Nihil fit sine causa.

  ältere Werke
  Creative Writing 06 & 08


   Nuntii Latini
   Frau Freitag
   Fräulein Krise
   Treff4U Community
   Lebendiges Deutsch
   Computer Service

Gratis bloggen bei

Da ich hier lediglich die assignments (und erste Versuche solcher) für den "Creative Writing" Kurs an der Uni poste, sind keine großartigen Leistungen oder interessante Ergüsse zu erwarten... ^.^

--- --- ---

Sommersemester 2006:

first task - translation of a poem (due april 12):

my choice: Mascha Kaleko - Ausgleichende Gerechtigkeit

Die Strafe, die ich oft verdient,
gestehen wir es offen:
ist sonderbarerweise nie
ganz pünktlich eingetroffen.

Der Lohn, der mir so sicher war
nach menschlichem Ermessen,
der wurde leider offenbar
vom Himmel auch vergessen.

Doch Unglück, das ich nie bedacht,
Glück, das ich nie erhofft –
sie beide kamen über Nacht.
So irrt der Mensch sich oft.

my transition: Poetic Justice

I often deserved punishment,
but let us now admit
that quite on time -
oddly enough - arrive it never did.

Unfortunately and obviously,
heaven also seemed
to have forgotten the reward
that people mine had deemed.

But both disaster I never considered
and never-hoped-for bliss
came overnight, which clearly shows:
Humans often err like this.


second task - one limerick and one clerihew (due april 19):

first attempts (during a free period):

there was a young fellow from york
who always liked to eat pork.
so he went to a bar
where he ordered a jar
but the guy working there was a dork.

a young fellow came into a hall
where the ceiling was built very tall.
he was hit by the lamp
that came down on this tramp
so he felt like a punching-ball.

(then) there was a little black sheep
who often found (had) reasons to weep
so its eyes grew as puffy
as its wool could (would) be fluffy
so it was hardly able to peep
(poor sheep)

this guy pittiplatsch
always did talk too much
so his throat went sore
and his show wasn't shown anymore*

mr. brad pitt
by aniston's love was hit
and he was so glad
'til angelina he met

rather poor results...

second attempts (during the rest of the week):

there once was a young fellow in riesa
who wanted to travel to pisa.
he got into his car
and drove very far
although he did not have a visa.

there was a new teacher at school
who thought teaching maths was quite cool.
but his students were bad
and especially that lad
that once pushed him into the pool.*

* the ones I chose for class... (not good but rare ^.^)


third task - a short story, cross-gender writing (due april 26):

Not an easy thing to tell...

I don’t know how to tell them, well, how to tell him. I mean, he is my best friend and it would change everything, wouldn’t it? Will he understand? Maybe. But then again, who knows, I don’t even know whether I would react properly to a revelation like this, even though I would understand. At least in some way. But who really does understand feelings, especially this kind of feeling? Though, actually, there might be someone…
“Mom, can I talk to you about something?”
“Yes, dear, of course. What’s the matter?”
“Well, you know, if you like someone, I mean, really, really like that person, but you’re like best friends and stuff – would you tell that person?”
“Well, honey, why not? What are you scared of? Love is such a great thing, you don’t want to miss out on it. And even if your crush doesn’t feel the same way about you, you can still continue to be friends.”
“But what if not? What if it spoils everything?”
“It won’t honey, trust me, it won’t. Love doesn’t spoil things; it lights them up.”
“Alright, if you say so…”
“I do, dear, I do, but I’ve got to go now. Can we continue this conversation tonight?”
“Sure, whatever…”
… although tonight’s a little too late. Maybe I shouldn’t tell him at all. I mean, maybe mothers aren’t as smart as everybody thinks, maybe they don’t know everything either. And it’s been quite a while since mom’s been deeply in love with anybody the way that I am now, (what) with all the passion and longing. She doesn’t know anymore, and I don’t know yet.
Why does it have to be that way, why me, why do I of all people have to be different? But I’m afraid I do have to tell him, even though he might hate me for it. I’ll just have to give it a try. He’ll notice anyway that something is different. Well, actually, he already has, and I can’t stand it. If he asks only once more what’s going on I’ll have to tell him. Otherwise he’ll notice that I’m lying and I guess that would make the whole thing even worse.
Well, my time to consider is up, he’ll be here in about five minutes. I’m scared. I don’t want him to detest me but I have to tell him.
Oh Lord, please help me. Make him accept it…
“Hi Will, come on in. How’s it going?”
“Alright, as always. Ready to go? Everything alright?”
“Yeah, sure… Well, actually, I have to talk to you about something I’ve been wanting to tell you for ages…”
“Well, why don’t you, then?”
“It’s not as easy as you might think…”
“Come on, we could always talk about anything we had on our minds. What’s the problem now?”
“Well, I… uhm, (the) truth is, I… I… I love you.”
“You what? Are you gay, man? Get away from me!”

