POETRY

Stuff I think about

This is not reaching for the stars. More like a rummage around common themes and observations. Possibly emotional reactions to difficult events. Sometimes I don’t even know what poetry is. I often find it boring. Many times I haven’t finished reading a poem. I don’t have the patience to try and understand it or lack the passion to figure it out. And sometimes I don’t like the way things are expressed.

 

So the gist is, never feel bad when you don’t finish reading a poem. Or if you don’t even want to start it. It’s fine. Yawn.

Sorrowbye

I am not good

at the goodbye.

 

I am not suited

to lose a moment

or a person

and be okay with it.

 

Maybe I am better

at the badbye.

 

That’s where you throw

a tantrum

 

and say the things

you feel.

 

Say ‘I don’t want

you to go

 

now

or ever

or anywhere.

 

Where will you go?

 

Stay here

with me,

today,

tomorrow.’

 

So no goodbye.

No easybye.

 

It’s badbye

and sorrowbye

from me.

 

Even now

as I gracefully

take my hat

 

to say a crybye

to you

 

I cannot help

but feel

distraught.

 

As you are wonderful

and special

 

and I may never

see you again.

 

You know I’m waving

and shedding a tear

as I write.

 

Sadbye to you.

I shall have my memory.

© Vroni Holzmann

The Bookshop

 

I went to a bookshop.

Cosy, lovely, affectionate bookshop.

I ran home with my book.

Once in my room I opened it.

The words swirled all around me

they took me on a journey.

Letters filled my head

and showed me a different world.

A travel from bookshop to fantasy.

And then dinner.

© Vroni Holzmann

What do you want?

 

What do you want?

Honestly.

Tell me.

 

Is it love?

Is it friendship?

Is it a house?

 

Is it a job?

Is it a pet?

Is it money?

 

Is it nice food?

Is it good entertainment?

Is it purpose?

 

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

 

I know what you want.

I know what your

end dream is.

 

I know what would

rock your boat

from here to eternity.

 

You want companionship.

You want someone to walk with you.

Someone to walk a part of life with you.

 

And this is all you want.

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor on 3/10/2020: Today is Bookshop Day

For this occasion I wrote this little poem and why not.

Cooking

 

The tricky thing

about food

is not the cooking

 

but to make it

so it’s ready

at the same time.

 

I can prepare the most

amazing and delicious

five-course meal for you.

 

Not a problem at all.

Give me several days,

And I’ll have bits and bobs

 

ready to eat

every once in a while

for you to enjoy.

 

Yum.

 

What?

You want to eat it all

at the same time?!?

 

You will need to find

another house

with another cook

 

in it.

© Vroni Holzmann

The Roaring Birds

 

My head, I think it is about

to split in two, the pain!

I double over, I feel sick,

the throbbing is insane!

 

A roaring noise is killing me

it’s coming from out there

the birds are shrieking mercilessly

it’s clear they do not care!

 

They’re not my only enemy,

now sunlight’s on attack!

Some rays can make it through to me

and shatter me to fuck.

 

The beer, the wine, the rum, the schnapps,

who gave me all that gin?

It’s all a hazy memory.

I pay now for my sin.

 

I swear I’ll never drink again

but please, oh birds, your cries

they penetrate my brain so fierce,

I whimper little sighs.

 

I hate those screaming birds so much

they mock me with their song.

Whoever called them feathery friends

was clearly very wrong.

 

They’re nasty little shrieky things

I can’t forgive them yet.

Add insult to my injury!

You teach me much regret!

Oh alcohol, you nasty beast,

hear what I have to say.

You will not pass my lips again!

Not ever for today!

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor on 18/8/2020: Today is Bad Poetry Day 🙂

In honour of this beautiful occasion I put pen to paper  and wrote a poem slagging off birds for singing. It had to be done and this was my best chance. I hate them birds when I'm hungover.

A letter to my American friend

 

Dear Rachel,

I hope to catch you alive

 

and that the nasty covidness

hasn’t made you dead yet.

