From the Ashes

From the Ashes

Sometimes it is a miracle,
that the cracked house still stands.
Exfoliated paint has dimmed,
the always lively outer walls.
Crumbled wall joints have given,
the luxury estate a poor appearance.
The door hangs in the frame,
showing the many break ins,
this house has had to endure,
and when entering,
the emptiness proves the robberies,
of this dilapidated mansion.
Antique pink walls hint the past,
of parties with women in fancy dresses,
drinking champagne and cocktails,
whose spirits now haunt,
this desolated, empty place.
Where have they gone, I wonder?

A painting falls down the wall,
one from the baroque period,
that surprisingly still shows,
every detail of the painters work.
I am lost in this castle,
with its empty spaces and walls,
and the many cobwebs,
covering the ceiling –
even the spiders have left.
There is nothing left for me,
and a little bird on the window sill,
tells me it is time to leave.

Against all the voice,
telling me to say goodbye,
there is one asking me to stay,
for even a house in this broken state,
has a chance of coming back to life.

Love is a force,
with unbreakable strength,
that can make a flower bloom,
in the middle of the winter.
When you collect this force,
that is deep within your heart,
miracles will begin to happen,
and even an old dilapidated house,
can arise from its ashes!

Authenticity

Authenticity

My eyelids are weak,
my back is soar,
and the early morning,
forces me to scream.
I want to see the dawn,
with a colorful sunrise,
and tea to start my day.
Instead the day calls me,
with heavy stones,
and whiplashes breaking,
the fragile skin of my body.
My mind has become numb –
I stop the thinking,
as soon as I wake up,
in order to prevent,
the evil thoughts,
from crashing in on me,
leaving scars on a heart,
that is already broken.
I protect myself from a world,
who has abandoned me,
at the first breath of my youth,
for reasons I cannot comprehend.
Even the Heavens have gone silent,
unable to utter another word,
that could possibly encourage me.
The streets and bridges are empty.
Only a handful of birds,
dare to cross the sky,
unbothered by the disarray,
taking place beneath them.
My first breath in the morning,
which feels like the first breath,
of a terrified newborn child,
should be the one of a happy,
innocent child filled with wonder,
and glee of the future,
but cheerfully present in the day.
Instead I wonder about the changes,
and improvisations I could make,
to enhance my chances on a market,
that has put me in the box,
of misfits not pretty enough to sell.
Like the crooked cucumber,
that did not make the final cut,
to the runway of the supermarket.
But no matter how I put it down,
in beautifully crafted words,
to explain my small mistakes,
not one is good enough,
to force me to hide away.
I want to be my authentic self,
in a world of so many that look,
and behave exactly the same,
in a society that does not expect,
anything less than that.
I want to rise above the crowd,
of people so alike,
to show this world the beauty,
of standing out.
The worth in my soul,
wins it every single time,
of the desire to fit in.
So even if I have to live,
this one life I have been given,
in the company of myself,
I shall be happy,
for the only thing worse,
than complete loneliness,
is to be forced to kill,
my beautiful self.

Ballade Pour Adeline

Ballad Pour Adeline

The sun rises at the horizon,
and on the green grasslands,
flowers start to grow,
in the early morning light.
I am allowed to choose,
the colors of these flowers,
so, I choose the color blue,
to help them dwell in the Spirit,
until the end of their lives.
And yet, the longer I keep looking,
at this sea of endless blue,
the more my heart calls me,
to choose one more.
One more color to express,
the love within my heart,
that flows on the sweet sound,
of violin and piano music,
playing Ballade Pour Adeline.
I choose the color white,
to express the purity,
that love finds within the soul,
of a kind heart that is,
filled with the sweetest scents,
of vanilla and honey,
that attracts every life form,
in one single breath.
The sunbeams on the horizon,
enhancing the blue and white,
of these millions of flowers,
and my small contribution,
makes me cry,
tears of pure joy,
and as the sound,
of the Ballad Pour Adeline,
slowly fades away,
love is the only feeling that stays!

Our first love

Our first love

The wonder of birth,
will never cease to amaze me.
With one gasp of air,
we become one with life –
the first of many choices,
we will ever make on earth.

We breathe,
because we love,
and because we love,
we breathe.

Love and life are connected,
more than we ever realize.
Without life we cannot love,
and without love,
we cannot live our life.

If love is so important,
so vital in our circle of life,
why then do we love so little?

We put ourselves first,
without considering,
that an empty world,
leaves us desolate.

When we are born,
we love our mother.
Without that love,
we die.
Why then do we believe,
we can live alone,
for the rest of our life?

A life without people,
is an empty life,
for only through people,
we can learn,
the most selfless love,
that has ever existed.

To learn the depths of love,
we must be willing,
to look beyond ourselves.
For in the beginning of life,
we did not love ourselves first,
NO,
our first love,
belonged to our mother.

