Hinweisschilder

Hinweisschilder

I.

Dies Gedicht hat keine Bilder,
denn die Welt ist ein Gedicht!
Überall sind Hinweisschilder,
überall Scheinwerferlicht!

Doch wir tappen durch die Tage,
rumpeln, rempeln, fallen hin.
Sehn wir je, dann ohne Farbe,
ohne Muster, ohne Sinn.

II.

Manches wird herbeigeschafft,
anderes herbeigeschaffen.
Manches wird herangerafft,
anderes herangelassen.

Manches wird herbeigeredet,
anderes herbeigeschrieben,
manches auch herbeigebetet
oder gar herbeigeschwiegen.

Christina Egan ©2024

You may wonder why I label philosophical musings “Religion” or why my poems on “Religion” do not refer more to a certain creed. Yet for me personally, there is no philosophy without religion. God is present everywhere, whether we feel it or not, and our life is a search for God, whether we know it or not.

As regards Christianity, my poetry is very much inspired by the Scriptures, the hymns, the liturgy, the imagery. I probably owe more to Martin Luther than to any other writer. All German speakers do. It also seems to me that in this secular society, I would most put people off by mentioning that I am a Catholic.

speaking through a mask / masked ball

The poem speaking through a mask was inspired by photographs in the Tottenham Community Press and published by the same newspaper in TCP Issue 43, February 2021. It continues as the Haringey Community Press.

Tottenham is full of art in in very bright colours: graffiti on walls, mosaics on houses, paintings on roll-shutters of shops…

Image: Red camera eye of HAL 9000 (from ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’).
Julian Mendez, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.

Lautlose Rede

Lautlose Rede

Kurven von Tinte und Ketten von Lettern,
Wörter und Worte wie bunte Girlanden
steigen und ziehn über Erde und Meer…
Ketten von Lettern, die leuchten und flattern,
bunte Girlanden, die kreisen und landen,
zaubern dir lautlose Rede her…

Es ist bloß Papier, es sind bloß Gedanken,
doch bringen sie Herzen und Häuser ins Wanken
und fallen gleich Samen in wartenden Sand.
Was ist das Geheimnis der Blätter, der Briefe?
Als ob eine Seele die andere riefe…
Als ob ein Geist den andern entflammt!

Christina Egan ©2023

Three letters on colourful paper, with a real flower matching the ones pictured.

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

Schlüsselwörter

Schlüsselwörter

I.

Himmelstreppenbauten

Die Kunst ist groß mit ihren Himmelstreppenbauten
und größer die Musik mit unerhörten Lauten;
gewebt aus weißen Daunen schwebt das Wort vorbei
und bleibt, als ob’s ein Bild aus schwerer Bronze sei.
Das Leben aber ist allein der Born des Lebens,
und ohne Liebe sinnt und schafft der Mensch vergebens.

Three letters on colourful paper, with a real flower matching the ones pictured.

II.

Schmaler Strahlenpfad

Aufflackert hier und dort ein schmaler Strahlenpfad
Gebet ist auch Geschehen; auch ein Gruß ist Tat.
O wenn die Erdenaugen es nur schauen könnten
wie sich Geschwister fraglos zueinanderwenden!
Der Engel Botenflug ist schattenlos und schnell,
doch auch der Menschen Bruderherz ein Gnadenquell.

Initial of mediaeval manuscript, filled with monks and nuns singing from such a missal on a lectern above them; in gold and bright red, blue and green

III.

Sommerabendblau

Ein sommerabendblaues Wort ist uns geschenkt,
ein sommermorgengoldnes gleich darangehängt,
die unsre Wildnis oder Wüste fern umsäumen
und mehr an Kraft enthalten, als wir uns erträumen:
Vertrauen in Bedrängnis ist uns zugeteilt
und Hoffnung auf den Himmel, der die Erde heilt.

Christina Egan © 2019


Three philosophical poems in praise of:
life and love (which can surpass art);
greeting and prayer (which can surpass deeds);
trust and hope (which can surpass strength).

Written for a community of prayer
affiliated to a Benedictine convent 
(Abtei Münsterschwarzach).


Photograph of letters: Christina Egan © 2020.
Photograph of mediaeval manuscript by Sailko
(own work) via Wikimedia Commons (
CC BY-SA 3.0). 

Silent Roads

Silent Roads
(Pandemic)

limpid morning
liquid noon
falling stars and
swelling moon

roaming foxes
flitting bats
passing faces
passing steps

Red houseboats amongst lush trees and blossoming meadows.real colours
newborn light
flowing hours
breathing tide

sweeping herons
floating boats
swelling meadows
silent roads

real flavour
real sound
real labour
on the ground

nimble hands and
muddy boots
curling vines and
twisting roots

real treasures
on your spade
real colours
on your plate

Tall tomb with urn on top, tilting, on old cemetery.real paper
flowing ink
time to wake and
time to think

time to sleep and
time to slow
time to weep and
time to grow

time to rise and
to rejoice
time to hoist your
real voice

Christina Egan © 2020


While London closed down to protect itself from the 2020 coronavirus, I was cut off from my job and from the internet for a while. (This blog ran on as pre-scheduled.)

I was very fortunate to spend many hours outdoors, working in my garden or walking under the countless trees and along the hidden rivers of London, and through the suburban roads, cleared at last of traffic and crowds. Spring brought splendid sunshine, as if it were already high summer.

There was time. There was air. There was life. For many who were not ill or caring for those who were ill, this must have been one of the best times of their life.


Tottenham Marshes / Tottenham Cemetery. Photographs: Christina Egan © 2020.

The Palms and the Poet

The Palms and the Poet

Short sturdy palm-trees, their leaves being blown to one side by a strong wind; blue sky, bright lawn.The palm-trees where the poet lingers
stretch out a thousand feathery fingers
and offer sweetest dates.
The shoulder-high ones’ shining tresses
give to the passing knight caresses,
the tall ones, sprinkled shades.

They weave their silken wings together
to shield him from the weighing weather
and point him to the wells.
He seems to smile, but does not notice
the leaves nor fruits, for in his throat is
a spring of syllables.

Christina Egan © 2005

Pond with weeping willow reflected and white goose crossing.

 

Huge Harp

The weeping willow
is smiling in the sunshine,
dancing in the wind.
You sit by the pond beneath,
as if inside a huge harp.

Christina Egan © 2017

The tanka’s image of the poet beside a large harp or lyre, as if he were sitting inside, was inspired by stained-glass windows or illuminated manuscripts showing King David performing the psalms he is said to have composed.

Photographs: Christina Egan © 2014 / © 2018.

Gifts

Gifts

My love, I’d so much love to give you a gift:
a kite with the face of a friendly dragon,
a goblet carved from a coconut shell,
a rocking-chair on a scarlet rug,
a house by a little lake,
a little lake,
a life –

But I have none of these things to give away:
only smiles slotted through half-open doors,
kisses smuggled on underground trains,
words typed on a cluttered screen…
only these worthless,
priceless
words.

Christina Egan © 2008


You can find a poem shaped like a spinning top at Toys / Baskets / Bowls,
one shaped (and tinted) like a bush at By the Brittle Brown Fence,
and one shaped (and tinted) like a balloon at Red Balloon!