Autumn

Silvester / It Is Harvest

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Silvester

Wunderkerzen sprühen
und verglühen,
Sektbläschen blinken
und sinken…
und ein Gedanke blitzt auf!

Word cloud in warm colours; in the middle: "still", "rising", "faces", "leaves", "life".

Mit jedem Tag,
der dir entschwindet,
wirst du reicher
an Erlebnis,
an Erfahrung.

Mit jedem Jahr,
das dir verwelkt,
wächst du
an Geduld,
an Gelassenheit.

Christina Egan © 2013

It Is Harvest

Burning sparkler on black background, looking like a supernova!

So you thought life was past?
It has only begun.
For whatever you’ve lost
there is something you’ve won.
For whatever you’ve missed
there is something you’ve learned.
It is harvest: persist
and reap all that you earned.

Christina Egan ©2008

Photograph by Gabriel Pollard [CC BY-SA 2.5].
Featured picture on Wikimedia Commons.

650 poems posted on this site !

Happy New Year to everyone!

Word cloud in warm colours; in the middle: "still", "rising", "faces", "leaves", "life".

This is the word cloud (not of the tags but of the texts) of all English poems posted on this site in the past year. Another year of love and life and leaves… and of mass consumption, mass media, and mass murder.

With thanks to the excellent tool Simple Word Cloud Generator!

Shooting-stars (Damp Wood)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Shooting-stars

Damp wood, damp walls: the world smells of decay.
The scented roses are resurgent, yet
too many leaves are falling, fallen, wet
across the spotless lawn, the winding way.
Above Bruce Castle’s reddish parapet
and wayward weather-vane, the veil of grey
is torn apart to let a dazzling ray
caress the clock-face, still for summer set.
The light is fierce and will not be subdued,
the clock smiles sky-blue with a rim of gold,
the grass is glittering and fresh and bold,
and then the sky itself triumphs, renewed.
All this eclipsing, flash on flash, they pass:
the parakeets, a dozen shooting-stars.

Christina Egan ©2020

Turret painted in pink, with bright-blue clockface and golden weather-vane, under a blue sky.
Bruce Castle, Tottenham, England.
Photograph: Christina Egan ©2017.

This sonnet was read at an
event of Tottenham Trees
at Bruce Castle Museum
in November 2024, together
with Thought Bench and
Hollow Oak (Anglo-Saxon spell).

I Do Not Ask for Love / A Thousand Leaves

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

I Do Not Ask for Love

I do not ask for love,
for I have none to give –
and yet I beg for life,
for leave to make you live,

to live as if the day
were fitting like a glove,
to breathe as if to pray
to beauty were enough,

to tremble as if time
had finished or begun,
to let two faces shine
as if two hearts were one.

I do not ask for words
of last or lasting love,
I cannot offer worlds –
one kiss shall be enough.

Christina Egan ©2006

Maple leaf, close-up, flaming golden and orange against dull background.

A Thousand Leaves

A thousand leaves in brownish bronze,
a thousand leaves thrust by the wind,
a rustling sea… a jostling crowd…
And then, with sudden sunset glint,
with guileless smile, one reaches out.

Christina Egan ©2010

Sycamore leaf. Photograph: Christina Egan ©2020.

Parkbank im Herbst

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Autumn colours: tree with bright orange leaves, some fallen onto the ground.Parkbank im Herbst

Glühend hängt im Geäst,
welches sich klaglos entblättert,

das hehre Gestirn,
blendend und fern,

ein verspäteter König
ohne Gefolge rosiger Wolken… 

Und ausgeschnitten  aus den Schatten
ersteht ein Geviert von jauchzendem Glanz!

Christina Egan ©2008

Photograph: Christina Egan ©2016.

The Purple Grape

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

The Purple Grape

The purple grape,
soaked with a whole summer,
bears more than sweetness in it:

secret sparks
which will burst on your tongue,
which will rise like fire
to your temples, your wrists.

The purple grape’s flesh,
crushed, filtered, fermented,
harbours a truth,
a dark and dense
and undiscovered truth,
a relentless ruler.

Find dreams flipping over
into life, find sun
running through your veins,
find the more
you were made for.

Christina Egan © 2006

Dasein (Herbstanfang)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Dasein
(Herbstanfang)

Gleich einem lichtgefleckten Fichtenpfad,
bevor die ersten schweren Tropfen fallen,
erstreckt sich der Septembernachmittag
vor uns, als sei die Welt ein Wohlgefallen.

