Little Princ(ess)

She’s outgrown her ideas
Of whom she had to be
Maybe you’re torn between
The past and the present;
today and tomorrow

So let’s unwind not without wine
And hold unto our spine
like the winds of summer
Abrupt, a comeuppance
For hoping for the sun
So let’s begin the fun

Eyes,
Sealed off by local tapas
And familiar breweries
Taking stock of her pallid self,
On a Friday evening,
Caressing her thoughts to take
the weekend by the horn.

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Park Spoor Noord

Time and time again has it been told
Colossal words will be redundant
to clarify the fact of the matter
Who are we to judge?
You, men of today,
who trod namby-pamby
you natter around like week-old chicks
and tessellate in smaller circles,
to dine away your burdened souls
You are ebbing away,
not into the annals of history,
but as disappearing meteorites

So who are you to judge?
You, women of today, who thrive
on inoccent anthers,
to invoke a ripple of approval
from the present
you tessellate unlike your men
in bigger circles
to dine away your troubled hearts
You are all saying your final goodbyes to spring,
maybe actually to Park Spoor Noord

Cheer up, dear brother!

you tasted the unknown waters
and touched the distant seas – afar
along the inconsiderate tides
with the sacrosanct skies, staring beneath,
unto your scalp
cheer up, dear brother
as winter blurs into spring
– with minuscule day sunlight
every now and then
and the longer nights bringing forth
shorter sleeps
Autumn is still in sights
the bamboo orchids lie dormant
along greying greens
cheer up, now and tomorrow
the seasons are passing through,
the moments come and go – for good
so cheer up, my dear brother !