Well, mom, I guess it’s not quite true that love doesn’t spoil things. And that mothers know everything seems to be just as wrong…


fourth task - four haiku about a household item, spring fever, a flower, birds (due may 3):

first attempts (during "handlungsorientierte medienpädagogik" and "einführung in die psychologie des lehrens und lernens"):

(a household item)
sweet relaxation,
sleepily sinking into
my beloved pillow.

(spring fever)
fresh green color spreads,
leaves and blossoms everywhere,
new life all around.

(a flower)
shy and enchanting,
simple and often ignored,
friendly white daisy.

second attempts:

flying with the wind,
ease and limitless freedom,
soaring through the sky.

(a flower)
bloody red petals,
proud and endearingly fair,
weak nevertheless.

(spring fever)
spending time outside,
snogging couples everywhere -
very annoying.


fifth task - declaration on why i am glad to be a woman (due may 10):

I am glad that I’m a woman,
although I didn’t have a choice:
for though we often have less muscle,
we usually have a nicer voice.

Women are also much more pretty,
prettier than men can be,
and although that’s superficial,
it’s something everyone can see.

Women can wear pretty dresses,
make-up, laces or a skirt.
Well, of course, a man can do that,
but seeing him the eyes would hurt.

While most men by their dicks are guided,
women really use their brains;
and when they’re sick it’s not life’s ending
‘cause they don’t whine at little pains.

Those are only some good reasons,
but I’m sure that there are more,
and on a list ‘men versus women’,
men would reach a lower score.


sixth task - terza rima on love, utopia or the ideal society (due may 24):

(again during "handlungsorientierte mediendidaktik")


She can just lift us up to heavens high,
but to the abyss also pull us down.
Can make us happy, even make us sigh,

can make us soar, but also let us drown.
Can lighten up our faces with a smile,
but in an instant also make us frown.

Can slow down hours to a little while,
or stretch them, sometimes, to eternity.
Can make our hearts feel shattered like a tile

when signs of being loved we do not see.
Can make us act like fools, without a thought.
Enchains us but can also set us free.

Can make us helpless when by her we’re caught.
Can, if she wants to, keep us in her web.
Can make us seek her when to flee we ought.


seventh task - a villanelle (due may 31):

I do not know who I’m supposed to be

I do not know who I’m supposed to be,
Or who‘s this friend that once just let me down.
And no one’s there to set this knowledge free.

I play a role that everyone can see.
Uncertainty, though, often makes me frown.
I do not know who I’m supposed to be.

I wonder if there ever will be glee –
Such thoughts by keeping busy I can drown.
And no one’s there to set this knowledge free.

I do not show the battle shaking me,
And, though I wear assuredness like a gown,
I do not know who I’m supposed to be.

Can’t find my way in zigzags like a bee
When confidence is no more than a noun.
And no one’s there to set this knowledge free.

I do not know life’s prize, don’t know its fee,
But knowledge of myself should be its crown.
I do not know who I’m supposed to be.
And no one’s there to set this knowledge free.


eighth and nineth task - a rubaiyat on hair, a cinquain on rain or roots, and a short story on hair (due june 14):


If blond, if brown, no matter what we see –
A color can be changed so easily;
If it is long or if it is kept short:
No special hairstyle's ever meant to be.


extraordinary yet common
fresh rain
keeps falling down
onto the ground and me
and is not really much more than