 

Your President!

My Prime Minister!

 

I know it’s not a race

but they seem to compete.

 

Who is more incompetent?

Who is more callous?            

 

And why?

 

I mean, to run for

top office,

 

sure, you want to have a hunger for power,

 

but one would think

you’d want to be seen as

 

decent, too.

Not those two.

 

They revel

in their own nastiness,

 

they rejoice in it

and believe they are gods.

 

It is a bizarre

show that plays out

 

before our very eyes

and yet, we can’t

 

believe it.

 

The White House

and Downing Street

 

have become

Houses of Horror.

 

I recoil

every time

 

I see the faces of

those nasty men

 

on the news,

and they are always

 

bad news.

 

Who tells more lies,

yours or mine?

 

They are both killers,

murderers by now.

 

Why doesn’t someone

stop them

 

and put them in jail?

In handcuffs

 

and with their tails

between their legs

 

would be appropriate

for those two evils

 

in the world;

 

not the Oval Office

or No 10 Downing Street.

 

And if they were

kicked out from their

 

high offices

and leading positions

 

today

 

it would not be

soon enough.

 

The damage is done,

much good was undone.

 

One harms America

the other not just

 

Great Britain

but the whole of

 

Europe.

So no-one wins

 

and everyone loses.

Was this the game

we played?

It sure was the game

 

we lost.

 

Dear friend.

My apologies.

 

I have been

lacking a sense of

 

humour.

Combined with a lack of

 

optimism

this letter got a bit

 

dreary.

 

Now, let me fix this

and tell you a joke.

 

An orange became

President

 

and a little orange

was his best friend.

 

Where was I going with this?

Who is the banana?

 

Mr T and Mr J

are the oranges

 

and we are the bananas.

Stupid bananas

 

who voted for such

nasty oranges.

 

My raven will bring you

this message at once.

 

Send him back to me

with greetings and

 

without a virus fever

and we’ll make this world

 

a better place.

Yours truly,

a lost one.

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor: This letter was written for my friend Rachel who I met just before the corona lockdown. She flew back to America, picking up covid on the way. Luckily she survived the virus and we have kept in touch ever since, enjoying whisky and wine in our skype pub, Flinn's Folly.

Three Tiny Daisies

 

Today

I came home

with three daisies.

 

I picked them

after sitting in the grass

reading a book.

 

When I came home

I wanted to put the wee flowers

in a little vase.

 

I searched but I couldn’t find

a single vase

that was miniscule enough

 

for these tiny flowers.

Even a schnapps glass

was too big.

 

My little flowers

drowned in it

as if in an ocean.

 

I quickly

fished them

back out.

 

Drowned little daisies

is something I would regret

for a long time.

 

They looked a little sad

but they will be okay

I hope.

 

Tomorrow first thing

I’ll go and buy a vase

small enough

 

for tiny flowers.

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor: True story : )

 

Mr Bier

 

Mr Bier!

Will you fix my feet?

 

My name is Ilse

and my feet hold me up.

 

And they carry me around.

I can even dance on them a little.

 

Mr Bier!

You are so easy-going,

 

you don’t even mind

how you take your tea.

 

Lots of milk,

no milk,

 

you don’t mind.

You really don’t mind?

 

But we all mind!

You say:

 

I’ll have it the way

you have it, thanks.

 

That’s lovely.

Mr Bier!

 

Why do you know so much about life?

Why do you respect old ladies

 

with their sore feet?

Postscript:

 

Which tea, Mr. Bier?

Any tea, you say.

 

Any tea is fine.

That’s insane!

 

Mr Bier!

My feet!!!

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor: Should this go in the silly poetry section at the bottom? Or is it serious and philosophical deep inside, but just looks silly? Like an elephant with a mouse soul?

The Virus

 

The virus is a beast,

an unknown scary monster.

 

It finds your weakest spot

and attacks it relentlessly.

 

Ouch.

