Poetry

On this page you can find some of my poems. Some are dedicated to work, friends, family or artists I admire, others deal with traumatic events. 

All are time stamped at the bottom, but appear in no particular order on this page.

Silent Teachers


We spend hours together;

Weeks, months and sometimes even years.

Colourful lines on white paper,

Forever sharing them with my peers. 


I observed your features,

Studied every corner of your face.

I know every inch of your body, 

Getting a glimpse of what it means to be myself. 


You are my reflection,

Answering my questions in your eternal sleep.

A hidden world, 

Which is only yours to give or keep. 


I know you better than myself,

But I don’t know you in the slightest.

All I know is your gift,

Making my life one of the brightest. 


A decision you made,

As small as you might think it was,

Helped shaping my future 

And deserves a round of applause.



For the Donor Appreciation Ceremony


February 2019, Grenada - Grand Anse

East Wind


The compass spun.

The East wind blew.

Greeted by the sun

And the blue seas, too. 


Kites up in the air, 

Dragons in trees. 

Skin so fair,

Use sunscreen please.


The rainforest called,

Paper trails left.

Up the mountains we crawled,

Scratches marked the quest. 


Sparkling gems in the sand,

And hours of looking.

Food of the land,

And hours of cooking.


Friendships revived,

Time flew past.

The west wind arrived,

This won’t be the last. 


With laughter brighter than the sun.

Every day was never ending fun.



For Vanessa Schmidt


February 2019, Grenada - Grand Anse 

Secret Beach 


The path to meet you is a rocky one,

Your touch is glowing by the grace of the sun. 


Hidden away you lay alongside the water, 

One of the islands many a daughter. 


Overlooking the Caribbean Seas, 

Your shores are hidden underneath the oldest of trees. 


Bearing the children of the great blue, 

But laying to rest their elders, too.


The Ocean is taking what once belonged, 

Making sure this place shall never be thronged.


Stories told are kept unknown in whole, 

Never shared with another passing soul.


Every eventide you drift slowly asleep, 

With all the secrets you are bound to keep. 



February 2019, Grenada - Secret Beach 





Memento ridere 
(remember you must laugh)


Fire grew out of his cheeks,

The crackling sound of wood

released sparks of laughter into the air. 


Braiding its way down forgotten structures, 

unveiling them in a blink of an eye.

Another memory of a decade gone by

manifested itself, piercing a hole in the facade. 


Solemnity embraced buffoonery,

finding its path down humerus-ly tugging at heartstrings. 


As laughter slowly faded into the distance,

All that was left were charcoal lines on white paper. 



For Peter L.

February 2019, Grenada - Dr. Grooms Beach 

Summer


Leaves in the sky,

The ocean below,

Time passes by

Incredibly slow



May 2019, Grenada - Grand Anse 



Life


Let me laugh again,

It’s hard enough as it is. 

Finding balance on the tightrope,

Eager to reach the other side. 


For Phoenix Rising

September 2019, Grenada - True Blue



The Corpse in the Copse


Heat ascending from the ground,

Leaves were falling.

Orange and red

Turning yellow.


Sweetness filled the air like mist,

Softly merging into mushy soil.

Brown and wet

Becoming mellow.


Silence was finally striking root,

Sucking it dry.

Gloomy and drab

Draining marrow.


Curling up into a coil

Massive but yet 

Sounding hollow.


The Corpse in the copse,

was never a corpse.


November 2015, The Netherlands - The Hague

The Corpse in the Copse V.2


#1 Summer.


Up. So white.

Down. So dead.


#2 Autumn. 


Heat ascending from the ground,

Leaves were falling.

Orange and red

Turning yellow.


Sweetness filled the air like mist,

Softly merging into mushy soil.

Brown and wet

Becoming mellow.


Silence was finally striking root,

Sucking it dry.

Gloomy and drab

Draining marrow.


Curling up into a coil

Massive but yet 

Sounding hollow.


#3 Winter.


Up. So White.

Down. White again. 


#4 Spring.


Asleep.

But never truly sleeping.

Dead.

But never able to die.


Close,

Closer,

Alive again or still.


One becomes a thousand.

A thousand become one.


The sweetness is gone.

The air is fresh.


#5 Clarity.


The Corpse in the copse,

was never a corpse.


January 2016, The Netherlands - The Hague

I died / J.C. 


I died

and my body wasn’t my own. 


Trails were laid,

But weren’t followed.

Decision made,

While they wallowed.


Turns were taken

Against my will.

My spirit broken,

Shedding tears still.


A piece of me stolen,

Never to be returned.


One day I’ll die 

and my body will be my own.



May 2019, Grenada - Grand Anse 




No


I was asleep,

Then viewed my body from above. 


I needed to say no,

But I didn’t know how to. 


I had no control.


F. marked me.

With invisible scars.


I marked myself,

Writing it out loud for everyone to see: 


No.


I took back control.


I was asleep, again,

Then viewed my body from above, again.


I needed to say no once more,

I knew how. 


But I still had no control.


J.C. marked me,

This time with a branding iron.


Not once, 

but twice. 


It keeps burning.



June 2019, Grenada - Grand Anse

Coped


What is coping?

My chest is pounding. 

I’m short of breath.


What is coping?

My eyes tear up.

My throat is clogged. 


What is coping?

I’m eating cake.

I bake more.


What is coping?

Shoes or no shoes.

I keep running.


What is coping?

I should say something.

Out comes nothing. 


I have not coped. 



August 2019, Grenada - True Blue





The body keeps the score


One. Screams, Scratches and a cold shoulder. 

Two. Words, Manipulation and the inside of a hand.


Food, Muscles and Words become amour.


Three. Drinks, Asleep and hands all over.

Four. Words, Deprivation and Abandonment.


Saying “NO” forever is supposed to protect. 


Five. Asleep, Frozen and way too close.

Six. Still asleep, still frozen and tearing apart.


Too many points scored. Time to reset. 



August 2019, Grenada - True Blue




Anniversary


My trauma has seasons. 


Spring - Coming out of darkness, trying to forget.

Summer - The sun melting ice crystals off my face.

Autumn - Crystals turn into waterfalls of tears.

Winter - The cold makes me unable to move, once again.


Healing is hard when the year turns over.

Winter pulls you back even on an island of eternal sunshine.

And then there is spring again. 


My trauma has an anniversary.



For the 1st year anniversary of a traumatic event.


April 2020, Grenada - Grand Anse 




Release


Your heart is pounding

Your fingers are twitching

You stare down into the abyss


One more step 
and there is no coming back.

Breathe in; Lungs expanding

Release; Voooooooo


One step back
And there is safety


Breathe in; Lungs expanding

Release; Voooooooo


Another step back 

Eyes wide open


Breathe in; Lungs expanding
Release; Voooooooo

The abyss never was an abyss.
It is a canyon full of sharp ridges and beautiful formations. 


You are here to remain.



For Victoria Ford


April 2020, Grenada - Grand Anse




Rough waters


A life on the horizon,

Setting sail full of hopes.

Weather’s changing slowly,

Sailing into a storm.


The storm is exciting,

It leads you astray.

Winds are gushing,

Waves are breaking.


A wall of water swallows you,

Every breath is a fight.

Head above water,

Gripping on tightly.


This life on the horizon,

Has altered your hopes.

Weather’s changing slowly,

Sailing out of the storm.


Home-bound with a dog’s smile.


For Jon Totten  


April 2020, Grenada - Grand Anse