Youth Poems

[DieterM]

Ice Death

The midnight sun
Crowns me in this polar night
Throwing ten shadows
I sit
I drift
With the ice

With my feet
Impatiently I scrape in front of me
Scrape the cold surface
Weeping
And my tears
Freezing

My tenth shadow
Jumps up and hurls itself into the icy ocean
The other shadows
Flee me
Disappear
Choosing thousand ways to do so

One
Digs itself into the ice
Another
Flies away
Into the rough air
The icy air

Another one I follow
Staring at it
While it turns
And turns
Closer it comes
Wipes away my tears
And carries me away

Into the cold

[DieterM]

Another dream

A green blue turquoise lake invites me
To settle upon his shore
Dragonflies buzz around my head
High grass murmurs in the young day’s breath
In the middle of the reed, a frog begs for tenderness

Where is the green lake?
Come, come, lake, invite me
Wishful image of my dreams
But another dream is pushing forth
– Come, come, lake, call my name! – Another dream…

I hang above the abyss
Cling to the rain-wet rain-splashed rock
I scream down down down into the dizzying depth
I scream shout whine all the names I know
– Where are you, lake of mine?

How will the fall be? I fall
How will the impact feel? I fall
The ground gets closer and closer and closer
I fall I hit I sink
Into the lake of another dream

[PrinceMyshkin]

You've certainly got the knack of the short staccato lines as a means to build up excitement!

[Hawkman]

Two very effective poems which invite the reader to pay attention. I have revisited them several times and my appreciation does not lessen, rather it increases with every reading. Bravo. H

[MorpheusSandman]

I liked both though the second one is quite better if only because it feels more fresh and unique. I would recommend watching out for cliched repetitions like the use of the word "ice" in the first piece. I caught it used at least 4 times which is a bit too much for such a short piece. It's also usually best to steer clear of cliches like "midnight sun". I mean, such cliches can be used in interesting ways, but you should really use the context to add something new to the meaning or association if you choose to use them. I actually think the first stanza of the second poem is the most effective if only because it's the most descriptive and visual.

[tailor STATELY]

These are youth poems ? Bravo. So vivid.

[DieterM]

thanks so much for your feedback. These are really poems I've written between the age of 15 and 18, albeit in German. I stumbled upon them while doing some research for my online novel. I translated them (even if I'm acutely aware of their flaws) and used these two in two episodes I posted on my blog. Then, a reader pointed out I should try to post them here. I'll translate some others, I you don't mind, and offer them to your attention. This is just such a great forum, I have to admit! Best to all of you!

[DieterM]

Drifting through the city

Drifting through the city lonely heart
In search of someone a human soul
In search of closeness desperately
In search, and desperate, and gone

Drifting through the city lonesome one
Names I’m calling again and again
In tongues I do not muster
My mind lost, and desperate, and gone

Drifting through the city lovely I
Arm in arm you and me and you
You embrace me I embrace you
A human soul two are one

Drifting through the city two of us
Narrow lanes, pressed upon us
Larve-like faces, close up on our heels
Noises voices sounds, creeping into our brains

Drifting through the city fearful one
Suddenly I hear: a shot a gun
You’re falling down you hit the ground
Not to stand up anymore

Standing in the street I the lost one
Your blood spattering upon me
I stare and gaze and press the gun
To my temple to my head

This city I was drifting through
Has taken you away from me
This city I was drifting through
Shot my shadow only one

[dizzydoll]

Wow what a shocker I did not expect. [in your last poem]

Excellent poetry.. all of them. :D

[MorpheusSandman]

I like the last one most of all. There's a wonderful symmetry and balance to the line, with repetitions that add to the effect rather than becoming annoying or obtrusive. I also like your use of punctuation, especially the caesura-like commas. I'm not sure how much impact the "twist" has... I think elements like that work better with established characters more than in short pieces. But other than that I quite admire the form and the language.

[DieterM]

thanks again, I'll post some others then. I didn't expect to find such a great audience!

