Landscapes of my querying thoughts E-Book

Lorenz Filius

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Seitenzahl: 238

Beschreibung

This collection contains L. Filius' English poetry works from 2010-2013 in one book. The previous published titles 'Dialogue With A Rose', 'In Between My Blues And Blue', 'Winter Time Philosophies' and 'From Silence To Philosophy' are characterized partly by Filius' philosophic views, partly by his romantic inspirations. The author tells about scenes and figures within his querying thoughts. By means of many-faceted verses he points unambiguity out as well as figurative and abstract ideas. - Read, feel and intuit poetic clues.

Leseprobe

This collection contains Lorenz Filius‘ previous published poetry works

Dialogue With A Rose

In Between My Blues and Blue

Winter Time Philosophies

From Silence To Philosophy

-

Life is not romantic, is it? Well, indeed there are thousands of reasons that obviously support this statement. And yet, there’s something in us that makes us laugh and cry, something that simply moves us now and then without an evidence of reason. Our moods are often ruled by real life and sometimes just by that, what is inside of us – the deepest soul. That is what I call the origin of romanticism. Our soul contains all the hope, love and views that seem to have got lost since mankind’s arrival on earth. But it’s still there – we only need to believe.

Table of Contents

Dialogue With A Rose: Lorenz Filius

Game of life

Love is just a ware

Voyage of hope

Clock of life

The last dove

Beached

The violinist

Nostalgic

Voices

The baby

Free your mind

Traces

An angel’s kiss

Blossoms of life

Four seasons

Springtime lethargy

Honourable

Who am I?

Open End

Rotten

Complacency

The pianist

Spring

Multiple

Candlelight dinner

Ice flowers

Coin

Dear Mom

Lunatic

Mimes

Blow of fate

Future is a rumour

What you believe

Who cares

Cellar people

Real friendship

Colours

Feast of peacefulness

A dream of truth

Protected

Autumn’s misery

Beloved Jade

Hypersensitivity

Glory

The stranger

Not to live

Unwritten

Dialogue with a rose

Sin

Prayer for childlikeness

The first day

How to show

Momentary stay

Tender touch

Created peace

Child’s tradition

Better life

Fortune

Final flames

Leaves of thoughts

Dark skies

The little death

A writer’s goodbye

Mainstream’s voice

Trails

Four-wheeled chair

Modern kites

To love life

About to break

Greenhorns

Money

The refuge

Brainwashed

I will be

Silhouette

Different kind of future

Do you remember

Faithful souls

Medical masters

Cold syllables

Genius

Before and after

The charming house

Shed dreams

Sleeping love

If I had a father

A life

A spoilt heart

Species

The player

A sad exchange

Spiritual kinship

Wealthy games

Being a child

What we know

Robot Robert

Train of life

Thoughts in a hall

What remains

My time

The kiss

Leave your day

On the run

You and I

Autumn rendezvous

The painter

Mirrors without notions

Explosive

Masses

The power of ideas

Little teddy

Ghost light

Intuition

In the pub

Santa bunny

A mood’s remorse

Destination

Cornwall

Apart from truth

Daddy, tell

Unfinished letter

Without words

Animal charm

Cloud nine

Net crawler

Artificial light

Grapes

The rover

Visionaries

Coated

Cause and effect

Hazy

Resistance

Of importance

Condolence

Locked in space and time

Rainbow

Ancestors

Change of life

Moods

Where questions start

Lost continuum

Not a kind of fiction

Shadow hunter (The Sun)

Near death

Out of a hole

Holding on

Red

Cooling love

A wrong sentence

Appealing hearts

Blinded dawning

Call of spring

The last light

Carefree toadies

Butterfly’s last dance

Children in exile

Collector

Distraction

Divine

Night and day

Misplaced pity

Ring around the finger

Circles

In Between My Blues and Blue: Lorenz Filius

Blues

Clawing at the blue

Past days

Profitless loot

Traceless

A boring movie

Internet-loners

The cockroach

Some doses more

Inanimate love

A junkie’s life

Mausoleum

Homeless far below

End time

Earthquake

Shady empathy

Pandora’s Box of thoughts

Just a tradition

Spinning seasons

Sophisticated

Panic attack

I fall in love

Spring break I

Spring break II

Big dreams

Lilac

Bubbles

Europe

Life time cliff

Envelope of love

Renewal

A waiting lovers’ spring

Morning star

Beauty of the moment

I lost my heart

Rendezvous in Paris

Round the corner

Flemish flair

Tea light

Weckman

In Between

Steps

Why

Melting pot

Philosophers

Past away

Innocence

Behold

Coffee afternoon

Web paranoia

Famous

Picture and window

Relevance

The lost son

Who are you?