I hate it. It is just so very annoying. And on many people it just does not look good, but, of course, they will not listen when you try to tell them. Nobody will.
So why don’t they just take it off? Takes only about ten minutes. Shouldn’t be a problem. But: no! let’s stay ugly! I do not understand these people. To my mind, feeling a fresh breeze on clear skin seems to be preferable to carrying a greasy mess around.
Of course, I am the bad one. I do not understand their aim. I do not realize what they are trying to communicate to ignorant persons like me. I do not really look at them. Which, in a way, is right because the way they look is not a pleasure to the eye. I am just jealous because of the way they look and the way I do. Fine! Let them think so, if it makes them happy.
I do not care. Or rather: I do not care about their thoughts. They do not hurt me. They do not cause revulsion because I do not know them. They are not visible, although they might be some day. I hope that I have died by then. But for the moment, they do not matter to me.
What I do care about is their looks. Because they do hurt me. They make my eyes blur. They make me want to puke. Sometimes they almost make my heart cease its beating. You know what I mean: turning around and seeing a mass of bright pink right before your eyes, or, even worse, almost having your eyeballs poked out because some kid has to wear huge spikes on its head.
I mean, ignorant or not, what is that supposed to express? That today’s kids have nothing better to do than to spend hours in front of the mirror in order to fix their hair? Or simply that they have no sense at all for what looks good and what does not? I will probably never know.
I wish they would listen to me, though. I would tell them to cut it all off. Wiping a bald head in the morning and in the evening is much faster than glueing together your hair with expensive products. That would leave them more time to do their homework properly. If they did so, they would receive better grades, and, consequently, better jobs. All of which would lead to smarter people and less unemployment. This might be a little exaggerated. I know. You might call me insane. I do not care.
Nobody can expect me to remain sane as long as I have to see this misery on the heads of the members of our society. And that’s what it is: misery. Many shapes of it: terrible colors, even worse cuts, or, what is worst, absolutely horrible cuts dyed with the most gruesome colors.
Green for example. What do people want to state by wearing their hair green? That they wish to be a plant? That their brains are so moldy their heads cannot keep it in any longer? That they are green with envy regarding the few people wearing presentable hairstyles? Who knows? I, in any case, do not.
Another thing are those asymmetrical haircuts. Awful to look at. Makes me doubt the abilities of modern hairdressers, which means both being able to create a decent hairstyle and being eloquent enough to talk people out of wanting anything else than that.
But I guess I could accept all this ugliness if people only cared for what is on their heads. What is the point of a haircut if it is drowned in grease? Or if it seems to not have seen a comb for weeks? Or if the first half is of a different color than the second half? Even a good hairstyle, and there are not many of those, is not worth anything if it keeps falling apart.
As for example the stupid yellowish-green mop on the waiter’s head that keeps spreading into people’s food. And that spoils the day of people like me by causing them to muse about hair…


tenth task - an ode to some abstract/concrete concept (due june 21):

Ode to Latin prose

Thou makest simple things eloquent
And learning thee an honor is.
Thou makest many scholars happy
For whom thy lecture seems like bliss.

Thou greatly hast enriched my studies.
Thou camest without me wanting you.
Thy grammar’s challenge was enormous,
But somehow thou madest me get through.

But many hours didst thou steal me,
And my friends’ rage didst thou effect.
To deal with thee is not as facile
As would have been thee to neglect.

Thy verbs know little of simplic’ty,
Thy contents are not up to date,
Thou be’st unlike the things we know of,
So many students thee do hate.

As long as students have to learn you,
Thou wilst be loved, wilst be despised.
Thy words and grammar will cause madness,
‘til one day fin’ly low thou liest.

possible alternative for fourth stanza:

Thy verbs know little of simplic’ty,
Thou be’st unlike the things we know,
And students often do despise thee
‘til out of their lives thou dost go.


eleventh task - an elegy on farewell/death (due june 28):

Elegy on a lost friendship

Long ago summer, long ago days,
By coincidence, then, I met you.
We had lots of fun, in many ways,
And some problems, too, that we’ve gone through.

We played with your cats; we rode our bikes;
We were kidding around for hours.
Sometimes we laughed about shoes with spikes,
And we liked the world that was ours.

We knew each other so very well,
And spent much of our time together.
We went outside or stayed in because,
Unlike me, you did mind the weather.

