Farbe ist Leben / [Colour, Life, Silence]

Shimmering, milky, rosy piece of rock, resembling the sea at sunset.

Inspired by the word cloud Colour, Life, Silence of the 25 English poems I have written over the past months (generated and designed thanks to the Simple Word Cloud Generator).
The word cloud created from this poem, in turn, brought up the corresponding German words, with a number of other words expressing the central term “poem”.
“Erschrieben” is a word I made up for bringing about something by writing, while the regular word “erleben” means experiencing and is passive… or perhaps not!

zugefallen


Playing with the words
“Zufall” (conincidence)
and “zugefallen” (destined).
Is love written in the stars?

See my poem Zugewogen
about longing for love,
happiness, and destiny,
or rather, providence.

A New Poem is Being Born

Purple Wine

Purple Wine

I.

Deep purple and pure is this wine,
the midsummer’s fire condensed,
expanding inside me, immense:
your kiss – you are finally mine.

Large flat flower in white and purple, with long purple stem, small orange fruit, shiny green leaves.

II.

There’s twenty-one words on the paper,
of wine and a night I forgot:
yet flowers and fruits bore my plot,
your kiss sparkles many years later…

Christina Egan © 2005 (I) / 2020 (II)

Photograph: Christina Egan © 2016.

In Starless Night

In sternloser Nacht

In sternloser Nacht
ein Silberfleck auf dem Moos:
verirrtes Fröschlein…
In den Garten, ins Gedicht
und hinaus hüpfen Frösche!

Muddy pond with tadpole amongst aquatic plants.

In the starless night
a silver speck on the moss:
a little lost frog…
In and out of my garden,
of my poems, those frogs hop!

Christina Egan © 2017

Muddy pond with waterlilies amongst greenery.

For another tanka about frogs in honour of Basho, see Waiting for the Frog.

Frog pond. Note the tiny tadpole! Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014.

Window Seat

Window Seat

You beat me to the window seat,
Silhouette of man against tall window with curtains.the secret poets’ nest;
you watched the broad and busy street,
a highway on your quest.

You beat me to the poets’ prize,
without a rhyme or form:
you saw the faces floating by
in the approaching storm,

you caught the litter and the leaves,
the puddles and the birds
and strung them as bizarre bright beads
on your vibrating verse.

Christina Egan © 2019


The poem has its origin in a coffee bar in a busy high street in London. It was published in the Tottenham Community Press (print issue of December 2018).


The elusive poet in a window seat. Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.