Regenbogenbotschaft

Tall brilliant rainbow in black clouds over fields and village.

Regenbogenbotschaft

Innen leuchtet rot die Liebe,
dann orangerot die Kraft,
sonnengelb die Heiterkeit,
Hoffnung schimmert erdengrün,
meeresblau verströmt sich Friede,
Weisheit wölbt sich indigo,
Glaube krönt sie violett:
Regenbogen will uns blühn,
will uns eine Zukunft weisen
und die Ewigkeit verheißen!
Schon verhangen, schon vergangen,
doch die Seele bebt noch froh…

Christina Egan ©2020

Title page of calendar: white windmill against blue sky.

This poem, Rainbow Message, is spiritual but not bound to a certain religion. I hope it radiates serenity and confidence, as the rainbow does.

It is published in the calendar, Münsterschwarzacher Bildkalender 2024 (circulation 80.000) with the photo above. (Photograph: Albrecht Fietz via Pixabay.)

For verse from a colourless winter world, see the recent post, A Speck in the Dark, where a few flashes of colour and light provide the magic of beauty and hope.

descending (Sankt Andreas)

descending

from the rainbow-crossed twilight
down the narrow winding stairs
to the star-studded nightfall

from the church
to the crypt

from windows
to candles

descending far back in time
back into the sheltering earth
onto the threshold of heaven

from quiet
to silence

from proximity
to presence

the vaulted stairway awaits you
at the back of the ancient church
and hidden in your own heart

Christina Egan © 2018

(Sankt Andreas, Cologne)

Traces of colour on the floor from church windows: blurred bright patches.

This poem is best read very slowly, as if you were indeed walking down an ancient staircase at the back of a silent church…

Around the world-famous Cathedral, the twelve Romanesque churches of Cologne outdo each other in age, size, and beauty!

For German verse inspired by the mediaeval churches of Cologne, see Zugewogenpoem on faith and destiny published in a previous edition of the Münsterschwarzacher Bildkalender.


Photograph by 3268zauber: Traces of colour from church windows on the floor in Baden-Baden, Germany.

Notnormal

Notnormal

Lightningwhite
vast rib vaults
suspended
in brilliantblue
and a rainbow frame
dazzling and doubling and
tripling
around Broadwater Farm.

Large deep-yellow flower shaped like a star with five points.Four feet tracing
pavements pathways
the brooks underground
the trains underground
with the windinyourhair
and the sunonyourskin.

Fivefoldflame flowers
dancing for joy
rolling up into fruit
while ivory butterflies
and bumblebees feed
on lavender forests.

Time to cook
food and eat
food
Time to talk
into a telephone
time to talk
Orange soup in blue bowl on placemat striped orange and blue.talkandlisten
Timetogether.

All this is not normal.

All this is mental
detrimental
to your output
to your outfit
on all platforms
detrimental
to your attitudes
to your platitudes
diametrical
to the narrative.

This is the new
Notnormal.
This must stop
fullstop.

Kestrel egg, quite round, buff and dappled.Otherwise
more stained statues will fall
and heads of heads will roll
and skyscrapers skygraters
surveying the Thames
will be kestrels’ apartments
their amenities reclaimed
by the reeds and the weeds
by the swans and the swifts
by the songs in the dusk
and the
silence
under the crystal crescent.

Christina Egan © 2020

Hoping for a revolution in the suspended time of the C-19 pandemic…

Under the lockdown, the air had become so clear that on May 1st, 2020, I did see a triple rainbow around the apartment blocks of Broadwater Farm.

For more thoughts from the first phase of the pandemic in London in spring 2020, see Hidden Rivers / Verborgne Flüsse.

Courgette flower / Carrot soup. Photographs: Christina Egan © 2020. — Kestrel egg at the Muséum de Toulouse. Photograph by Didier Descouens via Wikimedia. Copyright: CC BY-SA 3.0.

your face of snow

your face of snow 

your face of snow
your eyes of ice
will blur and melt
with sweet surprise
your cheeks of dawn
of smooth white stone
will blush and throb
with flames unknown

your lips of pearl
encasing dreams
will blink and burst
with bright new beams

your face of snow
your eyes of ice
will bloom and burn
a rainbow’s rise

Christina Egan © 2004

 

A story where nothing ever happened

The greeting in your eyes, radiant.
The answer in your eyes, immediate.
The longing in your eyes, innocent.
The promise in your eyes, infinite.

Christina Egan © 2004

 

Glass flask by Eugenes, found in Syria, 3rd c. AD.
Photograph: © The Trustees of the British Museum.

August (Hell ist mein Herz) / Amseln und Schwalben

August

Hell ist mein Herz
unterm Kornblumenblau
in der Wiege der goldenen Hügel.

Steil steigt es auf
mit dem Schwalbengepfeif,
denn es reiften ihm stämmige Flügel.

Christina Egan © 2010


Written for a wedding anniversary in August.
Midsummer also stands for the middle of life
and for the fullness of life.

The next poem was written in May, when
summer is unfolding with the exultation of
blackbirds and swallows.

Double rainbow above park, with grey sky and sunlit building.

Amseln und Schwalben

Im Saum des bewimpelten Wipfels,
im Dämmer erquickenden Tröpfelns
entfalten die Amseln Voluten
von Flötentönen und Fluten
von Jubel in wechselnden Wind!

Und lauter und lauter schon pfeifen
und höher und höher schon streifen
die Schwalben in schwindende Wolken,
als warte der Morgen schon golden…
Ein Regenbogen erglimmt.

Christina Egan © 2017

Double rainbow in Lund, Sweden. Photograph: Christina Egan © 2017.