Concerning Poetry

Welcome to the core-and heart-center of my work, as I love to see it, or better: that's simply the way it feels. After quite some years of writing short-stories in my mother tongue and eventually collecting a good lot in a self publicated book I turned and took a small path into the woods let's say. Poetry would be it's name, I completely underestimated the vastness of that dense forest and the diversity of its creatures. So the last few years I would not see any edge of it again and would not let go of wandering it for that alluring appeal it evaporates at us and that peculiar workwise it reveals while walking.

It does not say: 'strive hard' but: 'give way'...

It does not recommend to go knocking on doors but to consider 'to be called'

And it once honestly whispered from behind a tree: “You know...if it is work...it just doesn't work!”

 

Not much more shall be said here. Let them do their job and unfold what happens between writer and reader. Oh this wonderful interplay of intuition, emotion and deep imagery. I love the poem for the silence between the words. Some are so shy deer I could cry seeing them appear from behind a thicket. Receiving those sudden moments and translating them into a string of words is such a present to me, I truly dare to say, when I lay down the pen: Yes, I feel most alive!

I praise the legacy and hearts of all the beautiful Poets I had the honor to listen to.

 

Footnote:

(If you find familiar sticks, stones or leaves, no worries...I do not fear a "sounds like" or "reminds me to" anymore...but would eventually be honored 'to be referred to'. There is some false tone in a voice always pledging for uniqueness, and the 'never before created' . So I would prefer to be seen as a craftsman, an artisan rather than artist. Working in the tradition of achieved ones would thus be some humble life-work...baking bread in the spirit that it is not about inventing it but that some nurturing good fresh bread is continously needed to feed the people.)