“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.” (Robin Williams)
I’m honoured that you’ve stumbled over one of my lines and kept reading!My writing is simply about what “moves my heart”, about things that keep me going and things that make me stop for a minute and just marvel. It’s a human “privilege” to think and reflect in a matter of time and the realization that we’ll all die raises the question of finding a meaning in life, too. I havent’t figuered it out yet, but for now it’s enough for me to try to find my balance, again and again.
Writing, words and the magic that sometimes is found in one line….is for me like painting a landscape : of course the moment you’re standing there in this beautiful place is only happening right there, right at that time, but trying to capture this feeling, this moment, the colour of the sky in that very moment when the breeze lifts up your hair and you feel so much and so emptied at the same time? I’m not claiming to recreate reality or being a better writer or artist than anybody else – but life is a journey and if my writing makes you feel SOMETHING, awesome! If you like it, leave a comment, as I’d be happy to know what you think or feel while reading my lines. If you don’t like it, Please take a second and also leave a comment, as I’m quite curious about your thoughts about it.
To all those humble hearts out there who also look for a way to balance in this dance called life. I’m a dreamer, two bare feet standing in the damp sand at sunrise – wondering how I got so lucky to breathe once more.
This world is a crazy chaos and reality’s always a personal illusion – and society’s expectations are even more crazy , so you might call me a homeless, but don’t call me a hopeless. I think adults should be honest with their kids telling them they have no clue what they are doing most of the time. I wished someone would have told me when I was five. But in the end, as different we all may be, as different our lives may be and wherever you are in your life and on this planet right now, in the end we’re all passengers who are given only a certain amount of time on it. And what a waste of time to worry about being better, faster, prettier, smarter, richer, stronger or more talented than somebody else, when hiking up that mountain with someone on your side is worth so much and so much more enjoyable than the sheer fact of having climbed it all by yourself and looking down onto the heads of those who would have needed only a little encouragement. We’re all just passengers asking for the way. Luckily there is not only one way how life goes.
Humans are designed for connection, hardwired or however you want to call it – and poets of the past and of the present are simply painters of words and they connect people – all over the world , living in different places or even different times -may it be ancient greek mythology, Shakespeare, E.A.Poe, Goethe, or the modern form of poetry in songs.
If you like, come along on my journey and possibly you can feel the salty breeze while reading. Or relate to my frustration living in a city. I’m a dreamer, wanderer, wonderer and writer, and as you’ll notice in my poems, I’m more me when I’m close to nature and close to the sea.