© Vroni Holzmann

Amateur

 

I don’t understand

the word amateur.

 

Is it to do with money

that’s not changing hands

 

or skills

that aren’t honed?

 

Does it mean

if someone is amazing

 

at a particular thing,

but doesn’t get paid,

 

that he’s just a fucking amateur?

 

Or does it describe

the person who is

 

shit at a task,

paid or not?

 

Let’s say I’m a paramedic

and I get called to an emergency

 

and I get paid for that

after years of medical training.

 

So let’s say I inject the wrong drug

into the artery instead of the vein

 

and let’s say that person then

shuffles off this mortal coil.

 

Do they think,

just before they go,

 

fucking amateur!

Is this their last thought?

 

Or do they think,

she works as a paramedic and gets paid,

 

so she can’t be an amateur.

She’s clearly a professional

 

but obviously,

at least where it concerns me,

 

totally shit at her job!

 

Is this what they think???

Can someone explain this to me?

 

Please?!?

© Vroni Holzmann

Cleaning Lady

 

Have you ever

thought about

the cleaning lady?

 

Do you know

that the cleaning lady

is as important as you?

 

Do you think it is a

charitable act

to think about

 

the cleaning lady?

Those considered

the lowest jobs

 

are actually

so crucial.

No-one deserves

 

more respect

than those who deal

with your rubbish,

 

clean your house or work space,

and your stinky toilet.

You feel good about yourself

 

because someone

is keeping your life

nice and clean.

 

Fuck you

for never

thinking about them.

 

For taking them for granted

and thinking it is

in any way justified

 

that you don’t bend down

and wipe your toilet seat

and then kneel

 

to get behind the toilet

where a bit of fluff

has collected sneakily

 

in the corner.

© Vroni Holzmann

Gardening

 

The sun is shining,

there’s a gentle breeze,

 

I’m gonna do some gardening.

 

I hate gardening!

But not today!

 

Why hate it?

It’s so much work.

 

I have to get all the stuff out.

Then I have to plug the lawnmower in.

 

For this I have to find three extensions

and lead them out of the kitchen window.

 

What a hassle!

 

And my secateurs are blunt!

And my rake is missing.

 

Wait! I never had a rake.

I just think, every single time,

 

that I need to get a rake.

But I never get one.

 

I don’t really

deal with my garden much.

 

But I like to look at it

from my kitchen window.

 

Not today!

Today it’s all

 

plug in and mow and

prune and make wonderful.

 

Hurray!

© Vroni Holzmann

Life

 

Life is a deadline

What haven’t you done yet?

Quick, do it now.

 

And then there sits a man

with all the time in the world.

He just sits there.

 

But you need to go and

shop and cook and clean

and work and go to work

 

and work from home.

And prepare for work

and then this job isn’t good enough.

 

Now you have a job interview

and then you are scared, did I get it?

Yes! You got the job.

 

Now you get more money.

And you have to work

and to clean and to shop.

 

You don’t cook anymore

you get a ready meal.

Yum!

 

And you rush past this man,

he just sits there.

Can he do that?

 

Just sit there?

It reminds you of a life

when rushing around

 

was not filling up

a hundred percent

of your time.

 

He sits there

and sometimes he looks grumpy

and other times he smiles.

 

Can you have good and bad days

when you just sit there?

Days you like and days you hate?

 

Shouldn’t that be about

what you have achieved

that day?

 

What does he achieve?

Is he a symbol?

A reminder for the rest of the world?

 

Why does he just sit there?

Does it mean that I could just sit there?

But what about my work?

 

I am so important! Yes, I am.

I lead a team.

I tell them what to do.

 

Without me, with me just

sitting on a bench,

what would my team do?

 

They can’t all just

sit on a bench.

There wouldn’t be enough benches.

© Vroni Holzmann

Super Hero

 

The time has come.

You are the greatest!

 

You always knew this,

deep in your heart.

 

But now you can prove

once and for all

 

how important and clever

you really are.

 

Today I will make you

a super hero.

