany….
Ähnliches Foto
Christmas Tree in front of the Münster in Ulm (cathedral) / Germany