Hour glass

No man’s land

Fairies

New life

Sense promoter

Fact of art

Ghostlike

Always tired

No but still

The giant

Self made universe

Heart in blue light

Where time lives

Mourning friends

The lake inside

The actress

Morning moon

Moving

Out of sight

Annual fight

Time nomads

Lamppost

Recurrence

Lonely invention

One and only

Sheep and herder

Ten years later

In glasses

Street fog

Stream of time

Track of destiny

Claims

Still December

Winter conscience

Senile

The butch

People-weather

I cannot

Misplaced

City buzz

Signals

Autumn mazes

German fir

Traffic lights

Annual bottleneck

De-flashed ken

Collapsed in relativity

Still in between

Wintertime Philosophies: Lorenz Filius

A model

Winter cheeks

A riddle …

Naught believers

Mankind

Srebrenica

Albatross

Pulse in coldness

Dark energy

Freak-out-teens

Writing on the wall

Serious serenity

Birthdays

Accidental tail

Spirit's voice

Mental din

Too late

Offset

Autumn rose

Wrong wakeup

Liberated blood

Musing as endurance run

Huddling Christmas lust

Crisis Clowns

Helper syndrome

Question tags

Nurse

Who ever

Memory of a rendezvous

In the loop

Donkey wonder

Compromises

Buried time

Change of signs

Your child is calling

TV-brainwashed pets

Master's voice

Shadow dance

On the go

An unfound heart

Pointed hat weather manikin

No response

Streams

Dimensions

Days off the peg

Last orphan

In search of Christmas

Entotic murmur

Not just a pall

Divided by x

Garden of love

Not to fear

It will so happen

Counting trees

Consternation

When the year is won

Poor spirit

Between tranquillity and rush

Just a guest

Moments vs. progress

Underground

Up and away

Rules

Walking, watching, talking

Bitty silk

Late year's gold

Time prevails

Art of living

... The riddle's solution

From Silence to Philosophy: Lorenz Filius

Silent moods

A heart may tap

Good hearts

Speechless

On the swing

Little white rose

In between despair

In a different world

Let me go

Winter dawn

Manifestation

Carried off

In good company

Peace of swans

Snapshot of fate

Into the yellow

Yellow shine

Non embattled light

Christmas feeling

The magic stays

Smile of Valentine

Sunsets

Shrouded sunsets

A lost smile

Drifting higher

Mirrored life

Final way

Sun tristesse

Miracle of mind

You're there

Beyond the day

The idyll shouts

Magic moon

Outback

Last dance

The unknown

Nightly rainbow

Spider-light

Querying moods

Noon time owl

Human bacteria

The fault

Cold wicks

Limp

Doomsday

Self censorship

He's thinking

Gossip

Are so many

Reaching claw

Fair trade

Ghost queen

Freaks

Beyond our chest

Doomsday in my head

Charisma

Power kids

Stop pollution

Housewife's jeep

No name warriors

Pappy Christmas

Hidden dirt

Lifeless square

Strange prodigy

Debris for everyone

Jumps

Evil liberators

Crisis' luck

Control

Shallow face to face

Philosophic moods

Dizzy

Exposure

What exists

Something moans

Grazing lights

Shadow grids

Tail of a star

A nightly wink

Easy living

Phages

Against the stream

Songs and melodies

From long ago

Border crosser

I am the light

Sucked up

Lost art

Not online

Unexpected catastrophes

Life - The mighty barrier

Roundabouts

What matches

Calm and blow

Accidental tail

Beyond the bridges

Elements

Over ground

Godspeed

Masquerade of life

Seagull's call

Beings day by day

Irreversible

Property's freedom

Misunderstanding

Collected days

Weeping willow

Beyond the chance

Hypocrites

Maverick

Instinct

Somewhat sense

Cacti

Inside me and us

Way out

Lorenz Filius

Dialogue With A Rose

A Poet’s Romantic View Of Life

© Lorenz Filius 2010

Special Edition

Filius, Lorenz: Dialogue With A Rose

© Lorenz Filius

First published 2010

Table of contents

Game of life

Love is just a ware

Voyage of hope

Clock of life

The last dove

Beached

The violinist

Nostalgic

Voices

The baby

Free your mind

Traces

An angel’s kiss

Blossoms of life

Four seasons

Springtime lethargy

Honourable

Who am I?

