THE ENCHANTMENTS OF THE SIRENS
THE SIRENS ARE ENCHANTERS
Circe warns Odysseus about the Sirens:
“You will come first of all to the Sirens, who are enchanters Keep Reading
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ANNA AKHMATOVA
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A FEELING THAT CAN NOT BE DESCRIBED, ONLY FELT ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK
Seldom I live in this imaginary world
Surrounded by ghostly energy, I can feel it
Nothing else is present in my dream today
All that is there is this huge dark space
I feel haunted now all the time
What scares me most is being alone here
All alone. Without any good soul to accompany me
Just the screams of demons and evil spirits
Joyous feeling, why did you leave me?
You deserted me and left me here all alone
Wandering around in a delirium that is not mine
It takes over my unconsciousness
Going around in circles until I lose direction
Now I can surrender, let myself fall into the deep
Nothing more of me is left other then a black hole
My spirit lost and my body absorbed due gravity
Knowing that I am going to die.
Monique Lucy Weberink
Painting is Angel in Chains by Odilon Redon
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PAUL VERLAINE – WHAT IS A POEM?
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MY DAILY WALK HOME ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK
My daily walk home…
There is a river on my right
fast flowing deep and dark water
these leaves being dragged along
twirling, what a curious sight
High up a blackness of one cloud
when I am starting to talk to you
and even though you are not here
mist forms a cover like a shroud
A few strange birds glide in the sky
the variation of trees just in front
suddently a squirrel running across
and the grass covered by a grey dye
Now there it is again, this massive weight
pressing hard on both of my shoulders
I need to find a way to break free from this
free myself from carrying this freight
These thoughts of us are crossing my mind
just because and despite of what happened
they intertwine, merging into the distant
for what is next to happen is not aligned
Do you think it just happens like this
do you think it just falls out of the sky
if so I can’t be bothered to pick it up
It’s definately not something I shall miss
Walking, step by step, slow but steady
always avoiding the mud and the puddles
still going through the drissling rain
I am clearing my mind, am getting ready
To fight this poison without a remedy
like a powerful flame that burns me up
I must wake up out of this bad dream
to finally reenter the realm of reality
You are hardly worth my while
but the curious world around me
pulls me out to another place
its only for a short mile
A sound distracts me
pulls me back here
someone walking past
that is not all I see
This is the brand new me
exactly how it was dreamt
this is the end of the road
There exists no more we
I used to think I was strong
but now I know where I belong
…its just another daily walk home
Monique Lucy Weberink, 2014
James Abbott McNeill Whistler (1834-1903)
Nocturne in blue and green
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TOLKIEN ~ REMEMBERING PAST SEASONS
I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have beenOf yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hairI sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever seeFor still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different greenI sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago
And people that will see a world
That I shall never knowBut all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet
And voices at the door”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
Vasilevskoë – Autumn
Wassily Kandinsky – 1903
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ANNA AKHMATOVA ~ IN THE EVENING
IN THE EVENING BY ANNA AKHMATOVA
The garden rang with music
Of inexpressible despair.
A dish of oysters spread on ice
Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp.
He told me: “I’m a faithful friend!”-
And lightly touched my dress.
How different from embraces
The touch of those two hands.
That’s how one strokes a cat or bird
Or looks at slender lady riders…
Just laughter in his quiet eyes,
Beneath his light gold lashes.
And the despondent voices of the violins
Sing out beyond the hanging smoke:
“Give blessings to heaven above
At last you’re alone with your beloved.”
March 1913
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AKOSAH KWADWO ~ THE HEART IS NOT YET SWEET
And then we added the colors in the rain
The hundred pins in the skeletons of dust
In the dawn and evening
Of the wedding of mourning
In the earth of the harsh country
But if the sun falls
Within you in the years
And the heart is not yet sweet
Let no one touch it
In the how many years of the sun…
Akosah Kwadwo
2012
Painting is A Summer Night, 1890 by Winslow Homer
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A SOUL INSIDE ~ POEM BY MONIQUE LUCY WEBERINK
For sure you must have a soul
Somewhere there buried inside
With strong metal welded shut tide
You play your mister perfect role
But things are not as they always seem
Fragile are the walls that you keep up
And if I could peak through the cracks
Its all just compromises into extreme
Why don’t you show your true face now
For once lower the wooden painted mask
I beg you to show me your teardrops
All I get is a lonely sounding sough
I admit when you do I might run scared
Your face forward straight and open wide
With eyes as window holes without the glass
It happened right after you no longer cared
Shadows growing on the walls and floors
The room gets dark and a struggle starts
Its following me and freaking me inside out
Paranoid trying to escape via narrow doors
Personal private sufferings took control
You committed suicide of your inner self
I know noble thoughts are fighting inside
just figure out whats wrong with your soul
I want to run away from you for good
To be the one who ditches you hard
Make you feel the same pain and anger
Being the girl who did what she could
Taken your passion and your freedom restrained
Trying to break your soul free from its cage
Bittersweet deep down up till its solid core
but the key to unlock is all that maintained
I am forced to lie, but do whatever it takes
Shorty said, exactly that and not a bit more
Every wise man should know himself to be a foul
To save you even when it takes till day breaks
Its made from paper so there is nothing to destroy
Only delineate it to get it back to the surface
Writing memories down with different colors of ink
Red curves for our love and black words to deploy
Watching the ink lines getting sucked dry
I just elegantly reclaimed my true soul mate
You are not going to take me down again
If erasing is the only option, I wonder why
Then that is what I will do.
Monique Lucy Weberink
February 2012
Silence
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EMILY DICKINSON ~ HOPE
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
… And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson ~ Hope
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