For most of my life, I was bullied, emotionally abused, rejected, and I had/have so little friends that I believed that I was better off alone. This year nearly took my life, not by COVID-19 but by loneliness. When one is rejected and alone for so long, one can get the idea that life alone is the only option. That is why I always said to myself, “It is me and God against the world”, believing there was nobody out there for me. But during the pandemic, I have learned that this is a lie. Humans are created to live together in whatever shape or size that is. The walls are slowly coming down around me and even though I am still finding my place in this life, the growth I have experienced was necessary and so important. That was the sole reason for this poem. Nobody is supposed to live a life alone! No one! And yet, there are so many, like me, who face this struggle every day. I am so blessed with my immediate family but there are those who have no one! Let us take the coming holiday season to look out for those who are alone! Give them something to look forward to. Give them love, a place at your table, a place in your life. You have no idea what it will mean to them! xox Gineke.

The Birdcage

The Birdcage

An empty birdcage made of gold,
fills an empty space in a luxurious house.
Velvet sofas of red and green,
create an old fashioned yet classic décor,
where pearls would roll across the floor,
in an overflow of wealth.
The silent emptiness is overwhelming,
and a sadness roams the halls,
in a search for that one missing thing.
Echoes cry in the darkness,
on the ever-present cry of the wind.
Love cannot be bought,
or found in the materialistic items we own.
Only when a house is filled with people,
can we truly life our wildest dreams.
Life was not meant to live alone,
why then do we focus on those things,
that can never bring us joy?
A heart needs a heart to live in,
otherwise it withers away and dies.
An empty birdcage made of gold,
is forcing me to open a window,
where nature is calling the heart,
to spread her wings and fly away,
to that one heart she needs,
to feel alive once again.

Roots

Roots

Roots dig deep,
at the rivershore,
laying a firm foundation,
for the old cottage.
The water rises,
the wind blows through the trees,
bowing and breaking the branches,
but the roots do not give in.
As the sun sets behind the horizon,
the country roads become dark,
and the foxes come out of their holes to play,
still the roots protect the house,
for whatever is built on love,
will never fall,
and whoever relies,
on this firm foundation,
will find goodness,
for the rest of his life.

Belonging

Belonging

The world fades,
as pink roses bloom.
The bell rings,
and in the distance,
sounds the whistle,
of an old black steam train,
awakening the nostalgia,
like the perfume of roses,
awakens my soul,
in the heart of friendship.
I chime the tower clock,
while the organ plays,
our favorite symphony,
as white doves fly away,
on the warm summer breeze,
that my heart releases,
at the beginning of winter.
The open fire crackles,
wrapping its warmth around me,
like a warm blanket,
on a cozy Sunday afternoon.
The tea in my hands,
smells like cinnamon and apples,
while the hot carrot cake,
lays untouched on my plate.
And as the first snowflakes fall,
I curl up in your arms,
where belonging is the same,
as being home on a cold winter day!

Photo made by: Gineke van Keulen. (Do not use without permission! Thank you!)

Summer Festivities

Summer Festivities

Sunbeams warm my face,
music softly colors the background,
and rich scents of food swirl around me.

My heart is at ease,
even though the fire is still burning,
destroying everything on her path,
just a stones throw away from me.

Somehow I decided to shift my focus,
by turning my head away from the horizon.
Life is here to enjoy and celebrate,
so, instead of focusing on what I cannot change,
I allow my heart to breathe.

The wind plays with my hair.
And as a new energy caresses my skin,
I feel an energy of growth,
mixing herself with an energy of determination,
creating a whole new beat,
teaching me to sing about letting go,
while still holding on to the rhythm of purpose.

Summer festivities are a great distraction,
to celebrate this new beginning with love.
And as new friendships suddenly embrace me,
I realize that love generally finds you,
when you learn to lose control,
over the past and the future,
to live in the present with joy!

Unchained

Unchained,
you are free.
Able to spread your wings,
to fly away on the wind.
Away from me –
from who I am,
and who I used to be.

You are able,
to choose for me,
or against me.
You are free
to be,
who you were always meant to be.

I set you free,
like a bird from a cage,
because I love you,
and for love,
to be real pure love,
it has to be free.

Love is not chained,
nor forced or caged.
In the end,
love is free.

So now,
I am unchained,
I am,
finally free.

Perception

Perception

Eyes only see,
the things they want to see.
Dead and desolate places,
alternate with magical kingdoms,
where angels and butterflies,
fly through colorful mists.

Perception is the essence,
for our identity to be,
the purest form of the self.
For hiding behind a mask,
will give only a temporary relief,
of not being seen.

Visibility is the key,
to the door of fulfillment,
but only when you block,
the murmur of judgmental voices,
and stay true,
to the truest form of yourself.

Eyes only see,
the things they want to see.
And in the sight of selflove,
and childlike positivity,
can we lift ourselves to infinite heights,
where we are more,
than we could ever think of,
and take our life,
further than it could ever be.