Open End

Rotten

Complacency

The pianist

Spring

Multiple

Candlelight dinner

Ice flowers

Coin

Dear Mom

Lunatic

Mimes

Blow of fate

Future is a rumour

What you believe

Who cares

Cellar people

Real friendship

Colours

Feast of peacefulness

A dream of truth

Protected

Autumn’s misery

Beloved Jade

Hypersensitivity

Glory

The stranger

Not to live

Unwritten

Dialogue with a rose

Sin

Prayer for childlikeness

The first day

How to show

Momentary stay

Tender touch

Created peace

Child’s tradition

Better life

Fortune

Final flames

Leaves of thoughts

Dark skies

The little death

A writer’s goodbye

Mainstream’s voice

Trails

Four-wheeled chair

Modern kites

To love life

About to break

Greenhorns

Money

The refuge

Brainwashed

I will be

Silhouette

Different kind of future

Do you remember

Faithful souls

Medical masters

Cold syllables

Genius

Before and after

The charming house

Shed dreams

Sleeping love

If I had a father

A life

A spoilt heart

Species

The player

A sad exchange

Spiritual kinship

Wealthy games

Being a child

What we know

Robot Robert

Train of life

Thoughts in a hall

What remains

My time

The kiss

Leave your day

On the run

You and I

Autumn rendezvous

The painter

Mirrors without notions

Explosive

Masses

The power of ideas

Little teddy

Ghost light

Intuition

In the pub

Santa bunny

A mood’s remorse

Destination

Cornwall

Apart from truth

Daddy, tell

Unfinished letter

Without words

Animal charm

Cloud nine

Net crawler

Artificial light

Grapes

The rover

Visionaries

Coated

Cause and effect

Hazy

Resistance

Of importance

Condolence

Locked in space and time

Rainbow

Ancestors

Change of life

Moods

Where questions start

Lost continuum

Not a kind of fiction

Shadow hunter (The Sun)

Near death

Out of a hole

Holding on

Red

Cooling love

A wrong sentence

Appealing hearts

Blinded dawning

Call of spring

The last light

Carefree toadies

Butterfly’s last dance

Children in exile

Collector

Distraction

Divine

Night and day

Misplaced pity

Ring around the finger

Circles

Game of life

Children play the game of life,

serious is what they do,

logic every word they say,

and their truth is really true.

Adults think their kids are neat,

and ideas they laugh about

entertain but cannot rule,

even if it makes them proud.

But this dignity is odd

as a mixture in disguise;

parents often take for fun

what’s supposed to be so wise.

And the questions they are asked,

written in a little face,

are responded behind masks:

game of life becomes a maze.

Love is just a ware

Love is just a ware,

to love, is hard to dare;

available or taken,

the free ones do not care.

Bound and free again,

each hand picks up a man;

and if he’s in the middle,

he does what women can.

Marriage makes glad,

‘for ages married’ sad;

and in between, just waiting,

the children’s newest dad.

How priceless is a kiss

if lips and eyes dismiss?

To brag about your dating,

a need that love can’t miss.

Voyage of hope

A child’s imaginations let

warm up the freezing in its bed;

a ship is waiting in the night,

tomorrow’s land is out of sight.

The darkness cold, no final kiss,

the eyes are closed and hope for bliss;

but not to fall asleep too soon,

the ship would fade without a boon.

The boat invites the little child,

it feels protection, which is mild,

the day before, a foreign land,

with cries and questions that were damned.

The destination is not clear

but far away from daily fear;

it never joins the fairy tales

because the tiredness prevails.

Then hope will carry home the truth

through minutes that have tried to soothe;

and when the next day will have gone,

the journey will be going on.

