Keyword  Old age:

Grandpa undresses,

in underwear, he's fragile --

a shy boy again.

Opa kleedt zich uit,Opa zieht sich aus,
verlegen in ondergoed --schüchtern in Unterwäsche --
weer een jongetje.wieder ein Junge.

Gedicht S1055
De Koog, 0000-00-00
Yellow rope hair (Raoul de Jong) - 2020
Column "Geel touwhaar"

Collection: Inwardings 
Tribute to: De Jong, Raoul 

Zywa Delived

A peaceful view, the vase with a rose
another day passed, the curtain closed
bye parrot, you never sung any song
bye parrot, shut your eyes, the night is long

In the bathroom mirror I see
both who I was and who I am: a double me
I won't get well, and never healthy again
in my mouth the taste of amalgam
I don't enjoy meals, just give me a pill

Is anyone living in the clock on the tower?
it keeps on striking, hour after hour
and I ask myself: when will it stand still?

Gedicht 34
Amsterdam, 2005-10-01
Collection: Moons 

Zywa I still remember the grass

The grass, I do remember
the grass where you once lay
just smiling at my smile
now time is passing by
but your flowers still convey
their smells throughout the day
Are you coming soon, coming soon?

     It's easy here, you'll have your wish
     and I'll prepare your favourite dish
     Are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

This peaceful it can be
a couple under a tree
the hopping and the caw
of a busy jackdaw
while a pink balloon goes high
up through the orange sky
Are you coming soon, coming soon?

     It's easy here, you'll have your wish
     and I'll prepare your favourite dish
     Are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

The house cleaned-up, the papers read
I weigh the phone and go to bed
there is not much I have to tell
but I can listen very well
     Are you coming soon
     are you coming soon
     are you coming soon?
     Tea this afternoon?

Gedicht 68
Amsterdam, 2007-04-17
Don't leave home (Dido) - 2003
Song (Dido and Rollo Armstrong; album "Life for rent")

Collection: Untwisted 
Tribute to: Armstrong, Dido 

Zywa Vishnu's circle

My thick white naked
leg up, crooked

weak the flesh of my poorly muscled arm
the middle finger touching the top
of the big toe, a circle

an only just made contact with myself

These goings and the weary
increasingly the weary

of it all, not knowing where
with whom and when, but
anyway ever unnoticed

a turning point, passed

Gedicht 93
Train Nijmegen-Amsterdam, 2007-10-12
Collection: Moons 

My dear tree of birth,

we're just as old, just as bold --

but you're growing buds.

Mijn geboorteboom,Lieber Geburtsbaum,
wij zijn even oud en kaal --wir zwei sind gleich alt und kahl --
maar jij krijgt knoppen.doch du treibst Knospen.

Gedicht H0104
Julianadorp, 2011-12-24
Collection: Different times 

After the long walk

on the beach my legs are tired --

my eyes are tired too.

Mijn benen zijn moeSpaziergang am Strand,
van de lange wandeling --meine Beine sind müde --
en mijn ogen ook.meine Augen auch.

Gedicht S0043
Amsterdam, 2012-02-09
Collection: Life line 

The older you get,

the more past there is to share --

with fewer people.

Hoe ouder, hoe meerJe älter, desto
verleden om te delen --mehr Früher, und weniger --
met minder mensen.Menschen von damals.

Gedicht H0370
Amsterdam, 2012-10-22
Collection: From Sacred Scriptures [1] 

The leaves are fragile,

at the slightest they come off --

caution! breathe softly!

De blaadjes zijn teer,Die Blätter sind zart,
laten bij het minste los --lassen beim Geringsten los --
pas op! adem zacht.achtung! atme sanft!

Gedicht H0483
Amsterdam, 2013-06-27
Stoner (John Williams) - 0
In response to "Stoner" (1965, John Williams)

Collection: On living on [1] 
Tribute to: Williams, John 

Zywa The Elephant

Why have I suffered
woven all my tapestries
that have been disposed of
after a while
or otherwise, are decaying?

The cherry blossoms are falling
see how early they fall
they snow in the night
I would like to cry

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

Comthreads are swimming
across my eyes, my body
aches, I do not want anymore

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

I am the elephant
in the middle of my room
never mind, nothing is wrong!

    Where have the times gone
    when the tapestries were woven
    which are decaying?