 

You can actually

save lives! Hurray!!!

 

An evil virus is threatening

the whole world!

 

But you will keep them all

safe!

 

You will make sure

not to spread it

 

and you will,

for once in your life,

 

be a real super hero!

Yes!!! You did it!

 

To save a life

you adhere to the rules

 

that you know will prevent

the spread of the enemy!

 

You ignore the authorities

and make sure the disease

 

doesn’t scatter itself around

on your watch!

 

Do what all the super heroes do

in this kind of situation.

 

Stay home.

Wash hands.

 

Wear masks (for real,

like a super hero!).

 

Now you have saved a granny

from certain death!!

 

You have proven that

the super powers

 

you knew you had

(but it was a secret)

 

could turn you into

Social-Distance Super Hero!

 

Yes, there may be some other heroes, too.

Okay, roughly several million,

 

but you have still saved that granny!

No-one can take that away from you.

 

And I will give you a medal

for your bravery.

 

Months of staying in

and wearing masks to shops

 

and not even meeting friends

is not for the fainthearted.

 

Your courage in defending

the vulnerable from

 

the spread of the disease

deserves the Medal

 

of Services to Society!

And a big thank you

 

from the whole world.

You did great!

 

I am so proud of you.

So proud.

© Vroni Holzmann

European Radio

 

I have introduced

German radio

 

to my kitchen.

Now my daughter feels

 

like she’s on

holiday.

 

I bought this little

internet radio

 

and set up

two Bavarian stations.

 

The same stations

that we listen to

 

when we’re in Germany

visiting Nana.

 

There’s no more visiting Nana

since a little virus

 

has made a big show

of terrorising people.

 

It really is a very small thing,

a tiny terrorist.

 

It kills people

and maims them.

 

What an arsehole.

 

Anyways, the radio.

It plays the songs

 

they consider hip

right now over there.

 

A lot of eighties stuff

and some Ed Sheeran and Adele.

 

They are so popular!

But I don’t really dig

 

their yodelling.

 

However, I do love

New German Wave.

 

They tell us the news

on the hour.

 

And after the news

the weather forecast.

 

It is generally more accurate

than the Scottish one.

 

But sadly for the wrong country.

 

I sometimes forget about this

and look out of the window puzzled.

 

Then I remember; thunderstorms in Bavaria

and sunshine in Scotland.

 

My little radio

brings Europe

 

so close.

My daughter feels

 

like it’s a holiday

when she hears their jingles.

 

Well-known and familiar sounds

from our travels

 

to see Nana.

Who is now so far away.

 

With a tiny virus

between us.

© Vroni Holzmann

Praying

 

Why do people pray?

I think they pray

to make themselves small

 

in a good way.

 

They turn themselves

into children

looking for guidance.

 

And they practise

to be humble

every day.

 

Praying is a

meditation

on our place

 

in life.

 

The aim is

to make yourself

less important

 

and listen

to a higher

power.

 

We ask that power

to take over

and a huge

 

weight

 

is lifted from

our shoulders.

 

It is a shame

that I can’t pray.

It just never worked

 

for me.

 

I am not

humble enough.

 

And also,

I can’t believe,

even for five minutes,

 

that there is a

higher power

out there.

 

For me,

it’s just little me,

and wagon loads of people

 

in this world.

 

But no gods

or spirits

to ask for advice

 

and pray to.

 

I am a little

sad

about that.

 

But it’s fine.

© Vroni Holzmann

The Highest Statue

 

A friend from Grenada

once said to me

 

as we were driving by

St Andrew Square in Edinburgh.

 

Did you know, she said,

what this man up there did,

 

up high above,

can you see him?

 

I said, well, he’s really far away,

he’s so high above,

 

how high is this statue?

Was he a god?

 

She continued, he was

a very bad man,

 

he fought for slavery

for a very long time.

 

I said, for slavery, not against?

She explained:

 

He single-handedly

inserted a clause

 

to delay the abolition

of slavery.