Clock of life

The dial of the clock of life

counts days like seconds of our time;

a lack of present, very rife,

somewhere a past that isn’t mine.

Experiences of the past,

a piece of time and nothing more;

if filled or empty, they will last

as memories we’re living for.

As timeless as they are, they race

ahead and ride on clock-hand’s tip;

picks up the seconds from their place,

each one, successor’s early pip.

Time flies, but yet there is enough

to see throughout the memories

that ‘why we cry or why we laugh’

is a result of past’s release.

The last dove

Once I found a little dove,

hidden in a small recess,

liked to throw it high above

all emotions of distress.

But it said to me: Don’t dare,

I’m the last one of my kind,

and I have to be aware

that the black birds always mind.

You, who own the purest white,

could reflect the smallest hope,

reinforce the rest of light

that a black bird cannot cope.

Yes, I know, but what if not;

if I lose the final game,

then the world will start to rot,

and my white won’t be the same.

It has rotten all the way,

there is nothing you could lose,

but your white will just decay

if you fear for polished shoes.

And the dove released its wings,

left a feather as a pawn,

and the bravest of all kings

kept on fighting until dawn.

Beached

A seagull sings a gloomy tune,

a silent death behind the dune,

a tortured cry that dies onshore,

that’s one of nature’s biggest sore.

An enemy, which was a friend,

the cruel evaporating wind,

their faces, wearied by the ban,

look in despair to helping men.

A final movement of the fin,

the breath is weak and cannot win,

the glory of all oceans’ seed,

a monstrous piece of dying meat.

The sea engulfs the seagull’s song,

the jauntiness of oceans, gone,

the future keeps some fairy-tales

about the long forgotten whales.

The violinist

Snuggling and so concentrated,

paused in deep intimacy,

barely dared, the stroke is fated,

tone ingrained in harmony.

You’re caressing soft vibration,

kiss of bow returns to you,

strings are hard, but their elation

makes a fancier’s dream come true.

Knack of love-play in your motion,

flowing grace lies in your arm;

only vague can be a notion

how you feel the inner charm.

Eyes of tenderness can waken

tales about your instrument;

we just hear what you have taken,

given by its compliment.

Soon the final stroke is finished,

but the secret will live on,

and your love won’t be diminished

when the melody is gone.

Nostalgic

Years ago in black and white,

still nostalgic in my mind,

stories, full of actors’ pride,

won’t find any of their kind.

Action had romantic flair,

and romances moved my heart,

felt for heroes in despair,

cried when lovers fell apart.

And the pictures spoke to me,

great impressions on my screen,

colours in my fantasy,

colours that could not be seen.

Tricks and gimmicks, just some tools

to fulfil the wildest dreams;

nowadays illusion rules

made by digital machines.

What can sell a fake as truth

if not passionate ideas?

Cinema has lost its youth

since the stars’ first coloured tears.

Voices

Daily plagued by prating voices,

try to undermine my peace,

concentration has no choices,

pain, each word of this disease.

Nagging, ripping sound that fazes,

chat cuts rifts into the day;

if I try to fill the spaces,

rests of quietness will decay.

Voices show me ways of living,

knowing what is good for me;

they mean well but aren’t forgiving

if they see that I feel free.

Breaking like the waves in oceans,

voices flood my spirit’s land;

carry foam of their emotions

that will choke each wisdom-plant.

Sudden death of voices eases

tortured nerves that charged my brain;

if again the sound increases

- without noise -, I’ll go insane.

The baby

Smallest face is watching me,

feels the truth without a sense,

sees a world that I can’t see,

every signal is intense.

Points with fingers at my smile,

then its own one starts to try;

glimpse, amazed, it stays a while,

just a moment passing by.

Eyes that keep on wandering

far away beyond my face

look as if they’re pondering;

they return to find their place.

Thousand questions without aim,

written in its countenance;

urged reflexes that will claim

power of my competence.

Free your mind

I take a walk,

and all my sorrow stays at home;

I want to talk,

just to myself, I’m not alone.

A world appears,

and it has space enough to bloom;

some lucky tears

that flush away the mighty gloom.

I free my mind,

each step stamps down my golden weed

that made me blind

to see the longing of my seed.

