Journeys of the mind

Poetry
Where does your mind go 
When it's just wandering around?
What sights come forward?
What fragrances, what sounds?
 
Do you go backwards 
into times before?
Wish they were reality
As they once were. 
 
Or do you dream forward?
Wishes not yet met.
Make plans of their coming true.
How would it be if it was that?
 
How happy are you 
when your mind wanders off?
Does it journey into joy
or into anxiety or pain?
 
Journeys of the mind. 
Battles we fight.
No one else knows 
how hard is the strife.
 
Do you speak of your fears
With someone you trust
Or stay silent and conquer 
With self power alone?
 
Where does your mind go 
when it's just wandering around?
What sights come forward?
What fragrances, what sounds?

One night in Vienna

Poetry
It happens every night
but one night I was also there.
To see the magic of the lights
As they lit up the Cathedral square. 
 
After dark, when night had fallen,
in the forests and the mountains.
The city hums an enchanted air
under street lights and every corner.
 
Cars whizzed past to unknown places.
Their smoky tail-lights blazing red.
Buildings stand behind in their splendour
Electric blue or Grün or Gelb.


A magical city
The ancient Vindobona
And me, 
one night in Vienna.

Thought of the day

Poetry
Leave a sign behind
don't just go.
Without a trace that you were here.
Let that mark be, one of good.
Giving strength 
to all who come from far and near.
 
Leave thoughts that build.
Deeds done that inspire.
Be a force that binds,
those who are coming behind.
 
But if you can't do as above,
then gently go.
Quiet.
Without a sign.
Break not what you have not created
Create not that in turn will divide.
 
Tread your path.
As we each must do
(be it alone or together)
Let it lead towards the light
For darkness is not the path to follow.
 
 I'm preaching 
Yes, and I apologise!
These times are such.
With much food for thought.
 
When you see a world you love
Hurting and broken 
In turmoil so unjust.
The mind wonders what needs be done
Deeds that heal.
That 'humane' touch 

Choices

Poetry
In my mind,
in my hands,
is the power to create.
And the power to destroy.

What I choose to do
makes me the person I am.

Centuries after centuries
Cultures and religions
Languages spoken,
foods cooked and eaten.

In all relations,
do you make something?
Or leave something broken?

Call it good and evil.
Call it right and wrong.
Call it what you will.
But that’s the one truth,
that applies to us all.

Follow this principle
and you‘ll identify truth from false.

Who talks of growth,
upliftment,
and room for all?

Who talks of fear,
conspiracies
enemies in each unknown?

Choose wisely
and hold firm this single truth.
Inclusion wins.
As does good.

Tell me now
Which will you choose?

Thoughts while cooking

Poetry
As i stand in my kitchen,
cooking dinner for tonight.
Fresh and warm and nourishing,
comforting fragrant and so calming.

I think of women just like me.
Hiding underground, surrounded by family.
As above ring out the sirens.
Children cry in the darkness.

Whose is this war?
Why is it happening? 
So much power in one man‘s hands. 
What is man and what is mankind?

Rather what kind of man would cause this misery?
Is a man still a man if he goes against humanity? 

21 centuries and more in fact,
but civilization is still held hostage. 

Never learning, 
the biggest lesson learnt after invasions,
that a war solves few, 
if any, problems.
 
Dinner cooked, i check the seasoning,
thinking of people tonight going hungry. 
Brave people fighting to defend their country.
Heroes  every one of them. 

Honour goes to those who show bravery.
Those who build something, 
create peace and beauty.

Not to crazies wanting glory 
And destroying instead fragile humanity.

This addiction of mine

Poetry
I'm addicted to light. 
To colours and sounds.
The magic they play
Within and without.

I'm addicted to sunrises
Peaches and pinks
From snowy mountain tops
And deep quiet lakes.

When outdoors in nature,
and sunset light slants down.
Between trees so straight 
Growing up tall.

Or in big cities between buildings, 
this golden light falls.
Makes magic one moment,
then fades and is gone.

Mighty tall buildings
With glass windows that shine
To the light of the sun
and the street lamps at night.

The sounds of flowing water, 
birds twittering loud.
Hearing people’s laughter and talk.
It’s good to be alive 
To experience this all.

Walking amidst people
or on forest paths alone.
Immersed in the moment,
it’s sights, smells and sounds.

Addicted and lost
It's me that I found.