I Dream the Dreams of Shepherds
I dream the dreams of shepherds
Their yearnings are mine
I long the longings of peasants
Wandering south of the Rhine.
Walking amid scented almonds
Across groves and vineyards
I remember unknown places
Far off the crowded boulevards.
I travel with sailors and strangers
Gazing at clusters of stars
Under the silhouette of Etna
Sirocco strikes sails on spars.
The mind includes the excluded
The view contains the viewer
I am the fisherman’s boat
An ivory cloud, blue flower.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Teddy Bear
Modern teddy bear
My cyber teddy bear
Your walk
Is clumsy
And your fur
Polyester
But the battery
In your heart
Is real and solid
Like the soldered
Lead lid of coffins.
When I was a child
You were different.
A little worn out
And soft you sat
Obediently
Next to the pillow
On my bed,
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Vanilla Gate
Come sweet Red Flower and enter my life
through the vanilla gate of fate.
Hold my hand Red Flower and walk with me
in green fields of grass and tranquillity.
Let us climb together snow-capped mountains
in a fiery sunrise of passion.
Let me kiss your graceful mouth when the wind rustles
among the leaves of apricot blossoms.
Let my lips wander onto hidden places amid orange trees
and citrus fragrance praised by bird songs.
Magic rainbows adorn the night sky
diamond stars strew strawberry sparks on our embrace.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Garden of Questions
Begetting burdensome outcomes,
Remember quiet qualms clad in benumbed bandage.
Let the clandestine rejoinders boil on a heyday of blossoms;
Let them rise in a fiery fury in thunder of rage.
And then,
While the silky lens of molten music
Refracts the colours of life in trance,
The muses distil the soul; remove the chains of heart,
Empower and lead the dance.
Now your memory renders the train of events.
Look:
A poet is strolling slowly
Through the garden of questions that are hidden
Under the viscous veil of answers.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Absolute Irony
'The universe
is a mysterious place',
the poet said.
'There might exist
other worlds wherein
the laws of nature
are different from ours.'
'No', the engineer said,
'in a vacuum
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poem by Paul Hartal
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The Crocodile That Ate Computers
There once was a cute crocodile
He lived happily in the River Nile
He liked the river a lot and its fish
Was really his favourite daily dish.
Since school was less his favourite
He remained for a long time illiterate
How to catch fish though he knew
Albeit his days in class were very few.
But a good tutor taught him math
A genius and polymath
The teacher earnest, tried his best
Explained everything with great zest.
Yet his student was always hungry
He could listen only hardly
Once he swallowed two computers
And found tasty all the numbers.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Goat Convention
The goats held a convention.
“We want liberation! ”
They bleated boldly.
“I want to hear concrete suggestions”,
Advised the chairman gently.
“And tabula rasa”, he added.
The result, however,
Was only a long and silent pause.
Eventually though one goat rose
To say something.
He cleared his throat
And valiantly addressed the assembly:
“Our liberation and the struggle
To achieve equal rights go hand in hand.
So, in view of the fact
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Homage to Matsuo Basho
Descendant of a samurai family
Page and friend of the son
Of the Lord of Iga Province
Great haiku poet
Creator of word pictures
In seventeen syllables
Matsuo Basho
I salute you.
Lover of plum blossom fragrance
Of thin layers of mist
The rising sun
On the mountain path
And the pristine elegance
Of the rice planting song
Matsuo Basho
Are you still on the road
From the monastery
On Mount Koya
To Kyoto?
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poem by Paul Hartal
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Listen Darling
Darkened by whirling giant black holes
The night winks with thousand shiny eyes:
Listen Darling
To my song
Love me fast
And love me long.
The Milky Way plays the flute of summer
A celestial melody carries the wind:
Listen Darling
To my song
Love me fast
And love me long.
Amour’s flames are yellow dandelions
Orange blossoms, violets, red thistles:
Listen Darling
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poem by Paul Hartal
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How the Revolution Started
The bearded amoeba
Quietly smoked his pipe.
The servant came in
And said:
The crocodile is ready
But the president cannot make today
The apple pie.
The bearded amoeba
Quietly smoked his pipe.
Yes, the dentist is in Venice
To make the root canal,
The servant said.
The crocodile was looking
At the sky.
Then suddenly
An angry cat
Began to puff and pant.
[...] Read more
poem by Paul Hartal
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