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Makes Eagle Feathers Dance (by jens kuestner)
Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I cherish you. Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I need you.
Do you recall that night when I did not see any Buffalo? I could not find any, I did not hunt. That’s my sore point, I thought that day. But You held me tight and told me to keep Watching.
Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I cherish you. Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I need you.
I take out my ceremonial pipe and light it up. The smoke rises and it reminds me of your Hair. I can see my vision. I can see clearly Now. It is right in front of me.
Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I cherish you. Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I need you.
I can see the buffalo now! They are right in Front of me.
Makes Eagle Feathers Dance, I love you.
The First Woman (love poems on a train, no. 5, by jens kuestner)
There is a grace about her when she walks,
As if her body was made to be drawn.
A perfect piece of art, I find.
The first woman to be worshipped by a man.
Her outward beauty pairs with inner strength,
Grandeur, passion, and nobility of mind.
Some big words here, but when I look at her
Words fail me.
I savour the moment and remain silent.
It (love poems on a train, no. 4, by jens kuestner
It is having coffee with you in the morning and Having coffee with someone else just isn’t the Same as having it with you.
It is knowing you’ll get your well-deserved sleep And letting you rest from the day’s sorrows.
It is holding you because you just deserve to be Sheltered when bad times have a go at us.
…
And if I had not…and had I but…
You fool! Had you but known that It cannot be Found so easily. And you, jumping from rock to Rock, delude yourself and cannot find what you’re Looking for.
…
It is fainthearted, fragile and often hard to find.
So glad I made this choice. I shall never take It for Granted.
Count Me in (love poems on a train, no. 3, by jens kuestner)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
No, I won’t. I can do without Browning, famous yet Simply too weak to echo the way we feel right now.
Ticket control is coming up. Somebody is Counting the passengers.
Remember that night when we were just lying There watching the moon and counting the stars? We held our breath, too overwhelmed to speak. These are the moments when I know it is so right To be with you. Count me in, my love.
Having reached the station, I close my sketchbook And get off the train with a confident sigh.
Steady as We Go (love poems on a train, no. 2, by jens kuestner)
So here we are tonight,
Together and unspeakably happy.
It is the beginning of something that is so much Bigger than me.
I observe you and realise your hopes, your fears, Your desires.
Rest your heart, my love. I’ll keep you steady as we Go.
Getting to Know You (love poems on a train, no. 1, by jens kuestner)
A single smile on your face, and that look, both Curious yet cautious, makes me want to know You.
Your willingness to live and laugh, and that silence When you just listen makes me want to hold you.
Your honest heart you proved when your tears Dropped silently makes me want to love you.
In loving you I lose myself and find myself again.
The Cruelest Thing (by jens kuestner)
Having to watch you standing there and knowing That you’re dying to try but just can’t, is probably The cruelest thing
To me. I know I can do it. I’m dying to try
But very soon I have to stop trying.
poetry
“A poem is a place where the conditions of beyondness and withinness are made palpable, where to imagine is to feel what it is like to be. It allows us to have the life we are denied because we are too busy living.” Mark Strand (On Becoming a Poet, in: “The Making of a Poem. A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms”, p. xxiv).
