© 2008 engelsstaub
Would you new word for me define,
then understand me better still,
Or speak a tongue of your design?
Let me speak then what I will.
Let me speak yet that I must,
yes let me think as sure I ought,
lest my tongue be one of dust,
and every word I say be naught.
I will to live my ghosts among,
only their words I want to hear,
as like an old song yet unsung,
of blessed laughter in my ear.
They speak of past and better day,
and sing of joy when way we find,
I will my ghosts with me to stay,
and mourn for those we left behind.
Those so many come and gone,
my ghosts of past shall ever be,
to be seen in time as long,
or likely will I never see.
And as so little I have taken,
but nothing may I ever give,
In so much I’ve been mistaken,
and with my ghosts I will to live.
December 27, 2008. General Poetry. 1 Comment.
© 2008 engelsstaub
Amidst the season’s change in stride,
from this weather some can not hide,
and from these storms no shelter found,
so helplessly to their lives are bound.
Of dreams and memory now far away,
from places seen some can not stay,
of time now past in which they yearn,
but for their lives may never return.
In age and passing time’s swift flight,
of those so loved shall lose their sight,
no blessing nor comfort in time bygone,
only thirst unquenched of wells they’ve drawn.
Yet as their existence is drawn to close,
may so little be lost to such as those,
a stone inscribed shall to no other matter,
nor will be nourished of a new rain’s patter.
December 27, 2008. General Poetry. No Comments.
© 2008 engelsstaub
Unto life one bears confusion,
then wonder blankets what chaos wrought,
the comfort there of warm seclusion,
dreaming awake in progress of naught.
Enveloping time does sleep of day,
passes one by in word and thought,
no retrieval had nights awake we lay,
reprieve nor respite can there be sought.
A laughing resounds but in one’s head,
echoes’ resonation betray their mirth,
the words of Living though now long dead,
and whispers of those who’ve not seen birth.
An appreciation for life in its worldly state,
yet ever dreaming of another than earth,
listen of those voices past or born to late,
a retreat from this time even in its dearth.
December 27, 2008. General Poetry. No Comments.
© 2008 engelsstaub
A Life begins urequested,
amidst the water within a womb,
and ends so ever unexpected,
of dust and ash within a tomb.
What we make of time we borrow,
what starts as life of blood and bone,
of growth and change of joy and sorrow,
and ends our name inscribed on stone.
That name once given upon life anew,
spoken forth by Mother in single breath,
follows from thence in nights and through
days and weeks and years to death.
Significant are the names we’re called by,
because they’re ours through life from birth,
a name not chosen to which we reply,
until laid to rest within the Earth.
May 5, 2008. General Poetry. 3 Comments.
© 2008 engelsstaub
In sleep of life I ever dream
of fuller life and truer days
in greater rhyme
a better time
and life relived in newer ways.
Within a dream I somehow seem
as greater man in time not past
alive reborn
a life not shorn
at once of that I want to last.
In rest be loved as yet do I
my hope therein is not denied
one so missed
does there exist
and not one so preoccupied.
In death as sleep I yearn to lie
and dream eternal life replaced
to never partake
nor ever awake
but live anew in death embraced.
May 5, 2008. General Poetry. 1 Comment.
© 2008 engelsstaub
Ich war am 18.März 1974 geboren.
Ich kann meine Kindheit nicht zurück haben.
Es war nur einen Augenblick in meinem Leben.
Sag mir, warum ist das so?
Ich weiß noch nicht wer ich bin!
Und die Zeit fliegt vorbei…
…bis zum Tod.
May 5, 2008. General Poetry. No Comments.
© 2008 engelsstaub
Into a dream not so profound,
I lead you now without a sound,
I bid you stop and listen now,
of you and me and peace somehow.
Move yet forward I hope you see,
in greater life of you and me,
as like a breath that’s not yet taken,
or eternal sleep to not awaken.
When dreams were shattered to the last,
new life can grow on that what’s past,
if this one hope is given chance,
removed from time and circumstance.
Into a world not here confined,
can all that hurt be left behind,
I hope your coming is not of wait,
I fear now soon may be too late…
…in dying without, I’ll die within,
and never new hope will then begin,
nor be another dream begotten,
my dream as I will be forgotten.
May 5, 2008. General Poetry. No Comments.