At last

My weeping is
Companion to
The machines roaring.

Slow and ever so,
I lean my back
Against the plastic tree.

My gaze is blunt as
The last bird disappears.
In my paper jacket pocket

I reach for your gift.
The polystyrene rose.
I press it to my nose and

Smell its industrial
Perfume and at last
My soulless weeping

Becomes soundless.
Then at last my cries
Are munched and swallowed

By the roaring noise.
The bangs and clangs of
A sinking world.

[DieterM]

It comes

It comes
With the wind’s hustle
Winged and with claws
To clamp in its prey

It comes
Nothing but a feeling
A murmur lifts up in
My defenseless breast

It comes
A death halo crowns
Its brow a birth promise
Weighs in its hands

It comes
Like a last escape
Preceded by its shadow
As rumor precedes truth

It comes
A legendary fairy-tale
Weaved in fables and lore
Recounted by toothless hags

It comes
And plants into our hearts
Into our souls into our heads
Incredulous wonders

It comes
Out of the nameless cold
Out of the faceless dark
Out of the senseless void

It comes
It strikes
It fills
Us to the brim

[DieterM]

Winter

Sleepy and unruffled
Echoes imprisoned by snow
Somewhere flickers a flare

Flickers in the dark
Calmly glowing lamps shine
Slowly wandering clouds
Heavy and lethargic

Indolent thick flakes glide
Down to earth’s white coat
I steer my steps in silence

Trail my path and drift
Towards my home my cozy
Watch out! There’s a star
Falling from the dusk

Dives onto the bride’s sheet
Noiseless and unheard
Will they ever see it?
Will the dream come true?

Once again I’m lonely
Solitary dancer
Dreamer in the night

[DieterM]

In the grass

And the white day melts away to colours sounds and smells,
and idler still the grey-blue clouds flow stiffly over the zenith’s peak,
and through the rustling ears a breeze smolders a breath,
and time stretches and yawns,
and springtime yellow perfumes mount from the narcissus dew-trickled,
and paralyzed tranquility is troubled by the tolling of bluebells far-away,
and a blade of glass tickles my chin,
and with the Key of Heaven a door opens up.
The door to bliss.

[DieterM]

You say

You say,
‘Look at the tear on my cheek I shed it for you’,
you say,
‘Sometimes I’m afraid of the monsters murmuring in the dark’,
you say,
‘Sometimes I’m afraid when you smile of your smile’,
you say,
‘Afraid when you gaze of your gaze’,
you say,
‘Afraid when you touch of your touch’,
you say,
‘Sometimes I wonder how life would be’,
you say,
‘How life would be would be without you’,
you say,
‘How life would be if you were dead’,
you say and for a second there’s a strange
smile
around your tear-blind eyes

[DieterM]

There is

There is a smell in the air
A smell from the East
A fragrance of blossoms swirling
A perfume of morning-dew
A scent of grass freshly mown

There is a smell in the air
A smell from the East I say
Where the morning grows up
A yellow smell filling the wind
When it glides into my nostrils

There is the first glint of sunrays and
Three dew-wetted fauns are bathing in it then
The sun gets impetuous and
Breaks the new day and
The fauns become silvery and fade away

There is a smell in the air and is gone
A smell from the East I said
Of magic, of singing
Of dancing a roundel
With toddling steps

There is the memory of the smell
It left a smile on my mouth
Printed a fauny shine
A sunny wrinkle
Round my eyes

[PrinceMyshkin]

Beautiful how elegantly this unwinds and the varied repetition of the smell in the air. Such a graceful poem. Thanks

[hillwalker]

Wonderful imagery, such lyrical lines to grace any summer's day.

