i wonder

i wonder if the world is a wonder
full place
i wonder if i wonder too much
full space
i wonder if there is any personal grace
full face
i wonder if to wonder has to do with one's faith
full pace

spring III

the traffic roaring into the open window
butterflies dancing in search for their own
me smiling at the new day with sunshine
who warms the earth's surface in loom


lush the blooming japanese cherry
moorhens collecting sticks for their nests
me wandering along the little stream
who winds itself through spring-city's west


loud the singing of the black-birds
bumblebees looking for places to sleep
me sitting on the window sill watching clouds
who form white cushions into the endless blue

endings

things end some times
for now this home is left behind
the beginning on the other side
shifting belonging some where

else

the dripping points of stories
the first thought of you
the kisses in the silent streets
longing strengthening of heart

more

finding pieces of what was me
in my new self scattered
over fruitful fields of experiences
taking backroads lost found

or less

lower cost efficiency


my ocean of tears somewhere
a horse is bathing in
a tree is growing on its shores
and you might swim

i smile
and think
endings
belonging
memory
true
stories
believing
harmony
love
pleassure
time
less
being

spring II

the trees flower
the bumble bees lair
the water flows freely
there's dust in the air

the grasslands are dotted yellow
the haze looks its best
the sky is wide open
noone gets rest

the soft leaves are streching
the butterflies dance in the sun
the wind wispers gently
we are all having fun!

spring

riding through the greening forest
two white horses
two female friends
laughing out their joyful feelings
it is awesome
it is spring

sad day

sadness greeps into my heart
its heavy then and cold and dark
this spot of mine you don't want to know
i tell you friend don't go there, "no!"

i lay alone on a cold floor
it is this feeling i adore
when my dark side is wild awake
my smiling one it needs a break

but i just don't sell my tears
oh no. they are all mine for years
they dry on my skin and leave tiny marks
noone can find them not even narks

i look for a hole and jump right into it
just leave me there only for a bit
and when i come out its all over and done
and forgotten and told by noone and none.

welcome

this is the blog of antje dubourg.
i am a french-dutch writer living in germany.
i will try to post some of my writings here.
please don't be dissapointed if you can't read much in the beginning.. i am very busy working at the moment ;)
until soon - antje