 

He managed to

suppress their fight

 

for another ten years!

 

I thought, wow, ten years,

that’s a long time

 

for slavery

to needlessly continue.

 

How sad, I thought.

This statue should

 

come down,

is what I thought

 

that day.

And every day since.

 

But now, at last,

the heads of statues

 

 begin to roll.

The statues being

 

smashed and toppled.

The bad men

 

have their day

in the high court of

 

humanity

and are found guilty

 

of terrible assaults

on human rights.

 

But today I also

found out to my

 

sorrow

 

that the slaves

waiting for their freedom

 

were so many.

Over sixty thousand souls

 

were not freed

for another decade.

 

And the statue

this damn statue

 

sits so high,

so very high!

 

Forty two meters

is how high this man

 

got to sit

above all people.

 

Take him down

and see him for

 

who he really was.

He was a bad man

 

his crimes judged

late, too late.

 

But better now than never

to get rid of the stench

 

of good old-fashioned

racist horrors.

© Vroni Holzmann

Shitty Britain

 

In Great Britain

which is now called

 

Shitty Britain

we have entered

 

the most dangerous phase.

Infections are rising

 

yet a murderous government

is easing restrictions.

 

My advice: stay home.

 

Go out only when you have to.

Don’t meet anyone,

 

wear a mask

and keep a distance.

 

The government is choosing

not to save lives.

 

But you and me

can really make a difference

 

by following the

guidance of other countries

 

who are ahead of us

in the timeline.

 

A no-brains government

just means you have to

 

look at the numbers and

use your own brain.

 

Good luck!

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor: the British government has decided to ease pandemic restrictions without the introduction of mandatory masks whilst death rates are at 173 Covid victims daily and infection rates are rising, (June 20 2020)

Source: Covid 19 Info Live

A Criminal Government

 

What is up

with the

British press?

 

Our government

are a bunch of

murderers.

 

We all

know that

by now.

 

By not listening to the

scientific advice

provenly given to them

 

and not taking

the pandemic measures

to keep citizens safe

 

at the

appropriate

time

 

they are

responsible

for the death

 

of many thousands

of our valued

fellow citizens.

 

Why are they

still governing?

Why is the press

 

not challenging them?

And why are they able

to distract from

 

these murderous facts?

Why is this

not front page news

 

until they are

made to

go?

 

Prime Minister,

we can see the news

about other countries

and their successes

in containing the virus.

They usually wear masks.

 

They made clear rules

and supplied sufficient protective equipment

to their doctors and nurses.

 

You and your government

have killed your own people

on this island.

 

Take your

terrible politics

and go home.

 

The position

will go to

a responsible

 

and less murderous

soul

with the people’s interests

 

at heart

regardless of

their gain.

 

You work for

the money

not for

 

the people.

The people are now

dead or in despair.

 

Talking about slavery crimes?

A modern day genocide

is unfolding

 

right here!

But don’t think

no-one noticed

 

your crime.

I will judge you

now

 

and history

will judge you

forever.

© Vroni Holzmann

* Note by the editor: this poem is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living

or dead, is purely coincidental. So don’t sue me for calling them murderers : (

Floating on the Floor

 

What is it

with all that

yoga wisdom?

 

Corpse pose?

Really?

That’s not nice.

 

So I’ve renamed it.

It now has

a lovely name.

 

Floating on

the floor.

Yes, that’s nice.

 

And so relaxing.

 

If you don’t

have time

for yoga

 

just do

one thing,

one little trick.

 

Lie down on the floor.

Close your eyes.

Imagine you are

 

floating.

 

Do it now.

You will feel

better than

 

you have felt all day.

Your worries will

just fade away.

 

Your consciousness

will submerge

somewhere

 

under the floorboards

and your subconscious will

shine through the cracks.

 

You will feel

like it all doesn’t matter.

Just for that moment

 

you can feel

so amazing

and reflect

 

on nothing

at all.

