Wrapped in blue linen

I express my soul,
by wearing the night,
around my naked body,
to show the stars,
sparkling deep inside me,
like the intens joy,
you can find in my eyes,
a portal to a dimension,
not many dare to take,
but only a few know,
bring you straight,
to the gates of heaven.
Wrapped in blue linen,
comfort carries me,
expresses how I feel,
how the moment,
carries me to a place,
of happy memories,
where I feel safe,
and where love,
is so gentle and soft,
like the linen wrapped,
around my body,
as if roses embrace me,
on a bed made of clouds,
I am wrapped in blue linen,
like the little girl,
I used to be.

Ducklings in a pond

Birds fly overhead -
ducklings in a pond,
I learn to see the sky,
through the eyes of the universe.
Stars sparkle in the distance,
the sun shines inside,
my own drunk heart,
it is love that rules my mind.
My feet in shallow water,
my soul learns to walk,
on the reflection of the surface,
just like white swans.
The brushstroke of a wing,
as soft as cotton clouds,
why do crickets jump,
inside my own heart?
The wings that fly,
find the end of the road,
at the bus stop of rout sixty six -
only the lonely return home.
But the bird without wings,
evolves the given time,
in creativity, and perseverance -
alone is never alone.
Ducklings in a pond,
the years have made me young,
I cry a million tears,
until my home is in the stars.

The Balancing Act

Calm and chaos,

yin and yang,

darkness and light,

the scale balances,

with the weights,

always on the good side.

An attempt is made,

to bring peace,

to create harmony in our life.

Forever balancing,

on a tight rope,

until we fall,

or until the rope breaks.

Tears fall in laughter,

laughter echoes its tears –

we live in complete oblivion,

to how we really feel.

Still we balance the scale,

either left or right,

and uncontrollable in our power,

we try to control the outcome,

in our short, and precious time.

Calm and chaos,

yin and yang,

darkness and light,

the question is,

do we choose to follow darkness?

Or do we choose to follow light?

Emerald Green

Misty mountains,
covered in hues,
of emerald green,
hold thick pine trees,
as a hiding place,
for all kinds of life.

Long waterfalls,
invisible to the eye,
release sound waves,
that calm the mind,
so I locate them,
to feel the soft drops,
on my naked skin.

My soul feels free,
like the birds in the air,
unlimited by borders,
and deep blue oceans,
and I dance,
as the first rays of light,
break the treetops open.

The heart of the earth,
spreads her warmth,
from the inside out,
through my feet,
all the way to my heart,
until my soul radiates,
the light and warmth,
from deep within me.

Misty mountains,
covered in hues,
of emerald green,
have the power,
to silence,
the rush within me,
until every part of my being,
is free.

The Colosseum

On a blue vespa in Rome,
the Colosseum stands tall,
in the dim moonlight,
and soft street lanterns.

The cobblestones move,
quickly underneath me,
and I wonder about lives,
that were lost long ago.

Full arenas in awe,
of innocent people,
fighting for their lives,
against hungry lions,
savage warriors,
to maintain the faith,
they hold so close,
to themselves.

I feel the heart,
of a lonely gladiator,
longing for freedom,
in an unjust world,
knowing,
he might never see,
the morning light.

The longing for freedom,
has throughout the centuries,
never changed,
but instead,
simply passed on,
from one human being,
to the next.

And on my vespa,
in the dark streets of Rome,
I wonder,
when we will ever learn,
that for everyone,
the earth is a home,
where we deserve to live,
in absolute freedom!

The Song of my Spirit

The voice of my spirit,

carries across the hills,

until a white dove,

brings a fresh branche,

back to me.

Life begins with a call –

a breath in our lungs,

and a song in our hearts,

that changes Mozart’s music,

into Celtic melodies.

Ever-changing,

our footsteps mark the grass,

on the green Scottish hills,

where the sun sets before me,

and I am released to the stars.

But that strong call of my spirit,

will carry me through the ages,

for in the light of God,

the song of my spirit,

Will never stop singing!

Fallen petals grow!

Pink rose buds

covered in raindrops

like diamonds

dressing a woman.

Her bare skin exposed

against the elements

of the current season

waiting for the light

to make her bloom.

She dances on the wind

with her pink dress

swirling on the melodies

of angels singing.

Until one by one

her petals fall

into the hands of God

where love nourishes

them back to life

and growth starts

all over again!

Romeo & Juliet

I throw a penny,

deep into a well,

to make a pink rose bloom,

between the ivy,

that climbs these Italian walls.

The sandstone buildings,

smaller than my fist,

hide unfamiliar faces,

who drown my heart,

in love and kindness.

Three-dimensional worlds,

from the pages,

of a fairytale storybook,

bring Romeo and Juliet,

back to the land of the living.

And just like that,

a penny in a well,

becomes a wish upon a star,

and ultimately,

and answered prayer.

This poem, and all the other poems on this page belong to Gineke van Keulen. When you want to use them, ask first! Thank you!

The Peacock and the Stars

Blue and green feathers sparkle,
like silver or gold in the sun.
The delicacy of a young bird,
conceals the strength of bones,
that bend like moist twigs.

Black eyes stare at me.
I disappear into their abyss,
where the universe is recreated,
in the rebirth of stars and planets.
My wings carry me further than that,
and I inhale the sweet scent of love,
burning like fire in my heart.

Unbreakable in my fragility,
strength is always an illusion,
that bends in the stormy winds,
and breaks on sweet summer days –
the unpredictability of life,
is like tiny star explosions,
always leading to something new.

Merging together,
from two different worlds,
the peacock has to lose her feathers,
and the stars will have to forget,
their ability to break in silence.

It reminds me of growth

The scent of earth,
reminds me of growth.
Of breaking,
turning,
sweat on my brow.
Of digging,
of holes,
that need to be filled.
Of seeds,
and of life.
It reminds me,
of water,
now and again,
every other day,
or once a week.
Of pulling,
of weeds,
of earth,
underneath my nails.
It reminds me,
of waiting,
of time,
of patience,
and then,
the reward,
of all your hard work.
Of new life,
of birth,
of little by little,
every day a little more,
until all there is left,
is to bloom!