But time was flying and we did change,
And a distance was starting to grow.
I now was less important to you,
And the reason I still do not know.

It has been months since I last saw you,
And weeks since you’ve shown a sign of life.
I will not tell you but I regret
That you’ve almost vanished from my life.

I guess that friendships must be fading
As soon as one friend no longer cares.
The other friend will suffer quietly
Until at last to let go he dares.


twelfth task - a sonnet on parents/reunion(s) or love (at first sight) and a biobibliography (due july 05):

Not meant to be…

There was no sudden heartbeat when we met.
I did not think that you could be the one.
I was not antsy, did not start to sweat –
Of all the usual symptoms there was none.

We were not meant to be a couple then,
And are not meant to be one now as well.
You’re not my boy. I will meet other men.
I’m not your girl. And everyone can tell.

But love at first sight is not all we know,
And passion not the only kind of love.
So from our years of friendship there did grow
A loving that’s as gentle as a dove.

Thus friendship, if there’s no love at first sight,
Can surely shine in our hearts just as bright.


There is not much to say about me. I am a university student. I am nuts. I have a special relationship to my bicycle. It is the love of my life. As soon as marrying objects is legalized, there will be a wedding. I have a predilection for German grammar. I cannot stand hearing people mutilating it. As everybody else, I am going to die some time. But before that day I am going to create as much chaos as possible.


thirteenth task - a dialogue with a household item (due july 12):

This is difficult. My bike usually does not talk. Or rather: it does communicate but not exactly with words. Also, a real conversation between the two of us would never be written down. It is spontaneous. I cannot know what I might say, nor what it would answer. It all depends on where we are going, how long it takes, how well I am in shape, how many damages in the road and how many hills there are. But I will try and maybe it will work. A talk on a trip on an imaginary road. Assuming that my beloved bicycle actually uses words for once.
„Hello, my dear, how do you do? I am so glad to be with you…” (singing)
“Not again. Have you noticed that this greeting is getting really boring? If you at least knew the whole thing, but you already get stuck after the second line…”
“I’m sorry. I love you. Let’s get going.”
“Like I have a choice…”
rolling it out of the cellar and stopping to close the lock
“Come on, stand still. It won’t take a minute.”
“I was hoping I could run off all by myself.”
carrying it up the stairs,
the front wheel slightly touching the wall

“Would you mind taking a little more care?” – “I’m sorry.” (said simultaneously)
“Do you think I want to be seen with white spots on my wheels? What is that supposed to look like? It’ll spoil my whole appearance!”
“No, it won’t. you are beautiful, and a little bit of white wouldn’t change that. Although there isn’t even any…”
rolling up my pants while saying that
“Do you always have to do that? It doesn’t actually look very nice. And you don’t even make an effort to make both sides look the same…”
“The better for you. If I look stupid, you will stand out even more. Or would you prefer me wearing pegs?”
“No, but what about pants that don’t have to be rolled up?”
by now having carried it outside and taking off
“Isn’t it nice out here? I love you if you roll on as easily as this, without me having to make a big effort.”
“Yeah, it’s not too bad. In any case better than standing around in that damp cellar all day.”
running through a pothole
“Do you always have to guide me through every single damage in the road? Do you think that feels so good?”
“I’m sorry. ‘Please, forgive me, I know not what I do…’” (singing)
“No, don’t sing! At least, don’t sing songs you don’t know the words of. Just try to watch out.”
“I am trying. But there’s just so much more to see than the road.”
“I don’t care. I’m the one who has to suffer if you don’t pay attention.”
“Poor you!”
“Yes, poor me. You make me suffer, make parts of me come loose, are not able to fix me, and then you’re not even sorry about it. I actually am to be pitied.”
“What’s your problem? I always find someone who’s able to fix you.”
“So what? Would you like to be touched by stangers?”
“You’re exaggerating! My dad’s about the only one fixing you and you’ve been his for like twenty years. You call that a stranger?”
“No, but my splashboard, for example, was fixed by your uncle, and him I didn’t know.”
“True. But still, he’s not a stranger. You’re standing in front of his home almost every week for several hours.”
“But he tickled me.”
“Oh my God. How could he have done that?”
“Don’t mock me. Keep your breath for the hill that’s coming.”
riding halfway up the hill,
totally out of breath