© Vroni Holzmann

Trans Woman

 

I am what is now termed as

a white hetero cis woman.

 

So I have not much

to do with you.

 

I don’t often meet you.

When I do I am pleased

 

to see the wonderful progress

which has been made

 

transforming an unhappy gender

into another gender

 

where the skin seems to fit

and the heart feels healed.

 

But I can see a river of hate

flow towards you

 

and I am sorry

so sorry.

 

I cannot with my little brain

come up with a single reason

 

as to why some fellow humans

would feel so passionate about

 

destroying your femininity

and your livelyhood.

 

One thing I do know

is that they are not radical feminists

as they so proudly claim.

In fact they abuse the term feminist

 

and drag it down

to a hate speech level.

 

I would like to apologise to you

on behalf of these haters.

 

Please don’t listen to them.

We shall fight their abuse together.

 

My apology won’t give you back

the dignity they try to take from you

 

but the dignity is already yours

and you elevate

 

far, far above

those who do not

 

understand you.

Respect.

 

Keep fighting.

And much love

 

from a feminist

who appreciates human rights

 

for all humans

and always.

 

© Vroni Holzmann

Toppling Statues

 

You are not sure if

statues of bad men

should be toppled?

 

Why do I say men?

What, no women?

There is one of your reasons!

 

The statues of bad men

should have come down

a long time ago.

 

They stand for,

I’ll just say this bad word,

the evil one, out loud.

 

Colonisation.

 

And you can’t,

however hard you try,

make this a good word.

 

It has done bad deeds

for many centuries.

It is the essence

 

of racism.

 

The history books

never taught

British kids

 

just how bad

these deeds were,

full of genocides.

 

Topple the statues?

Topple the Royals!

Topple the Edinburgh Tattoo!

 

A yearly event

where the military

glorify the military and

 

the Empire!

 

Off with their heads!

Is what the bloody Queen would have shouted.

But I don’t even want murder.

 

Just a few statues

and a few embedded aristocracies

gone.

© Vroni Holzmann

Race is a Construct

 

I bring forward the case

in the high court of humanity.

 

The people are on trial

and the crime is racism.

 

It’s a criminal matter

as there seems certainly no

 

tiny bit of civil conduct

to be seen anywhere.

 

We begin.

Quiet in the audience!

 

First and only

proposition.

 

The human

likes to judge.

 

The judgement

of the human

 

comes first and foremost

from the eyes.

 

Ears and nose

have committed no crime

 

and shall be excused

at this point.

 

The mind of the human

will get an impression

 

and form an opinion

within a split second.

 

This matter will be settled

very easily and without doubt.

 

I see a colour of skin

and my mind is made up

 

as to what kind of person

I have in front of me.

 

Objection!

 

The truth is that

the colour of skin

 

actually tells me nothing,

and I repeat nothing,

 

about the person

I have just met.

 

Can you now please repeat

after me?

 

I know nothing,

and that means zero,

 

about the human

in front of me

 

depending on the

colour of their skin.

 

The person’s work uniform

can tell me more

 

about who they are

than their complexion.

 

But even this can be

so very deceiving

 

because in our minds

and in our eyes

 

when we see certain

work uniforms,

 

let’s say those

of the law enforcement,

 

we think they are here

to help us.

 

At least if the colour

 of our skin is white.

 

If the colour

of our skin is black

 

they’re suddenly here

to kill us?

 

How can this be?

It’s all about judgement.

 

The eyes have been

naughtily judging

 

what the mind

couldn’t know.

 

You are now

dismissed from this court.

 

Your homework for tonight

is to repeat a thousand times,

 

‘The colour of skin

tells me nothing about a person;

 

my eyes won’t judge

and my mind is open’.

 

Then keep repeating

‘my mind is open’

 

until you

fall asleep.

 

You now rest with

a good and clear

 

conscience because

race is a construct.

 

There is one race,

and one race only

 

which is referred to as

the human race.

 

The judge is now tired

Why have to explain this?