Wir dürfen auf die Wolkenschiffe steigen
und mit dem Bussard über Wipfeln stehn!
Obgleich die Strahlen sich ab morgen neigen,
wird unsre Schale langsam sich erhöhn.

Die Dächerschar erglüht im ersten Dämmer,
das Auge badet sich in buntem Glück…
Wir können unser Dasein nicht verlängern,
vertiefen aber jeden Augenblick.

Christina Egan © 2019

Treetops and summer sky seen from below.

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2013.

Mond und Morgenstern

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Mond und Morgenstern

Du könntest den Mond berühren,
den Mond und den Morgenstern.
Ich harre an offenen Türen;
du schaust nur herüber von fern.

Versäumst du die kostbare Stunde
des herbstlichen Sternschnuppenfalls?
Ich stehe mit bebendem Munde,
als seist du die Mitte des Alls.

Ich möchte dir näher begegnen,
bevor uns der Sommer entsinkt,
anstatt eine Hand zu segnen,
die nur im Vorübergehn winkt.

Ich sah, daß in deinen Augen
verlorenes Mondlicht liegt.
Ich möchte so gern an dich glauben…
Ich hätte dich gerne geliebt.

Christina Egan © 2018

Wetterfahne / Weather-Vane

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Wetterfahne

Delicate turret with weather-vane, on elegant curved roof with clockface.Jemand muß die Wolken jagen…
Jemand muß die Bäume fragen:
Seid ihr glücklich? Seid ihr satt?
Jemand muß den Regen ahnen,
eher als die Wetterfahnen,
eher als das Espenblatt.

Jemand muß die Sonne sichten,
Frost und Feuer in den Lüften
und den ungeheuren Sturm.
Jemand muß die Schwalben fragen:
Wird die Erde uns noch tragen?
Wetterfahne auf dem Turm!

Christina Egan © 2018

Weather-Vane

Turret painted in pink, with bright-blue clockface and golden weather-vane, under a blue sky.The weather-vane is turning,
the sinking sun is burning
and burnishing its gold.
The slender birch is swaying,
its golden veil is fraying…
The year is getting old.

The weather-vane is creaking,
the cold and damp are seeping
into the window-frames.
The golden flag is flashing,
the elements are splashing
their vigour into space!

Christina Egan © 2018

These two poems about weather-vanes were written on the same November day, but are not versions of the same text.

The first one alludes to a sensitive and at the same time sensible person, who keenly feels changes in weather and climate  — and asks how long we shall be able to live on this earth.

The second one describes sunset and autumn as images of ageing — and at the same time celebrating life!

Gut Hasselburg, Holstein, Germany; Bruce Castle, Tottenham, England. Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014/© 2017.

Remember November

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Remember November

Eight times the leaves have paled,
been plucked and swept away,
eight times the sun has waned
and steeped the days in grey;
eight times the loom of spring
has woven rainbow rugs,
eight times made blackbirds sing
between the bursting buds;
eight times the fruit has swelled
and, in its turn, the fog,
eight times the frost has quelled
the sap’s impatient throb –
Eight years my heart has found
its breath and path in you;
eight years it’s watched your mouth
for words as warm as true.

Christina Egan © 2005

This anniversary poem goes through the seasons, with a focus on autumn. You could change the title and the number of years if you want it for your own anniversary, perhaps even swap the lines, starting with spring.

Coal Tits / Leaf Surf

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Coal Tits

Coal tits are weaving through the leaves,
leaves tinged with gold and tinged with rust;
the earth, relieved of darkness, breathes
before the leaves will turn to dust.

Coal tits are chirping in the leaves,
wings tinged with fire, tinged with ashes;
their song is weaving with the breeze
through our windows’ rigid meshes…

Christina Egan © 2017

Songbird with yellow breast, otherwise grey, black & white, on bare branch with orange lichen.

Leaf Surf

The lawn lies like an emerald bay,
like golden sand the fallen leaves.
The wind is waltzing on the roofs,
the wind is leaping through the streets,
it rolls into the shimmering heaps,
it stirs them up, it whirls them up,
it sweeps a wilful whispering surf
onto the sun-bathed autumn turf!
The earth takes one last joyful breath
before the shade falls like a spell.
That there is so much death in life
and so much dancing life in death…

Christina Egan © 2017

Photograph by makamuki0 (Marc Pascual).