My Poetry.

Poetics, certainly my major weakness. Nevertheless my ambitious plan is to improve my skills and provide you with a few bearable pieces. You can find the best products of my very limited poetical skills right here. You're welcome to leave a comment and let me know what you think about my work. Many more poems are only available in german, yet.


The frame was supposed to be of ebony,
Instead it’s made from willow tree,
As the paint starts to fade,
Memories of what used to be.


The dust on canvas can’t be seen,
By people from too far away.
The brushwork one can not redeem,
No false assumptions lead astray.


Once you stroke the palette’s wood,
Be sure to draw the best you could.


If I could change a thing about it,
I’d make my painting large for sure,
So I could draw what I like most,
And all the things I did before,
And all the things that I might do,
And even things I never did,
So I can be as sad as now,
Knowing what I had to miss.

So many lines I never drew,
So many faces never known,
Apart from what I thought I knew,
I’m happy and I’m not alone.


So there’s still time for us to paint,
To paint what we would love to see,
Through what we do and what we did,
The painting’s just a memory.


If I could change a thing about it,
I’d make my painting large for sure,
So I could draw the both of us,
And all the things we did before,
And all the things that we might do,
And even things we never did,
So we can be as glad as now,
Knowing what we loved to miss.


No going back, no point to turn,
For now it’s only you and me,
We’re everything that we got now,
The painting, me and memory.

The Seasons Of Life


There are two autumn leaves,
Unawarely dancing around each other,
Just to end up reaching the ground together.

People Are Stories


People are stories,

They need to be shared for a happy ending.
Because what good is a happy ending if it's not read?

Involute Pathst


While the drops hop over puddles,
And sink into softer ground,
The shoes I’m wearing make it hard,
To make my stepping efforts count.


Yet, I envy the endless stream,
Knowing where it needs to go.
From the sky to grounds below,
Just enjoying the free ride.

For me, I sadly can’t decide,
Where I even want to go.
So I’d really like to be,
Simply pouring down on me.





As I reach the cobbled road,
I spent so much looking for,
My reflection in the rain,
Doesn’t look like me for sure.

I turn right round in despare,
Not knowing what is there to see,
When clearly I chose every part,
Of the path leading up me.


Sunken Head and shrugged shoulders,
Are my only fellows now,
Still I’m walking down this road,
Hoping for relieve somehow.

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