[DieterM]

Now o’clock

I’m leaning against the window
Playing domino with the stones
Singing campfire songs with the grass
Running a bet with the trees

He’s gazing at me
Out of his inscrutable dark eyes
He’s gazing at me
Keeping me propped up for a year and more

I’m failing and falling
When his gaze disappears
My frame and support
You are gone

The dream-trees are chopped by reality lightning
The dominoes thrown over in Here-land
The campfire choked, the grass burnt
At now o’clock

[DieterM]

Rain

Pear-like sparkling beams
Drops shimmer, prisms glisten
Dangling from cobaltblue leaves
Tender-smooth elements glide
An army, a veil of water

Wet stream drizzles upon the red-green lands
Seven mighty tree-trunks sway
Like seven dark Nureyevs they dance
Like seven drenched sylphs they gambol
Under the swishing beats

Smoke-black clouds tower, superior, in the sky
Sending their watery messengers down
In a green-brown puddle smeared and streaked
Children dance and yell Hurrahs
And splash around and enjoy their pool

The raven croaks hoarsely
Sitting hunched on the soaked bench
Hops two steps further on a leg
Another raven comes flying and sits on the wood
Then a ligthning flashes and parts the thunder-rumbling air

[blank|verse]

This is a nice poem, Dieter, which shares some philosophical ground with PrinceMyshkin's 'Now'.

I enjoyed the imagery and rhythm of this line:

Running a bet with the trees
with its attractive run of dactyls.

I liked the rhythm and repetition of the second stanza, but felt the last line was too long and fell flat. You seem to have a feel for creating a rhythm, but I feel you could make it less staccato by using more enjambment.

Just a few quibbles: do you mean 'dominoes' in line 2? I wasn't too keen on the title and it's use as the conclusion; I got a bit confused by the sudden appearance of 'you' in line 12. I think more detail and less abstraction would help.

But overall, I felt the poem worked well.

I missed your other poem 'There is' first time around, but both poems remind me a lot of James Fenton's. Have you read 'Wind' (http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=5577)?

[DieterM]

@Blankverse: My, thank you for your nice comment! I've heard of J. Fenton but had to follow your link in order to discover the poem you're talking about. I must say, I liked it and feel really very honoured by your comparison. As for the flaws you'll find, no doubt, in my poems, they are what the overall thread title suggests: Youth Poems. I wrote them (in German, my mother tongue) when I was a teenager, between ages 15-18. Then, they were forgotten in a drawer, and I stumbled upon them recently. I translated a few of them and posted them here. Of course, I tried to edit the lines with my now adult gaze but didn't want to destroy the naiveté and new look on things I sure must have had in my youth. Hence the flaws, repetitions, sometimes a sense a bit too bleak for the taste I've acquired ever since.

[hack]

I think that they are all proof of a talent
that you should not deny us, whatever
your age at their inception. Poems like
these are the reason I am entranced by
this site. I hope to read more...peace...

[DieterM]

@hack: peace to you, too. And an immense thanks for your encouraging words.

Her's another one from my Youth Collection.

Yesterday

A mirage, pale and blurred against
the sizzling desert skyline,
wafting between burning dunes

Reflection in a puddle with
the crisp and sparkling morning dew
and rippling rushing clouds

Foaming pearls of crusted blood
streaking the chalk-white walls
of ancient, enchanted castles

Smudged drawings on a wet beach,
lonesome footsteps in the sand,
licked away by greedy, jealous waves

Buzzing air flows over a campfire
flaming on a naked solstice field,
eating hungrily the humbly offered sheaves

Semi-lucid shadows, spectres, silhouettes,
fading ghosts, concealed and howling fantoms,
stories yet to tell or still untold

This is your yesterday you frequently refer to,
the wall you’ve built around your fragile life,
the days of mirth and pain and bliss, all gone

Aware, I’m here, I’m now, I’m what your eyes perceive
I’m willing to protect you like a wall
I will not let you weep me down into your past

[PrinceMyshkin]

At some point (maybe around the 4th verse) I began to experience image-overload, which threatened to obscure the structural coherence of this. You recovered the narrative thread, I thought, in the last verse, but I might have preferred getting there a bit more quickly.