Here I am standing again in front of the old tower.
It lasted for hundreds and hundreds of years.
The stones are weathered, strong and dark.
My heart feels the two names in the corner.
They are barely visible, but still there,
when my eyes adjust to the dark.
My memory of our first kiss is weathered
and strong like the stones,
but it is bright.



Voices of autumn


The alders whisper in the wind.
From the lake, reed adds its choir.
The laughter sings the melody.
Form the garden, I scent bon-fire.

I am standing in the meadow,
Clouds are racing through the sky,
Watching my kids with fascination
as they allow their kites to fly.

My eyes turn to the horses,
who are standing close near by,
Looking at us with suspicion;
why does mindkind always try.
Friends come by, we sit to talk.
A lot of chatting rings out soon.
Slowly the sun sets, it gets colder.
What a autumn afternoon.

© GedichtArt

A big thank you to AC Benus for editing this poem, when I wrote it last year. Today was another wonderful autumn day, remembering me of these lines.



Time traveler

Well this one was part of a response to a poem of my good friend AC. It should have rhymed in all stanzas, but it didn`t want to.
Please read also the wonderful sonnet from AC, which caused my response, click here.

Time Traveler

Trying to hold time is like catching a rainbow
understandable but utterly useless.
To make a perfect moment remain involuntary
takes its magic and its perfection.

The memories we posses are not completely detached from today
in good or in bad they accompany us.
So things are never entirely over
there is always a fine thread connected to the present.

Prevent the good memories from fading – with luck –
while you wait for the decreasing of the painful ones.
All we can hope, in the end better memories stuck.

Maybe time is not like a river, more than a fine spun web
every move we make, lets vibrate as silvery thread.
So we touch other souls with each single step.

© GedichtArt

Sommerzeit / summertime


Im aufgehenden Sternenlicht, wenn die Liebkosungen des lauen Windes mit denen unseren Händen konkurrieren und wir davon gesättigt einander in die Arme sinken, weiß ich der Sommer ist da.

In heißen Nächten, wenn die Tropfen schmelzender Eiswürfel langsam über deine erhitzte Haut rinnen und ich dich seufzen höre in süßer Qual, weiß ich der Sommer ist da.

In den wenigen kühlen Morgenstunden, wenn wir erwachen und uns der Duft nach Blüten und reifenden Früchten dazu anhält, zueinander zu finden und das Leben zu feiern, weiß ich der Sommer ist da.

In den geruhsamen Mittagsstunden, wenn wir im Schatten ruhen, müde vom Liebesspiel und doch nicht müde einander zu necken und zu reizen und schließlich erneut ineinander sinken, weiß ich der Sommer ist da.

Am Nachmittag, wenn wir an kleinen Espressotassen nippen, das Gebräu so bittersüß auf unseren Lippen und wir teilen ebenso heiße, bittersüße Küsse, bis erneut der Abendstern auf uns herab lächelt, weiß ich der Sommer ist da.

In der tief dunkeln Nacht, wenn meine Füße unter dem dünnen Tuch anfangen zu frieren und ich mich eng an dich schmiege, die letzte Wärme des Sommers suchend,
weiß ich der Herbst kommt.

Mach das Fenster zu. Du bist für immer mein Sommer.


In the rising starlight, when the caresses of the rose-sweet wind compete with those of our hands and we sink into each other’s arms, I know the summer is here.

In hot nights, when the drops of melting ice cubes trickle slowly over your heated skin and I hear you sigh in sweet torment, I know the summer is here.

In the few cool mornings, when we wake up and the fragrance of flowers and ripening fruits encourages us to celebrate life, I know that summer is here.

In the leisurely noon hours, when we rest in the shade, tired of lovemaking and yet not tired of teasing and arousing passion again, I know that summer is here.

In the afternoon, when we sip on small espresso cups, the brew is so bittersweet on our lips and we share equally hot, bittersweet kisses, until once again the evening star smiles about our ardor, I know the summer is here.

In the deep dark night, when my feet begin to freeze beneath the thin blanket and I snuggle in close to you seeking the warmth, I know autumn is coming.

Close the window. And love me fervently, you my summer.

© GedichtArt