Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


The happiness of both my ears,
was so contagious that day,
that this great news then quickly spread
through nose and eyes into my mind.
Straight to the pleasure gene at that!
I had misjudged the situation!
I would have thought, I should have been
not such a doubter of your love.

You'd made a scene, so full of scorn,
and scolded me, the infidel.
And intimated that I was
not really worthy, but your Gods
had just consented to relent
to blend some charity with love.
With so much luck I should be told
to search my soul and bow my head.
There were those issues, while unspoken
they smoldered by your pile of kindling,
they were your treasures for the future,
like trump cards up your well-starched sleeve.
I smelled a rat although I was
at a great loss to recognise
peculiar traits of any vermin.
I had not spent much time with them.
And was too young to know the dark.
And yet the feeling would not wither,
inspite of smiling re-assurance,
the air was laden with the hue
of colours unknown to the rainbow.
These soon were overpowered, yes
by sounds of serenading music,
it was as if a troubadesse
had suddenly become quite homeless.
And, ach, those loveliest of sounds,
the heartache flowing in D flat,
sweet little words, ich liebe dich,
and honeysuckle tears like rain,
that couldn't ooze their path down cheeks,
yet glistened so convincingly.
And what was I to make of this?
Wipe all the doubts with one sweet kiss?
That was expected, so it seems
as luck would have it, things unravelled
inside in stages of sad logic.
Was this a battle of the wits
or something one would not encounter
if he would feed convention's wolves?
The answer now originated
from happy ears who had suspected,
from eyes and nose who stuck a rider
onto the message for the mind.
Poor pleasure gene, your time will come,
we are you guardians, yours for life.

And so it was, when all the senses
could work together, unencumbered,
the stench was obvious and persistent,
allowing unobstructed vision.

And there you were, on centre stage
your colours dull, your hair so listless,
your lips were circles of defiance,
there was no sound, and thus, no lies.

Note: The personification of ears, eyes and nose is intentional.

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Comments (2)

Your work just keeps blowing my mind. I know that you must be published somewhere. Let me know kind Regards, Herbert, Theodora
A fascinating interplay. Well penned.