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!

Hangover

Boats sail along the shore,

waiting for horizons,

to allow the sun to set.

Seagull screams break,

the ever-present silence,

and I wake up,

to the rain,

tapping against the window.

Red wine spilled,

on spotless white sheets,

conceal cake crumbs,

and empty tea cups in my bed.

The clock strikes twelve!

I find my shoes at the door,

but my heart still waits,

in the bed I slept in,

with you!

The Dragon

The anger that resides,
in the depths of my soul,
is like a sleeping dragon,
waiting to come out,
of his peaceful hibernation.
I have learned to tip-toe,
around the branches,
of my own youth,
where demons are still,
whispering lies,
in the shadows of the forest,
that seems so hollow,
compared to summer meadows,
where I forced my heart to grow.
The fear of the unknown,
of the dragon waking up,
keeps me on the watchtower,
looking across borders,
where the real enemy,
never resides.
The dragon always hides,
in the heart of the soul,
that needs to discover,
the strength within.
I am a warrior,
fighting against myself,
and all I have to do,
to slay the dragon,
is to find the heart,
of my own soul,
inside myself!  

My old blue jeans

Under a blue sky,
a bird rises,
to fly away,
to the end of the earth,
where she finds,
the sun shining,
underneath  the feathers,
of her own black wings.

And here I walk,
with you,
in the pocket,
of my old blue jeans,
that have faded,
in the broken parts,
of yesterday.

Can I bring,
the sun back,
to that little corner,
of my place on earth?
Or do I fly away,
like that bird,
to somewhere,
where my old blue jeans,
can’t rupture?

Now I stand,
in my old blue jeans,
in the middle,
of a busy road,
where each car,
passes me by,
with the same question,
as I!

With the stains on my dress!

A fog covers the moors,
I can barely see the raven,
fly across the land.
The first sunbeams cover,
the dew covered earth,
and I look down at my bare feet.
Purple heather slowly opens,
millions of petals in my eyes,
and my soul comes back to life.
I feel like a child again,
with the deep desire to dance,
in the warmth of the sun,
that illuminates my heart.
Hope is a bird that flies,
off to the horizon,
into the light that shines,
in the distance.
The earth covers my feet,
making it heart to keep,
my white dress clean,
yet in this moment,
of morning glory,
I realize the essence,
of pure, heartfelt joy.
The stains on my heart,
are not the end of my soul,
but only the beginning,
of more and more joy!

Bouldering

I carry rocks,
like a body builder,
showing off strength,
but in the shadows,
where the lens,
cannot see me,
I climb them,
instead.
Bouldering,
rock after rock,
until the muscles,
of my fragile heart,
have grown strong.
I keep on climbing,
knowing that,
the great Chinese wall,
was not build,
in one single day.
My soul alike,
cannot be build,
in a moment.
Strength takes time,
and as the clock ticks,
I concentrate,
merely on the next,
positions of my hands,
so my feet can follow,
where the rope leads,
to the top,
of my ability.  

Midwinter

A rose blooms in the snow,
gently caressed by the sun,
who softly strikes the petals with her fingers.
Below ground life prepares itself,
for new changes in the spring,
as the acorns are looking for their owners.
I cry like an eagle across the Grand Canyon,
searching for water between the deep cliffs,
but the light feeds me from the inside.
My wings dance in the sky,
where my feet make pirouettes on thin ice.
Faith is believing in the greatest outcome,
like a rose blooming in midwinter!

All poetry posted on this page is mine! Please ask before using!
Thank you!

The Art of True Living

The withered flowers,
can only arise from their ashes,
when I can give them back,
to the dark earth.
So, I burry them,
deep within the soil,
for them to rediscover,
the art of true living.

Born from the ashes,
the red rose blooms in the summer,
and from the thorns,
I bleed the same color red.