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The living dead

You do not belong to them, but they belong to you, all those you loved and always missed, who gave their love and you could never do without, which is why they will never leave you but protect you and be with you always to such an extent that you and they are one. You are like them, eternal in your love, more loving actually than when they were alive, as you will be when ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The living dead / 155 words / /

Old love never rusts

Old love never rusts and never changes but grows with the years not only in maturity but most of all in durability, so that it almost seems quite natural that it not only must remain for always but is also just another chapter of the past, as if it never really had any beginning or, if it had, it was long since forgotten far away in the eternity of timeless past; which means, that love ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on Old love never rusts / 137 words / /

The Drop of Spring

the last of my Wecksell translations – for the time being In the spring of dawn by happy warblings of the larks there was a-resting on a cloud a tear brought out in shyness bathing in the sunlight. There was triumphant universal joy which brought the tear some inspiration filling him with coy desire and the courage to express a wish: Give also me some life, so that I may dare try to live! An ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The Drop of Spring / 135 words / /

The Song of the Heart

Just another Wecksell translation: He wrote 215 poems in his brief period of activity, mainly as a youth, like Rimbaud. The heart knows not of peace and dares not hold a faith, it only beats in constant worry, and who ever understood its sighs? Bright eyes of blue, why must you sparkle so? and heavenly charming smile, why must you outshine heaven? You took my peace away, the heart is robbed of all its faith, ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The Song of the Heart / 190 words / /

The Girl Who Brings Me Flowers

The girl who leaves me flowers Has been again today I’ve yet to see that face of hers But I’ve watched her run away I’ve tried leaving her messages To ask her to explain But she seems to just ignore them And still comes back again The girl who leaves me flowers Just won’t let me be In an instant she will come and go What does she want from me? Every Sunday for two ...
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/ / Poetry / 1 Comment on The Girl Who Brings Me Flowers / 90 words / /

I’m Not Bitter

I wrote this after a break up with a girlfriend some years ago. Reading it again makes me realise how angry I must have been. Makes me smile now though ! ...
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/ / Non-Fiction / No Comments on I’m Not Bitter / 153 words / /

At Dawn Came Love (Part IV)

She had a face like porcelain gently obscured with puffed powder. Eyes always slanted down as if contact would melt brick and dissolve the dirt beneath. The hat was mandated so as not to tempt men with long hair. Hat pins were the fashion, bustles as necessary as a lace handkerchief in the brocade and bead handbag ...
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/ / historical, Poetry / 49 words / /

Dark Paths.

/ / Emotion., Poetry / 2 Comments on Dark Paths. / 35 words / /

The Diamond in the Snow

translation of another poem by J.J.Wecksell, also made to music by Sibelius On the blinding snow drifts there is a diamond glistening serenely. There never was a tear, a pearl of higher sparkling lustre. Her brilliance like of heaven comes from deep and secret longing, as she casts her glance towards the sun when it comes rising in full glory. As that warming beam strikes at the snow, the diamond starts melting in her adoration, ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The Diamond in the Snow / 112 words / /

Was it a dream?

Translation of a poem by the Finnish poet Josef Julius Wecksell (Swedish, 1838-1907), who far too early lost himself in schizophrenia (1862, with the production of his only play, the dramatic masterpiece "Daniel Hjort"). Sibelius put it to music. Was it just a dream that I was once your heart's beloved? I remember it most like a silenced song the string of which is trembling still. I remember that you offered me a briar rose ...
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/ / Poetry / 2 Comments on Was it a dream? / 155 words / /

The long trek.(Part one)

I was prompted in some way by Mike Verdy's cancer diary to write about my long journey about a different cancer,to give some hope to fellow sufferers ...
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/ / Non-Fiction / No Comments on The long trek.(Part one) / 839 words / /

Complaints

trivialities All that's wrong with you is that you are too beautiful, so everyone must love you and too much. And all that's wrong with our relationship is that we do not meet enough but have to starve between our meetings, since all time that we are not together is a wasted time of thirst and hunger and what's worse: of dying desolation of desertion. All that's wrong with our lives is that we do ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on Complaints / 124 words / /

The black spider of history

translation of a symbolistic (Swedish) poem by Adolf Paul (1863-1943), a German-Swedish-Finnish poet and friend of Sibelius Beyond the forest where life is so green and the sun shines so brightly, a spider sits snugly so black and so huge in the grass watching out for its prey. He catches the sunlight and weaves of its rays a web of invisible darkness so strong and so light to be able to catch any soul coming ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on The black spider of history / 221 words / /

Dark Clouds Return

Cancer Diaries - The Last Entry Dark clouds return, stealing the sun from my sky, bringing with them the winter wolves of yesteryear. They come closer, as if they sense the time has come. The crows are back, surrounding my dreams. I have only dark thoughts. There’s a crack in my world, a shift in my place ….. The order changes and I must move on. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2nd July 2017 This will be my last ...
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/ / Non-Fiction / 20 Comments on Dark Clouds Return / 560 words / / UKA PICK!

If Only.

A short poem written while mourning. If only you could hold my hand the way you used to do. If only you could whisper: "My darling I love you." If only that I could reply: "My darling I love you too." Dark clouds in my mind might vanish, once again my sky will be blue. E.W.Peters.   05-07-2017 ...
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/ / Poetry / 4 Comments on If Only. / 52 words / /

The Baobab Tree (6)

Opiates and imaginings Busisiwe stood with her back to a fever tree and was idly imagining what old Khanyisile would look like now. Was she still old in this place, or had she taken the form of her younger self? It was said she was quite the beauty when she was a young woman. What would she say when they met? Could Sile and the older Sangoma help? She really hoped they could. The faces ...
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/ / Fiction / No Comments on The Baobab Tree (6) / 1511 words / / UKA PICK!

We live.

/ / Fiction, love, poetry / 1 Comment on We live. / 45 words / /

At Dawn Came Love (Part II)

She wore lilac taffeta in rainbow arches and layers aswirl with the curve of her hips and legs totally covered and never publically spoken of, only imagined. Breast was a profane word used only by physicians in dim gas lit closed rooms. Children were fed in secret, a more and code that still exists as if a breast was the ultimate ju ju that might disrupt the earth’s turning or topple governments ...
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/ / historical, Poetry / 66 words / /

At Dawn Came Love (Part III)

She walked in high topped cream shoes fastened with a strange device few would recognize from our days of velcro few from those times would identify as a fastenable item. Her step might err and glance horse droppings, the hem hiked to protect hand made lace ...
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/ / historical, Poetry / 37 words / /

Black roses

A translation of a Swedish poem by the artist Ernst Josephson (1851-1906), set dramatically to music by Sibelius. Why are you so melancholy, you that always were so happy? – I can not be merry any more, for sorrow has brought me black roses. There is in my brain a tree of roses growing, that will never leave me any peace, and there is a thorn by every stem which constantly brings me much pain ...
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/ / Poetry / No Comments on Black roses / 125 words / /