Then I return,

I’m guided by the light of life;

the trash will burn,

and I can give myself high five.

Traces

I’m standing on a marketplace,

surrounded by the fleeting crowd,

and odours flow from space to space,

they carry sounds, some weak, some loud.

I watch a scene of thousand roles,

so independent seems each play,

they run behind their crossing goals,

I wonder how they’ll find their way.

The eyes look busily ahead

in areas of density;

their moods, if happy or if sad,

are secrets of their destiny.

The human trace they leave behind

is nothing but a path on stone;

just passing by, I never mind:

Each heartbeat is a living tone.

As they diverge to leave the stage,

as lonesome as they were before,

sometimes I catch a view of rage,

a smile or see a bleeding sore.

The place is empty and they’re gone,

the smack of life is cleaned by air;

the bubbles, burst, and one by one

leaves bubble-makers in despair.

An angel’s kiss

Your lips are smiling but don’t speak,

your eyes are closed, your breath is weak,

an expectation in your face,

not greedy, only full of grace.

I’ve never dared to touch your skin,

to kiss an angel, might be sin,

but now I lie so close to you,

I do what feelings want me to.

A tender touch from lips to cheek

makes my resistance oh so weak,

and when they find their complements,

I sense the waves your body sends.

Your arms are opened and invite,

I follow, and you hold me tight,

so, my response to your request

lets float our hearts from chest to chest.

Blossoms of life

In search of blossoms of my life

I walked across an open field

and found that nothing could survive;

the chances lapsed without a yield.

A rest of colours I have begged,

despaired attempts to cure what’s limp;

with pain my faded scars reflect:

The past and me, we cannot primp.

So, I don’t want to dung what’s gone,

tomorrow smudged by yesterday;

results are thoughts that might be wrong,

with hope and lies just for today.

A dream of fields behind my eyes,

where beauty lives in consciousness;

the ground is aged but still supplies

my search for goals with fruitiness.

Four seasons

Rain is pouring down;

in streams of drenching glitter

no wings that try to flitter

to colour autumn’s gown.

Snowflakes, passing by;

a fairy-tale is sitting

on each of them – submitting

a winter lullaby.

Clouds are playing tag,

the sunbeams, cut by shadows,

will warm up fields and meadows;

winds of spring will lag.

Freedom meets the blue;

the sun is kissing flowers,

refreshed by summer showers;

do, what dreamers do.

Springtime lethargy

Winter is not over yet,

summer, oh, so far away,

spring is lying in its bed,

years of autumn seem to stay.

Nothing forward, nothing backward -

someone fools your weak sensation;

strangling roots of unimportance

will not free your motivation.

Shall I work or shall I wait?

Working now - the hardest task,

for a nap it is too late;

in which feeling should I bask?

Here and now, your life is waiting,

doesn’t like to make excuses;

alibis won’t be forgiven,

time will take what sloth refuses.

Honourable

A great idea to help the whales,

to fight the wars, to stop the sales;

respectable to do good deeds,

to damn self-praise, to kill the weeds.

Invited to fulfil the dream

is anyone who wants to clean

his secret life behind his light

to keep his front end shining bright.

So, welcome are the others, too,

as long as they don’t have a clue;

their altruistic fairy-tale

prevents the hypocrites from jail.

Just bring your heart into effect,

but not your soul - you can neglect;

a damaged spirit can’t be healed,

a broken heart can be a shield.

Who am I?

My body is my boss,

it’s told me all the time,

the reason for my loss;

there’s nothing that is mine.

But who am I if not

the one in this disease;

a damned dependent blot,

an unsuccessful tease?

It’s true that I feel weak

because of heavy pain;

thoughts, undiscovered, leak

from wounds within my brain.

And yet, despite my fall,

although my body dies,

I sense a silent call

that doesn’t cut all ties.

I cannot feel its name,

which fills an asking hole

and is about to claim

my life to feed my soul.

Open end

A one-way ticket in my hand,

I walk along an empty road,

will lead me to an open end,

my life is like a drifting float.

No aim ahead; just scattering wind

is pushing me to lay my track;

in search of any little hint,

I’m going home but never back.