“Come on, get me up there. I know you can do it. Just keep that pace, even if I slow down my pedalling…”
“I’ll do what I can. Too bad you don’t know anything about physics and what it says about energy needed to keep objects moving…”
reaching the top
“Thank you so much. I knew you could do it. ‘I love you. I honestly love you’ (singing)…”
“Yeah, right…”
And that way it can go on and on. Maybe I should mention that I made it even more unrealistic by switching bikes somewhere in the middle of the conversation - I started the ride with my beloved new one and finished it with the old one I am using at university. So what, it does not matter, I do like both of them. Although I am only going to marry the new one some day…

--- --- ---
--- --- ---
--- --- ---

Sommersemester 2008:

first task - translation of a poem (due april 23):

my choice: Erich Kästner - Sachliche Romanze

Als sie einander acht Jahre kannten
(und man darf sagen: sie kannten sich gut),
kam ihre Liebe plötzlich abhanden.
Wie andern Leuten ein Stock oder Hut.

Sie waren traurig, betrugen sich heiter,
versuchten Küsse, als ob nichts sei,
und sahen sich an und wussten nicht weiter.
Da weinte sie schließlich. Und er stand dabei.

Vom Fenster aus konnte man Schiffen winken.
Er sagte, es wäre schon Viertel nach Vier
und Zeit, irgendwo Kaffee zu trinken.
Nebenan übte ein Mensch Klavier.

Sie gingen ins kleinste Café am Ort
und rührten in ihren Tassen.
Am Abend saßen sie immer noch dort.
Sie saßen allein, und sie sprachen kein Wort
und konnten es einfach nicht fassen.

my transition: Factual Romance

When eight years had passed since the day they had met
(and knowing each other was all this time’s gain),
their affection just vanished, abruptly, like that.
It had vanished as have a lost hat or a cane.

Although they were sad, on each other they cheated
and they tried to go on as though things were alright.
At each other they looked, didn’t know what was needed,
and when fin’ly she wept, he just stood at her side.

You could wave at the ships from a window right there.
He said it was already quarter past four,
and time to go out, have a coffee somewhere.
There was someone who played the piano next door.

The café, the smallest in town, entered they
and just stirred in the cups that they got.
They were still sitting there at the end of the day,
and though there all alone, not a word did they say,
but believe it, no, THAT they could not.

--- --- ---

second task - one limerick and one clerihew (due april 30):

I did once meet a really mad mannequin,
who turned over her neighbor’s big garbage bin,
and so he asked her why,
and she gave the reply
that to waste that much stuff was an awful sin.

We once had a funny new teacher
whose vocation was being a preacher.
So he lectured our class
and got kicked in the ass
‘til he looked like a copy of Kreacher.

There once was a weird sheep all in black.
In its free time, it liked to smoke crack.
Soon, its money was spent,
so to Vegas it went
where it earned some by playing Black Jack.

Mr. Bruce Darnell
did so very well
on TV among many beauties
where talking and ranking were his duties.

Professor Doctor Voss’
retirement was quite a loss.
Or, at least, that’s what many students say.
I never met him before he went away.

--- --- ---

third task - a short story, cross-gender writing (due may 07):