The children are talking
softly past me, all together
at the same time

Gedicht 227
Amsterdam, 2014-04-12
Collection: Moons 

Zywa #old

I have felt old today
the food squeezes my gut
and the words slip away
out of my torn nets

With some ifs and buts
I can still participate
calmly and comfortably
riding in a sidecar

without philosofolly
or showing the way
only a joke if it works
Inside, I am collapsing

I often go for a pee
but nothing comes out
of my head and my hands
I have a chat with the neighbours

For me, no thick enjoyment
between golden bars
or sitting between
fate-fellows, waiting

for attention and the future
of acquaintances and family
I'm just tired, so
you shouldn't want anything from me

Gedicht 606
Amsterdam, 2016-03-28
Collection: Blown sand 

Zywa Nice to hear

Our daughter is concerned
if she has time
and as long as there is no need to

so I say enthusiastically
We went to the museum
     There I wondered

     is he thinking about life
     or the pigeon on the bare branch
     in the showcase with dry leaves?

     Is he perhaps dreaming
     of flying away?
     He just stood there

     as stuffed, his skin
     and lips are so white
     that I'm afraid

     to cook in the kitchen
     while he lays the table
     clumsily uncorks a bottle

     on his birthday as if
     he is doing it for the first time
     and then falls down

     without me hearing it
     a nice death
     they say

     that may well be
     but I already know
     that I'm not ready for it anyway

Nice mama, nice to hear
that you are doing well

Gedicht 1166
Amsterdam, 2017-03-09
Film "En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron"
Collection: Moons 

Zywa End of days

my future no longer is conceivable
tomorrow a repetition of today
hour upon hour the same day

whens actually no longer
exist, everything needs
to be done once more

my breath weaker
my blood slowly
my bowels upset

when the very last question
is why
do I still long
for what I don't experience anymore

when my memories just
loiter in the time
when everything was new
seeming endless

now it is a scary idea
to long constantly
for what I miss

Gedicht 1193
Amsterdam, 2017-03-11
Collection: Moons 

Zywa Mother's Day

There is quite some wind
the woman on the corner pulls her dog

She comes back again
for the rest an empty street, no visitors yet

The children do not call
there is no need to, if they come

for a good time, not being too busy
And there is no point

in saying anything about it
Maybe they are on the way

Could I have forgotten something?
The cookies are ready

the curtains are washed
there is no stain on my dress

Gedicht 1373
Amsterdam, 2017-05-23
Mother's Day (Marcel van Roosmalen) - 2017
Column "Moederdag" in, May 15th, 2017

Collection: Between where 
Tribute to: Van Roosmalen, Marcel 

Zywa Floodlight of time

In the last dark
before dawn, I am wandering
through the city, after the party

the sky is clear
I have no idea
what I would want

The river gliding past
along the empty quays, the roads
without traffic, silence

around the ancient monuments
everything wiped up neatly
In the museum palaces

are naked people
of marble and paint
the princesses play cards

in the basement of the servants
my steps resound
in the floodlight of time

Gedicht 1464
Amsterdam, 2017-07-31
The great beauty (Paolo Sorrentino) - 2013
Film "La grande bellezza"

Collection: Pending rain 
Tribute to: Sorrentino, Paolo 

Zywa Conga

Ich war jung, ich würde

große Schönheit erleben
auf Händen des Erfolgs, jetzt
gehe ich auf Wolken

aus elektrischem Licht
Glitzer und Bewunderung
und feiere meinen Ruhestand

im Himmel der Partys
Stern unter den Sternen
lächelnde schöne Leute

Perlen, Botultox und Gel
in mittelgrauem Haar, unermüdlich
im Maß des Kupfers

niemand muss auf die Toilette
wir schweben über den Betten
in die die Verzweiflung herumwälzt

für die Tage und Jahre
der gescheiterten Leben, und wir tanzen
die Conga, weil wir gehen

nirgendwo hin

Gedicht 2856
Amsterdam, 2017-07-31
The great beauty (Paolo Sorrentino) - 2013
Film "La grande bellezza"

Collection: Pending rain 
Tribute to: Sorrentino, Paolo 

Zywa Verloren

Während der Woche gehe ich abends
gelassen und verständnislos vorbei
an Fenstern von Menschen, die nicht wissen
dass sie verloren sind, dem Paar
das sich seit zehn Tagen küsst

überall wartende Leute und nirgendwo
finde ich die ganz große Schönheit
für die ich leben möchte, auf dem Weg
mein Wehmut zu teilen
und Erinnerungen an unsere Pläne

