yy TYPES OF POETRY

Ich steh’ im Felde wie der Lindenbaum

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Ich steh’ im Felde wie der Lindenbaum

Ich steh’ im Felde wie der Lindenbaum,
im Frühlingswind verloren und im Traum…

Ich schaue auf die blauen Höhn,
die kühn wie Vorzeitbauten stehn.
Ich lausche auf den Vogelsang,
in meinen Adern steigt ein Drang!
Ich schaue auf den Horizont,
von dem mir meine Hoffnung kommt.

Ich steh’ im Felde wie der Lindenbaum,
in Frühlingsnacht verloren und im Traum…

Ich schaue auf die Stadt im Tal
mit Erdensternen ohne Zahl.
In meinen Adern steigt der Saft,
ich streck’ mich mit versteckter Kraft!
Bevor noch süß die Linde blüht,
blüht früh und süß der Linde Lied.

Christina Egan © 2012

—

The mountain range on the horizon is the Rhön and the city in the valley is Fulda, Germany. There are more lines to this poem to make a song of it: part wistful and part hopeful, part heavy-hearted and part light-hearted!

The phrase ‘Town in the valley’ is echoed in the poem of the same name, Stadt im Tal.

April Rules the Land

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

April Rules the Land
(April haiku)

April rules the land,
leaden and golden in turns,
wayward as we are.

*

Oxford Street, busy,
a splintered rainbow, patterns,
shaken and broken.

*

The white narcissus 
sings with a voice as sweet as
her brother blackbird.

Christina Egan © 2000

—

The last haiku originally referred to ‘the ivory rose’, although in England, outdoor roses do not blossom yet in April. When I changed the wording to ‘the white narcissus’ to link it to the season and month, I did not know that the flower’s official name is Narcissus poeticus, or Poet’s Narcissus!

The ivory rose
sings with a voice as sweet as
her brother blackbird.

In Marrakesch (Einst fiel ein Regenbogen)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

In Marrakesch

Einst fiel ein Regenbogen auf die Wüste
zersplitterte in funkelnde Oasen
in Perlen Spiegel abertausend Tücher
in Brunnen Palmen abertausend Rosen

Zum Regenbogen wird der Horizont
zum schwarzen Drachenkamm das Hochgebirg
und über kühnen Türmen hängt der Mond
wenn Dunkelheit das Mauerrund umwirbt

Und immer Hupen Räder Rufen Reden
Laternen Tänzerinnen wie zum Fest
Dies ist die Stadt wo jede Nacht das Leben
ein Feuerwerk ist: Dies ist Marrakesch!

Christina Egan © 2012

—

There is a longer version of this poem, as lyrics for a love song, for once a happy one…

This text may work in a translation software. You can read an English poem about Marrakesh at Winter Sunrise in Morocco.Vast square by night, illuminated by lamps in market stalls, with the sunset along the horizon and a massive minaret showing. The Square of the Dead is incidentally the most lively place on the planet. You must visit it after dusk to get the full experience. Nothing prepares you for Marrakesh!

Photograph: Square of the Dead, Marrakesh, Morocco. Christina Egan © 2012

Am Rad der Weltgeschichte

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Ich möcht am Rad der Weltgeschichte stehn

Ich möcht am Rad der Weltgeschichte stehn
Und eine Nacht beharrlich rückwärts drehn
Das Telefon zerfällt in deiner Hand
Der Flachbildschirm entgleitet deiner Wand
Das Internet verweht wie bunter Rauch
Die Rapmusik verebbt im Morgenhauch
Durchs Weltall stürzen Sonden zu uns her
Die schwarze Fahne rutscht vom Schießgewehr
Palmyra schüttelt sich aus Schutt und Sand
Manhattans Splitter fügen sich zum Band

Und wenn die Mauer aus dem Staube steigt
Dann halt ich an – und die Geschichte schweigt

Dann geh ich aus und such und finde dich
Und nichts und niemand hält und hindert mich

Der Rest darf weiterrasseln wie zuvor
Die Mauer stürzt es platzt das Wüstentor
Die rote Fahne sinkt die schwarze steigt
Und Pluto wird gefilmt und Mars erreicht
Das Internet wird um die Welt gespannt
Der Bildschirm schrumpft in deine hohle Hand
Doch mitten in des Lebens Wirbelsturm
Stehn du und ich wie jener Doppelturm

Zweitausendfünfzehn schrieb ich dir dies Lied
Denn ich bin müde und die Zeit entflieht

Christina Egan © 2015

Dense layers of rusty gearwheels.The narrator imagines that he or she can turn back the wheel of history.

