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The Black Ship
Pestilential bubos and bilious
discharge of pus
On which the black ship flees
The hull filled with precious
treasures
In the ports, the pirates are
pushing
From the taverns to the sloops
In flashes the horror
recognizes itself
And fear gives way to a sharp
panic
Even old rites do not appease
The wrath of God in foamy
swells
Nothing can fight the sinking
anymore
But it sails past
The black ship
Freed of bile, blood and plague
Homewards
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
(from the German original 2013)
#poetsflashbackweekend
Another spring
The house long gone
But granny still waving
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
#poetshaikuplus host @berniboux
•
Swimming with dolphins
Blue sky with fair weather
clouds
But plastic debris
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
#poetshaikuplus
Invited by @berniboux •
Twilight mise-en-scène
Twilight advances as a
mise-en-scène
In colors, it boasts of the
joie de vivre
Only to give way to the night
Which suddenly falls, together
with us
The night paralyzes colors and
sounds
The flowers stop smelling
Maybe except the gilliflower
From the cot you only see
darkness
The forest behind the meadow has
disappeared
The wanderer already found his
night’s stay
Only the wind stays outside and
guesses its way
Cunningly, meandering between
black trunks
In our dreams, however, revives
the twilight
With light and colors, scents
and song
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
and picture
#poetstheoriginal
#poetsmewe
Loneliness
When loneliness grabs you again
The night has lost its stars
The moon does not shine anymore
Nor does the wind talk to you
When loneliness grabs you again
Tears have no use any more
The telephone does not ring
Conversations have turned to
silence
When loneliness grabs you again
Then you can still sleep and
dream
And the stars are shining again
While the wind whispers in your
ear
But come back from your dreams
When loneliness grabs you again
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
and picture
#poetstheoriginal
#poetsmewe
The stormy wind
The stormy wind sweeps through
the trees,
Fresh buds and flowers of the
bushes,
Tears at the clouds, then
drives them on,
That light and shadow furrow
through the fields.
The yellow daffodils hold their
cheeks
Tightly together and cry out
their fears
To face this wind that
threatens their lives.
Then rain starts falling and
the storm is gone.
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
and picture
#poetstheoriginal
#poetsmewe
Roses
Roses
I wanted roses
Red roses
The old flower seller
Grumbling old man he was
Out of a sudden
He threw
Fire into my arms
I nearly yelled at
The treacherous graybeard
The fire wasn’t consuming
It was full of love
Burning … yearning
Maybe every rose has a thorn
But I’m happy with such roses
© 2019 Lothar M. Kirsch poem
and picture
#poetstheoriginal
#poetsmewe
.
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