poem: between blasts of water

between blasts of water

don’t catch a cold
-just-
catch my drift

okay, well that was on me
just trying to get a good laugh
what clown do I need to beat up
before even thinking about
the guy that always gives me riddles

I just don’t want this anymore
last a man who thinks he’s a pinquin
stabbed at me with an umbrella
then a dude in a weird suit
yelled hasta la vista, baby!
and ran off after he said
I’ll be back

it’s so confusing in here
the clown always asking me
why I am so serious
and I don’t know the answer
because nobody likes me
even my clay dolls ignore my complaints

and I don’t even know why I’m here
the guards are mean so I have to beat them
and then I always end up in here
in this white pillowed room

can someone get me out of here
before I go completely out of my mind

© Maurits Sterkenburg

little announcement concerning the English poems

when I have the time I write also in English, also one big thing is that I have to be in the right mood to do so and it’s not my native language so it is hard sometimes to come up with something new, nonetheless I enjoy writing so please have patience with me and my way of writing, I can tell you that coming Thursday there will be a new one online and I hope you guys like it, if not that’s also fine, anyway let’s get back to writing and I see you soon here

greetings from the Netherlands

poem: still growing

still growing

what….am I….going to do….about it all

sometimes my world’s a mess
going through chaotic and difficult things
at least my mind knows what is best
while having no control over my moodswings
it’ll tell me to take some rest

I know my own kind of darkness – and
I also know my kind of light
it’s like a whole development has been there
so now I have, on it all, more sight
or at least I might

there’s a force of life in my body
there’s also power emitting from my soul
energy is being poured from all around
and all I have to do is to relax and use
whatever I actually need

© Maularia Fist

poem: sometimes

sometimes

sometimes I think about
why I have to live
and why I have to fear
so much love still to give
after my little tear
has left my heart
but I don’t know
where to start
I’m such terrified
my soul has been fried
at the corner in my room
thinking about the moon
why he still got to show
if it still is, mine or his
well there’s no answer to it all
it ain’t written on the wall

© Maularia Fist