Not good enough what I have found,

no doubt, I have to take the blame;

the fact that nothing can astound

is just my life and not a shame.

Rotten

Listen to the forest,

hear the choir of the trees;

draughty voices, singing

tales of times without disease.

Watch the youngest flowers,

see uneasy smiles of blooms;

when the sun is shining,

they can’t hide their rotten tombs.

Taste the air at sunrise,

smell the poison in disguise;

morning boasts of coolness,

seems to be a kind of spice.

Feel the foaming river,

and enjoy the softest sludge;

all you have polluted

will be mankind’s final judge.

Complacency

The days are numbered, nothing counts,

a shooting-star in silent eyes,

and wishes blast above all towns,

not willing to accept the price.

The past, forgotten – duty’s gone,

the chances are just vanity;

the smirk believes that it has won

the run for its complacency.

But - what can be a start from scratch

if someone just denies the past?

By cleaning up a running match,

a bungler cheats himself at last.

The pianist

Your hands are floating like a wave,

you delve into the melody,

the movements of your body crave

what words can’t tell - a harmony.

Your eyes, not focussed on the scene,

illuminated by the tone,

release a charming smile, so clean,

could soften hardness of a stone.

Reflexions in your face reveal

aesthesia of deepest soul;

too much to think about or feel,

that’s you and not a masking role.

Your fingers leave the ivory,

a final touch, which fades away,

a sigh brings back reality,

the wellspring of your tunes will stay.

Spring

Melting snow releases

thousand drops of hope,

breath of autumn squeezes

icicles, which mope.

Buds recapture branches,

are about to rive,

loom of spring enhances

quality of life.

Feel a pleasant shiver,

caused by sunny rays,

when they hit the river,

watch the magic haze.

Stalks, no longer spindly,

flowered later on;

colours will be friendly

when the winter’s gone.

Multiple

Can anybody hear the voice

that follows me into aloofness?

And even there it still annoys

and chases me to make me bootless.

Does anybody know to whom

he speaks when talking to my faces?

I’m sitting in a single room,

which seems to me like lots of places.

Is anybody really true

that I can see a ground to ramble,

or is what I can see of you

just a result of my mind’s gamble?

Candlelight dinner

A candle light

invites to a tryst;

its shine, not bright,

is watching the gist.

The magic grows

between our chairs;

what no one knows,

a feeling that dares.

Dinner for two,

enclosed by the night;

tasteful as you,

the witnessing guide.

Flame in the eyes,

arousing a flare,

out of disguise,

a heart in each pair.

Open, the scene,

and dance of the words,

dishes are clean -

a question that hurts.

Blown out, the flame,

a touch of your hand

furthers the game

in love’s wonderland.

Ice flowers

Humid is a ghost

that puts a magic on the windows;

winter is its host

and plays with flowers when the wind blows.

Crystalline and cold,

the branches flow into a netting;

nightly mist unfolds

enchantment of its hidden wetting.

When the blue appears,

the blossoms break the early sunlight;

melting into tears,

will bloom again until next midnight.

Coin

No coin,

surrounded by a cup,

encompassed by two hands,

in rags without a nub.

A man,

surrounded by a crowd,

imbued with casualness,

their purses are so proud.

The mass,

surrounded by a place,

material disguise,

they all are just one race.

The town,

surrounded by the earth,

built up by human hands,

got coins to kill their dearth.

The world,

surrounded by a might,

called logical disease:

No coin, no human right.

Dear Mom

I look into your eyes, dear Mom,

I fly away, and flashes come,

a flush of scenes in memories,

what happened that will never cease.

From childhood legs on we have played,

not funny every word we said,

but always in a special way,

assured me that you don’t betray.

You guided me from year to year

and stuck by me without a fear,

no matter what I said and did,

a lioness kills for her kid.

A laughing and a crying eye

released me so that I could try

to make my own steps into life,

a basic trust made me survive.

The years grew old and you and me,

I swim and dive through open sea,

but sometimes I have been your guest

to serve your heart a well-earned rest.

And now I stroke your cheeks - a smile,

it keeps the memories for a while,

I take your hand and won’t forget

the most beloved Mom I’ve met.

Lunatic

A wall, a hundred windows high,

so calm and captured, every cry,

a waste, the thoughts about their fate,