Tiny hand-held telephones, huge television screens, and the whole internet dissolve; one after the other, the Arch of Palmyra, the Twin Towers, and the Berlin Wall rise from the debris.

Then the person stops history to find the beloved one this time round and live a new life together, while everything else rolls on as before: the monuments fall, the internet rises, till we arrive back in 2015.

These lines could be developed into a rock song. I imagine hard music which grows more intense until it stops when history stops!

Rusty gear wheels. Photograph by susannp4 (Susann Mielke).

February Sparks

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

February Sparks
(February Haiku)

Grey on grey the street…
Lightning strikes – the sun reflected
in a windscreen.

*

Stalks thrusting upwards
like spears with golden points:
armies of daffodils.

*

The crocus carpet
is being woven for us
by day and by night.

Christina Egan © 2014 

—

I wrote these haiku, and am posting them, at the hardest time of the year: when cold and darkness have used up our reserves and spring has not arrived yet. However, bright signals of light and life surround us!

Winter Views from the Bus

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Winter Views from the Bus

*

Pink watering cans
lying flat in the drizzle,
dreaming undisturbed.

*

The yellow front door
in the long row of houses:
It stands out. It smiles.

*

The moon, veiled in mist,
floats in the darkness above
the bright white clockface.

*

Christina Egan © 2012

—

I was looking at the clocks of St Pancras Station at
King’s Cross, but you could equally observe Big Ben.

There is no ‘London fog’ any more since coal fires were
outlawed — yet there are still a lot of mist and fumes…

In northern countries, there is very little colour in winter,
so you need to look out for splinters of colour and rejoice!

A Faint Rainbow (Christmas Card)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

A Faint Rainbow
(Christmas Card)

A faint rainbow maybe,
draped across a frozen market,
a filigree tree in the foreground,Old Dutch painting: lively scene of skaters between barren trees, steep gables and a pink manor house
some leisurely loops of skaters,
cloaked figures arranged like mute music –
that’ll do for a Christmas poem.

Good that my second-hand thoughts
and my second-rate verse
are still better than any in town
and almost as good as mulled wine…
And good that my real-life love
turns every single day into Christmas!

Christina Egan © 2012

These lines were inspired by this round painting :
A Winter Scene with Skaters near a Castle, ca. 1608-09,
by Hendrick Avercamp. — © National Gallery, London

Fresh & Bright

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Fresh & Bright

My brain’s a tube called Fresh & Bright
which squeezes out, in green and white,
a train of thought for your delight
and your enlightenment alike.

My mouth releases bite by bite
its philosophic fluoride
to stimulate your fancy’s flight:
Take one by day and one by night.

Christina Egan © 2015

Epithalamium (A Hundred Snowflakes)

~ Christina Egan ~ Leave a comment

Epithalamium

A hundred snowflakes melting in your hair,
and every one a different ornament;
a hundred swallows weaving in the air,
each on its own encrypted message bent;
a thousand roses, beauty pure and bare,
each goblet filled with subtly varied scent;
a thousand leaves consumed in festive flare,
each spelling out its special testament…
So how much more are you – a human face –
unheard-of and unequalled in your blend?
I chose you from a thousand for your grace,
fulfilling and surpassing what I dreamt.
So by your side I take today my place,
while unnamed blessings blossom and descend.

Christina Egan © 2014

—

An epithalamium is a wedding song; a Continental sonnet
has 8 + 6 lines. Here, the first eight lines present images
from the four seasons; the last six lines state that humans are
more complex and individual than any natural phenomenon.

Some German poems on the uniqueness of each person can be
found at Einer von Millionen and Hieroglyphe.