Wir alten Bekannten haben Spaß
mit gespielter Selbstgefälligkeit
einsam widmen wir uns dem herrlichen
Nichtstun, untereinander das Zentrum
von plaudernder Abwesenheit

Nach dem Abschied von den ersten Vögeln
fühle ich mich traurig und ungeeignet
für die Tage in hellem Licht
den Verfall unserer Leben außerhalb
der magischen Welt der Nacht

Gedicht 2857
Amsterdam, 2017-07-31
The great beauty (Paolo Sorrentino) - 2013
Film "La grande bellezza"

Collection: Pending rain 
Tribute to: Sorrentino, Paolo 

Gedicht 2192
Amsterdam, 2019-04-02
When his hair started to grey (Fazlul Huq) - 2019

Collection: Different times 
Tribute to: Huq, Fazlul 

Zywa Playing

I have become old
and I can only play
with my thoughts
the rest is too stiff

But don't be mistaken
it is pleasant to feel
in today's warm wind
what it is like

to stand on the jetty
in a thin dress, waiting
without the need
to do anything

but enjoy, flapping
in the sun, while I
can see now how
it all will continue

My crush and the child
who embraces my leg
the same child next to me
with her own child

on her arm, our feet
in the surf, breathing
one love, three women
with wild hair

just like on the mountain
where I throw up the ashes
into the world, that's how I play
my life together

Gedicht 2285
Amsterdam, 2019-06-19
Collection: Migration 

Gedicht 2683
Amsterdam, 2020-02-07
Simplicity-beauty - 0
Wabi-sabi (Japan): Simplicity-beauty
• consider the wear and tear as something beautiful
• accept the transience
• show the scars of life

Collection: Blown sand 
Dedicated to: Dory dK 

We arrive at night:

walls, grey and rough, shivering --

we start getting dressed.

Avonds zijn we er, 's:Abends sind wir da:
grauwruwe muren, rillend --grau-raue Mauern, zitternd --
kleden we ons aan.ziehen wir uns an.

Gedicht H2744
Amsterdam, 2020-06-21
(Adam and Eve)
Collection: From Sacred Scriptures [1] 

Zywa The forgotten in-between days

I've celebrated it
forty, fifty, sixty, the ten-
year steps of my life

have been preserved as memories
among the countless parties
of others, just like me

aging and remaining who they are
even though something starts
not to correspond in the mirror

When did that happen?
Was I present?
With my friends?

On forgotten in-between days?
When my hair thinned, my skin
weakened, and I became different

from how I feel – everywhere
where I touch myself
it is still familiar

I am ageless in life
with a deeply rooted pen
that wants to continue to enjoy

the taste of the deep
water, filtered through the earth
sunk from the present

Gedicht 3153
Amsterdam, 2020-08-30
Collection: The Yellow House Museum 

My eyes are blurry,

being old I am released --

from judging others.

Mijn oude ogenMeine Augen, alt
zien wazig, ze verlossen --und verschwommen, erlösen --
me van oordelen!mich vom Urteilen!

Gedicht H2803
Amsterdam, 2020-10-11
My eyes suddenly start to fail (Yaochen Mei) - 1060
Collection: Thinkles Lusionless 
Tribute to: Mei, Yaochen 

I'm old, I don't care

about immortality --

I want to be young!

Ik ben oud, ik maalIch bin alt, egal
niet om onsterfelijkheid --ist mir die Unsterblichkeit --
ik wil weer jong zijn!ich möchte jung sein!

Gedicht S1068
Amsterdam, 2020-10-11
Spring flowers bloom on Ge Hong hill (Mei Yuan) - 1780
Ge Hong is a Taoist philosopher from the first half of the fourth century who became immortal with his wife

Collection: Willegos 
Tribute to: Yuan, Mei 

Well, I do go grey.

So what? Isn't it just my hair?

Still not my ego?

Ik word grijs, nou en?Na, ich werde grau.
Het zijn toch mijn haren maar!Nur meine Haare, oder?
Toch niet mijn ego?Doch nicht mein Ego?

Gedicht H2826
Amsterdam, 2020-11-13
Circumstances (Koos van Zomeren) - 2020
Novel "Omstandigheden"

Collection: Actively Passive 
Tribute to: Van Zomeren, Koos 

I still like to walk,

but I'm old, I mostly look --

at the paving stones.

Ik wandel, ik benIch geh spazieren,
oud, daarom kijk ik vooral --ich bin alt, schaue meistens --
naar de stoeptegels.auf den Bürgersteig.