Motherly talk…

“Boy, we’ve got to talk.”
“What? No! We don’t. Anyway, not now. Don’t you see that I’m busy?”
“Playing this weird game is not what I would call busy…”
“Well, I would!”
“… and actually I don’t care whether you are busy or not. I said we needed to talk and that is what we will do now.”
She pulls the plug out of the socket, the screen goes blank.
“Thank you so much, Mom. I was just about to win, for the first time ever.”
Ever! Well, alright, that was a lie. It’s not like she would have known anyway. Why do mothers always want to talk, he wondered, and why always at a time when you’re really busy?
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You’ll win next time, I’m sure. And if not, you’ll just play again, I mean, it’s just a game and nothing of importance.”
“Stop treating me like a little child. I’m 15, alright? 15! This is not playing with stupid teddy bears or with matchbox cars, this is important. Everybody has it, and we’re gonna have a tournament in two weeks’ time and I don’t wanna suck just because you keep bothering me.”
“Watch you tone, darling!”
“Leave me alone, will you?”
“No, I told you I wanted to talk to you. And your game is finished for the moment anyway.”
“Well, fine then. What do you wanna talk about?”
“What? My room? I’ll tidy it up tonight. It’s not that bad anyway.”
“No, I wasn’t going to talk about your room…”
“What then? The last test in algebra? I failed. I know that sucks, and I didn’t mean to, but I just didn’t get it, and I already told you that I was gonna make an effort in the next one.”
“I hope so. Algebra is pretty important after all. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about either…”
“Well, then, what is it? Would you please get to the point?”
“Alright, alright, don't make such a fuss, you don’t have to be ashamed of having a conversation with your mother.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So, anyway, what I wanted to talk about was your new girlfriend…”
Oh my, goodness, he thought. This just can’t be true. She’s not gonna start on me with sexual education. I mean, it’s not like I’m ignorant or something, or like we don’t talk about things at school. Well, not actually in class, but with the guys… and there are some hot chicks around there on the schoolyard. And the hottest one is mine, just as it should be.
“Well what? She’s hot, she likes me, everything’s fine.”
“Aren’t you a little too young to be talking of girls in terms of ‘hot’?”
“Nope, don’t think so.”
I won’t have that, her treating my like a five-year-old. There we go, plug back into the socket, and yeah, game back on the screen. Too bad I have to restart the whole sequence.
“Honey, I’m talking to you. I do not appreciate you playing at that game at the same time.”
“I’m listening alright, don’t you worry…”
Awesome, I got much better chances now than in the last game, he marvelled. So it wasn’t too bad after all that she interrupted the last one. I only wish she’d be done and go back to her stuff and leave me alone. Her chattering away is sort of distracting, even though I try my best to ignore it…
“… and I guess you did learn in biology where children come from. It was in the curriculum for last year, and I hope that you did not fail on that test. Anyway, you know, I do think you are a bit too young to sleep with the girl, but if you do it anyway – and I know you will not tell me if so – please be careful and take some precautions.”
“Yes, yes, alright, are we done now?”
“Yes, we are done. But maybe you should check your notes from last year’s biology class after all. From the way you reacted to what I said, I did not get the impression that you really know what I was talking about.”
“I’m fine, Mom, everything’s great, nothing to worry about. Would you now please leave me alone?”
“Yes, honey. By the way, we’ll have dinner in half an hour.”
Finally! He settled more comfortably in front of the screen. What the heck was that all about? Starts out wanting to talk about my girlfriend and then it’s about my grades after all. But why should I check last year’s notes? I mean, it’s not like we’re doing the same stuff this year. Kinda weird after all…

--- --- ---

fourth task - four haiku (due may 21):

Tune and a rhythm
and various instruments
can evoke feelings.

Time’s in a hurry
when I am not. And the clock
always just ticks on.

The perfect couple
when you see them on the street,
not at all at home.

the fourth one --> Haiku I in Metapoetry

--- --- ---

fifth task - declaration on why i am glad to be a woman (due may 28):

Glad to be a woman?

Should I be glad to be a woman?
Would I prefer to be a male?
Hermaphrodite’s another option:
I would have brains as well ‘s a ‘tail’.

Both sexes do have certain features
their members would not want to miss.
One should, therefore, before deciding
just have a look at what there is.

In terms of shoes I’d stay a female:
where guys have one pair, we have ten.
The bathroom also’s our dominion
though longer in there do take men.

Another point the female side makes:
it has a better sense of taste
and follows guidance from the head while
men follow things below their waist.

On top of this are females able
to do more ‘n one thing at a time,
and sex for them just keeps improving
while men lose power past their prime.

The stronger sex are men, supposedly –
a fact I doubt because they whine
when things don’t go just as they wish, and
when they’ve a cold, you’d think they’re dyin’.

They also have a kind of blindness
applying to the mess they make,
but wanting them to clean is tricky –
when asked to mop/sweep, their backs will ache.

The cause of all the many defects
characteristic of their sex
may be located in their genes, though:
Their Y’s just an imperfect X.

It would, however, be unfair to
present the sexes just like this.
Of course, a man does have some good sides:
when summer comes, the lead is his.

