Day 1997, dream.
Daily picture, Poetrypsychology
Day 1996, today.
Daily picture, Poetry
I saw the sea today
when the wind moved a leaf
and I picked it up
Day 1995, surrounding.
Daily picture, Poetry
Judging the size of an object or thought
is much easier
if you know the sizes of the objects
or thoughts surrounding it.
Day 1994, going somewhere.
Daily picture, Poetry
Every path has a purpose
when you look back
Day 1993, I count.
Daily picture, Poetry
We stand with one foot in nature
and are also numbered
Day 1992, perspective.
Daily picture, Poetry
I wish I could change my perspective
by tilting my head
~
but our minds don’t fall for that trick
Day 1991, floating with the wind.
Daily picture, Poetry
There is not much
that is more fun
then blowing some bubbles
at the end of the day
Day 1990, conform.
Daily picture, Poetry
We all say
I am wiser than before
I conform to what I learned
even if it was wrong
I embrace it as a part of me
because I love myself
and my thoughts
~
I guess love is the main problem
in the world we live in
Day 1989, the question.
Daily picture
Day 1988, armless.
Daily picture
I like to look at the chickens in our garden. I like their behavior, they move like people do, but with no arms. They also move together, but don’t care for each other. Some wander off, but never to far. They act like they always starve, chasing sudden movements of a hand that points, in expectance. And most striking, they let it all go without care, even when they step in it, on their way back.
Day 1987, pride.
Daily picture, Poetry
There is a small part of you that I like
I don’t think you have ever seen it
it’s your pride
Day 1986, questions.
Daily picture
Just before
she lets it all go
she looked to reach
~
I don’t know if it was for the wind
to take her along
~
or in search for the edge
to fall off
~
or maybe climb on
Day 1985, still life.
Daily picture, Poetry
The sunset reflected on the wall
something prevented me
from looking to the end of the day
~
It was this seed
waiting fully grown
maybe for me
Day 1984, our web.
Daily picture, Poetry
Do we stand on our past?
With little effort, it supports us.
~
Or do we hang on it?
And feel it slowly slip away.
Day 1983, inside.
Daily picture, Poetry
I see you on the TV
in pieces
because he up there
seems to hate you
I always thought that we humans share our delight for emptiness and silence. Seeing a landscape while you drive trough the day, your mind goes silent and the noise of the engine disappears. I thought we share these moments, no matter who you are. So why is it that most people can’t bare the silence, and nothingness, that life is? Why does the silence and fastness, where you walk alone inside, be filled with structures, signs where to go, and not? Why don’t we appreciate the silence, and each other’s empty landscape?
Nochrisis 