Gedicht H2827
Amsterdam, 2020-11-13
Circumstances (Koos van Zomeren) - 2020
Novel "Omstandigheden"

Collection: Actively Passive 
Tribute to: Van Zomeren, Koos 

An old feeling, eight

hundred and twelve I would be --

if it were still there.

Een oud gevoel, acht-Ein altes Gefühl,
honderdtwaalf jaar zou ik zijn --ich wäre achthundertzwölf --
als het nog bestond.wenn's das noch gäbe.

Gedicht H2844
Amsterdam, 2020-12-06
No One Writes to the Colonel (Gabriel García Márquez) - 1961
Novella "El colonel no tiene quién le escriba"

Collection: Glimpsed 
Tribute to: Garcia Marquez, Gabriel 

I still have some drives,

I still have some memories --

I still have some life in me.

Nog wat begeertes,Ein wenig Begehr,
nog wat herinneringen --ein wenig Erinnerung --
nog wat in leven.ein wenig Leben.

Gedicht H2922
Amsterdam, 2021-03-24
Old Filth (Jane Gardam) - 2004

Collection: Shelter 
Tribute to: Gardam, Jane 

Grandma is doing

her best to help, everywhere --

she stands in our way.

Oma doet haar bestOma bemüht sich
om te helpen, overal --mit zu helfen, überall --
loopt ze in de weg.geht sie uns im Weg.

Gedicht S1170
Amsterdam, 2021-05-07
One Hundred Years of Solitude (Gabriel García Márquez) - 1967
Novel "Cien años de soledad"

Collection: After the festivities 
Tribute to: Garcia Marquez, Gabriel 

Zywa Gentle wind

Other people's wind blows
along your house and my house
with old songs that we hum
when sweeping the floor

We look at Déjà vu
once more and we dance
in thoughts, in real life
we are off the map

My breath is precious, every minute
twelve times pain and misery
twelve times the gentle wind
that conforms, that snuggles up

against the busy people
as a knowledge that we exist --
a reaching embrace
with always thinner kisses

Gedicht 3842
Amsterdam, 2021-06-14
Eleanor Rigby (The Beatles) - 1966
Song (album "Revolver")
Ballet "Déjà Vu" (1995, Hans van Manen)

Collection: Lilith's Powers 
Tribute to: McCartney, Paul 
Tribute to: The Beatles 
Composer: McCartney, Paul 

I am not ugly,

my ruptures and shortcomings --

are worth a lifetime.

Ik ben niet lelijk,Ich bin nicht hässlich,
mijn scheuren en gebreken --meine Risse und Fehler --
zijn een leven waard.sind ein Leben wert.

Gedicht H3014
Amsterdam, 2021-08-16
Human wabi-sabi (acceptance of impermanence and imperfection)
Wabi = feeling miserable and lonely, remote from society
Sabi = old age, decay, withering

Collection: On living on [1] 

Oh, I'm really old,

as old as my behaviour --

so tired of waiting.

Och, ik ben al oud,Oh, ich bin schon alt,
zo oud als ik me gedraag --so alt, wie ich mich benimm:
zó het wachten moe.müde, zu warten.

Gedicht S1216
Amsterdam, 2021-08-17
The Red and the Green (Iris Murdoch) - 1965

Collection: Unspoken 

Zywa Older than I am

I do know it is me
that woman I don't know
that friendly but strange

face, which is also on photos
with a wide mouth, with folds
crow's feet and high temples

that do not match, not with me
not with my hands, that eagerly
touch life

Only the eyes of others
are used to the mask
that I cannot take off

Even my own sister
is not surprised, she knows me
older than I am

Gedicht 3949
Amsterdam, 2021-09-24
Collection: Metamorphic body 

Zywa My #eot

The sky is burning, mists
push forward, the signs tilt down --
Everyone lives longer

than the world in which he grew up
He has to withdraw
or change

The watchtower is unmanned
dogs whine in the distance
This city may no longer exist

as it was, its theaters
have been declared unnecessary
The last players watch

but now it is real
they find it difficult to enjoy
the beauty of the downfall

that, since hundreds of generations
has been flattening glorious empires
to heroic stories

Who will, without self-interest
sing the praises of the good
that I have known?

Gedicht 4088
Amsterdam, 2021-11-01
Sunset on the Railway (Edward Hopper) - 1929

Collection: Between where 
Tribute to: Hopper, Edward 

KeywordsSearch word:  CTRL-F5-7-5