When girls are sweating in their t-shirts,
their male companions take off theirs,
and, thus, their tan will be quite spotless
while clothing’s marks the female bears.

And there’s another thing that I think
is enviable at any rate:
Though else they might be quite deficient,
they’re lucky: they don’t menstruate.

This list is far from being thorough:
in everything we do compete.
Hermaphrodite with all the good, though,
of either sex – that would be neat.

--- --- ---

sixth task - a villanelle (due june 04):

As a new door opens, we close the ones behind

“As a new door opens, we close the ones behind.”
A line heard in a song that once gave me a thrill.
We’re cutting off the past. There’s no chance to rewind.

Going through our mem’ries, we find them well aligned,
and – classified and ranged – unused our brains they fill.
As a new door opens, we close the ones behind.

Not anyone on earth keeps ev’rything in mind,
‘cause there are always things we suffer from until
we’re cutting off the past. There’s no chance to rewind.

Thoughts and mem’ries haunt us, but of them there’s a kind
that does not stick so that we shut it out at will.
As a new door opens, we close the ones behind.

A use of harmful thoughts is what we have to find.
If not, we must forget or they will make us ill.
We’re cutting off the past. There’s no chance to rewind.

We’re trying to move on, but memories can bind.
We have to throw them off. We have to pay our bill.
As a new door opens, we close the ones behind.
We’re cutting off the past. There’s no chance to rewind.

--- --- ---

seventh task - a "funny" ad (due june 11):

--- --- ---

eighth and nineth tasks - an ode and a biobibliography (due june 18):

Ode to the Internet

Thy riches furnish many treasures:
thou helpst us to communicate,
thou do’st not only feature pleasures
but offerst things to contemplate.

Thy contents can be quite exciting.
Thou art a hallmark of our times,
and when in need of aid with writing,
thou even helpst in finding rhymes.

Thou also offerst definitions
and untold knowledge when there’s need,
knowst cities, towns and their positions,
and all of this at highest speed.

But time-consuming are thy pages,
and thy attractions manifold.
From time to time some virus rages.
Thou art not easily controlled.

Thou keepst us from our work’s completion,
Thou do’st deflect without regret.
Thy contents often need deletion
which they, however, seldom get.

Thou offerst room for planning riots,
and fillst our mailboxes with spam,
and ads for diets, pills, devices,
but of thy offers, most are scam.

To many, thou art satisfaction,
while others do put up some guard.
Thou art a danger, art distraction,
but life without thee would be hard.

Who? Me? An exemplary university student: always busy and lacking sleep. I used to have time for sweet idleness once in a while, but in-between English, French, Latin, Classical Greek, discofox, salsa, ballroom dancing, riding my bike, inline skating, playing Frisbee, and badminton, there’s not much left of it.

--- --- ---

tenth task - an elegy (due june 25):


We were, as often, playing cards,
and though her words I heard,
I did the wrongest thing there was:
I didn’t say a word.

This last thing, I did not expect
it ever to be told.
She’d trusted me, she’d opened up.
She must have felt so cold.

Admittedly, I’d thought of this,
had hoped it wasn’t true.
And when she fin’ly voiced it, I
did not know what to do.

My mind went blank, a silence fell,
the cards came to a halt.
I hardly dared to look at her,
I did not move - a fault?

--- --- ---

eleventh task - a sonnet (due july 02):

Meant to be…?

There is this sudden heartbeat when we meet,
And I do think that you could be the one –
Your manner, and your smile that is so sweet…
The usual symptoms? There is more than one.

But are we meant to be a couple here and now?
Is there a romance to be watched unfurl?
I wish I knew just what you feel, or how –
‘cause me: I know I’d like to be your girl.

Is love at first sight really meant to be?
Or do I spoil it ‘cause I am too shy?
Should I just ask you, set my thinking free?
Don’t want to see my chance on you pass by.

So I keep hoping that you are the one –
But if you’re not? You know: Life will go on.

--- --- ---

twelth task - a cinquain and a rubaiyat (due july 09):

see Metapoetry

Verantwortlich für die Inhalte ist der Autor. Dein kostenloses Blog bei! Datenschutzerklärung