startling twist E-Book

. Ulaila

• Herausgeber: tredition
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 30

Beschreibung

Ulaila (Martina Hügli) is a researcher of reality and gardener of life. Her poetry arises from awe of the mystical depth of existence. The poems explore the infinite that reveals itself at the heart of the mundane. They root in admiration of the presence of the body and its oneness with totality. And in the indescribable tenderness permeating all of life, gathering in what is wounded and lost.

Leseprobe

ulaila

startling twist

© 2023 . Ulaila

Lectorate: Nerine Buhlert

Cover Illustration: Regina Hügli

Cover Design: Jorinde Boon

ISBN

Paperback

978-3-347-79009-4

Hardcover

978-3-347-79010-0

Large Print

978-3-347-79012-4

e-Book

978-3-347-79011-7

Publisher:

tredition GmbH, An der Strusbek 10, 22926 Ahrensburg, Germany

All rights reserved.

startling twist

ulaila

„poetry is a shining spear for the poorest warrior“

ferlinghetti

I

spring

i walk the day

in search of you,

honeysleep.

o earth, pull me

into your moist darkness.

take every word i write

and tuck it in.

i do not build realms

when i type the words.

i am feeding you.

my rotten world

hums the song

between its yielding

elements and letters.

this is not

of interest for the mind.

minds want to hear

the ambulances howling. but

when silence then returns,

when the organs melt

back into the sky and revel

in their polyphonic dance,

when the blood moves

through the body by

the heartbeat of the earth,

they’re gone, the minds.

i compost tragedy without them.

and now i am

your baby, golden sleep,

ever cradled, walking

in the symphony of dream

being created.

i love them all, the minds.

i will not take revenge

on their absence.

i softly drown

in spring’s flowering.

inside

impossible

to remember

who i think i am

when i listen how

the bees buzz and

the cat purrs.

earth opens up

and eats me,

my hands and then

the mouth.

brain becomes green,

forest from inside.

light from

an unknown sun

shines through

the canopy of leaves

moved by the wind,

and in the rowing arms

of the embryo

its veins appear.

your blood

pulsates in me.

disappearing

piece of bark with lichen –

look at me, you say,

until i disappear.

you fade, you crumble,

but you are still here.

what first looked

like a dragon

is now a flat

dried out lizard.

tail broken off,

feet to the side.

i feel you beg me,

but how does

a crumbling piece

of bark show

her desire?

perhaps when you

press me between my eyes

which glide sidewards

to the temples?

or when you nudge

the heart with your

velvet bubbling

until it turns?

when you entice

my womb until

water swells?

the compost moist.

can you feel this?

compost warms up

and finally the rotting starts.

now i will be gone

faster than any thing.

you do not have

to wait for me.

we are circling

in the same heart.

nobody

i stay at home today.

my sweater studded

with burdock and cats‘ hair.

i wear no bra

but nobody sees.

nobody needs to know

how happy my breasts are

and how free. i need

no workout to stay

in shape when i make love

with the weather

and the land. and who

could be there

for the rain, the worms

and the dandelion,

if everybody would be busy

being a person?

beloved earth, mix me

with your atoms and

take my elements

home to you.

the buzzard flies.

mice in abundance.

dog

at school i learned

to form my own

opinion about every

thing and check

the sources.

with a weighty

necklace of arguments

i walk my dog.

the neck is sore

from the sharp

edges of the characters.

who is it that believes

it is important

to have something

significant to say?

my dog jumps up at me

and tears the necklace.

all letters fall,

untraceable seeds,

onto the forest floor.

heart wrapped in fur

licks my hand.

the arguments are free

and finally

also my neck.

when the source flows,

i do not need

to check it.