 

It’s so simple and logical.

Why has it been

 

so misconstrued?

It has to do with power.

 

Where there’s fear

there is power.

 

But please don’t fall for

those powerful people

 

as they screw

with your mind.

 

Now the day is over

and another day will begin.

 

This day will be better

and full of

 

hope.

© Vroni Holzmann

I still stay home

 

Tens of thousands have died.

Thousands are ill.

Hundreds are still dying.

 

I don’t want to sunbathe.

I don’t want a beer in the park.

And I don’t want to meet a group of friends

 

from another household.

I want to rest assured in the knowledge

that my government is sensible

 

and takes the measures to ensure

a second wave will be coped with

and avoided if possible.

 

I want to see my mum

and hold my grandchild,

but in a safe way.

 

So not yet,

not yet.

I want to rest assured that vulnerable,

 

fragile citizens with pre-existing conditions

are taken care of

in the best possible way.

 

I would like my government to listen

to the concerns of its people.

And I don’t want to come out

 

until its safe.

I don’t think it’s safe

to come out yet.

 

So I still stay home.

© Vroni Holzmann

Corona Crisis

 

These are the words

that have been

branded

 

into everyone’s

brain

 

during the weeks

of the pandemic.

 

Social Isolation.

Quarantine.

Stay at Home!

 

But this applies

only

to the lucky ones.

 

This crisis might

as well be called

“The Great Global Dying”.

 

So here is

what I don’t understand.

 

Why would anyone

be concerned about

how to spend this time?

 

Are we restricted?

We are alive, aren’t we?

 

A few months.

That’s all it is.

 

This illness is not a flu.

Stop thinking that.

 

It is a lethal virus.

It can shut down your organs,

one by one.

They can hook you up

to machines,

 

the kidneys,

the heart.

 

But there comes a limit.

There comes a time

when a mother, a father,

 

a husband, a wife,

just can’t be saved

any more.

 

Hang on, organs? Yes,

that’s if you

didn’t suffocate yet.

 

Your lungs drowning

in fluid.

 

You are coughing and coughing,

there is no light

at the end of this tunnel.

 

I wish every human

around

the globe

 

that they don’t

catch this

deadly virus.

 

So be content

to stay at home.

Stay there and

be happy.

 

You are

the lucky one.

© Vroni Holzmann

Little Wayside Flower

A gentle flower, frail and small
had thoughts on life itself and all.

It thought, oh just imagine if
I could just walk, what would I give.

It also thought, oh bloody hell
if I could swim, that would be swell.

And yes, the most amazing sight
would be if I had hands to write

so all the clever thoughts I made
would not just float away and fade.

This flower by the path was there
until a sheep that didn’t care

just ate it up, which sadly meant
its little soul away just went.

The world just never got to see
this little thing, it ceased to be.

But tiny as it was, and jaded
It knew it lived before it faded.

© Vroni Holzmann

------------------------

SILLY POETRY SECTION

I have moved silly poetry to the bottom. No-one gets to this bit anyways.

Lockdown

 

EAT.

 

WASH.

 

SCHNITZEL.

😂

© Vroni Holzmann & Abhinav Mujumder

 

* Note by the editor: This is a mind edit poem. Adapted from a poem by Abhinav Mujumder, published on twitter on 17th of March 2020. Find the original here: Untitled by Abhinav Mujumder

What is a mind edit, I hear no-one asking? It’s when my brain reads something differently from how it’s written, adapting it before I've even read the whole thing. It’s not just a misread as it always makes sense. See above : )

Sex

 

Drunken

gymnastics

 

But you have to do them

lying down

 

Fun

and exercise

 

at the

same time.

 

Hahaha,

more please.

© Vroni Holzmann

 

* Note by the editor: please give feedback about this silly section of poetry.  Make this rich in detail. Speak it into a dictaphone and hand this into your local bakery. They will be delighted and give you a free loaf of rustic bread.

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All artwork and content on this site by Vroni Holzmann 2020