Sun, wind and storm E-Book

Alfred A. Weber

• Herausgeber: novum pro Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 129

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

How beautiful nature is! What do people do to preserve it? How do women and men treat each other? What social and political changes have there been in recent years and decades? Nature, love, society, politics - Alfred A. Weber puts stories from life into poem form. Some of the poems are serious and thought-provoking. But most of the poems are funny and many are also bizarre. Let yourself be surprised! This is not just a collection of poems to browse through. Short explanations by the author encourage readers to write their own poems.

Leseprobe

Contents of Manuscript 3

4 Pregnancy and birth of a poem

5-6Hooray, I'm a pensioner

7Farewell to the year

7-8Old hands

9The wryneck

9Bullshit

10The poet

11Go home

12-16Trilogy: Playing with fire

16-17 Life support

17-18 Today was not my day

18 The old bag

19 Adonis

20 Elves

21-22 Our earth

23 Mess

24 How do I find a man

25 Just a note

26-27 Bee mortality

27-29 The old man in the park

30 Fog hike

31 Who are you

32 Rules

33 Decisions

34 Homesickness

35-36 Everything has its time

36-37 Topic missed

37-38 Man, wake up

39 Self-employment

40 Limericks

41 Heartache

42 What about me

43 Snowdrops

44 Drought

45 Corona, get lost

46 Corona: The fear is over

47 Corona from the student's perspective

48 Fitness

49 Soul life

50 Offset

51Pets

51Way to success

52Charlie Chaplin

53 Nature man

54Forest air

55Finch cock

56Path and destination

57Problems

58Marital dispute in the henhouse

59Practice makes perfect

60Suffering and lies

61My wisdom

62 To my glasses

63-64 Adventure

64 Will

65 The powerlessness

66 War (1)

67 War (2)

68 War (3)

69On the run

70Seasons of life

71 Vegetables

72 Thing

73 Innocence from the countryside

74 His friend, the tree

75-76 What now

76 The old eagle owl

77 The animal in me

78Christmas night

79Rudi the moose

80 Path and track

81-82 A difficult man

83 School

84 Basta

85 Date

85-86 Advantages in old age

87 False nest

87 Desire

88 Divorce hurts

88-89 Longing of a drop of water

89 quatrain

90 I love myself

91 The haiku

92 Counter acquaintance

93 Cold heart

94 The angler

95 Three sparrows

96 The aphid

97-98 The fig leaf

98 In love

99 The scarecrow

100 Seven little red beetles

101-102 Encounter

103 The straw

104 Freedom

105E-bike king (loosely based on Erlkönig)

106Arrogant rooster

107 Shy love

108 Elsewhere

109 Dream conversation

110 Desert

111-112 Summer

112-113 Caterpillars

113 You do it

114 Flower in winter

115 Cough medicine

116 Mirror on the wall

117 The old bull

118 Metals

119 A smile

120 Swing

121 Worm in the fall wind

221 The cow

122 Separation

123 Quack, quack

124Man flu

125 Stress

126 Tomatoes

127 Hey you

128 Mosquito bite

128-129 The lighthouse

130 Flea latin

130 five-liners

131-132 My 1st day of skiing

133 Fly beast

134Night hike

135 Social death

136 I could be

137 Presentation

138

Sun, wind and storm

Sun, wind and storm,

that's what your life is made of.

You, human, are just a worm,

always want to strive for survival.

The sun brightens your life,

you enjoy every ray of sunshine,

that falls into your heart for seconds,

that is happiness and joy at all times.

The wind blows you away,

that you are not overconfident.

You avoid the headwind;

This is your survival list.

You have to weather the storms in life.

Don't wait and see, you have to act now

and look positively and courageously to the future,

not lose direction under any circumstances.

You are a part of nature, with a firm footing,

no storm can reach you,

have clearly recognized in your life,

Pregnancy & birth

of a poem

I often get pregnant for days

with a new rhyme.

I'm getting more and more anxious,

I am delighted.

The topic is so exciting,

stimulating and interesting,

completely entangling me,

then your hand itches.

These are the most severe contractions,

I'm already sitting at the table

and in no time at all

find rhyming words.

But what do I want to design?

Ballad or song?

Keep it critical or dramatic?

How about epic it happens.

What has matured in me,

in day and night thoughts,

that is only rhymed,

I don't waver at all.

It is deleted and amended,

improved and erased,

the topic is richly framed,

always varies in the rhyme.

The last point is done,

I'll read it again quickly,

and then when it smiled at me,

I spirit father, it my child.

*

Hooray, I'm a pensioner

I've worked all my life,

was as hard-working as a workhorse,

Then I left the world of work.

Now you see me here as a pensioner.

"Actually, I have nothing to do,

than just resting from doing nothing" (Heinrich Zille)

From one day to the next

the time had come:

"Now you have time to hike,

Take your stick and be ready."

"We want to raise our glasses at the end,

to your happy retirement life."

I was shocked by this honor.

I'll never have a holiday off again!

Now I was one of the "young pensioners".

Paid vacation was also a thing of the past.

"How do I get going as a pensioner now?

I asked myself that and sought advice."

Age will not be a cellar for me,

into which I could fall.

I understood very quickly and faster,

how important the retired world can be for me.

"Idleness is not called for,

my heart remained young, I am also old."

I take a deep breath,

review the past.

I'm not afraid to look ahead;

I don't have to be embarrassed by what lies behind me.

"I have lived in love and hate,

and I have left visible traces."

I have won and lost,

have helped out of many an emergency,

knocked desperately on locked gates

and asked: "Why me, dear God?"

"I stumbled and lay down too,

But I got up stronger, again and again."

Now that I'm retired, I'm going to enjoy it,

and I will rediscover myself.

Nobody is going to spoil a single day for me,

no one will stain my new vest.

"I now live more with sense and reason

in my new pensioner status."

I have taken on a new identity,

am no longer a police officer or teacher with a diploma,

I have reached retirement,

in a completely different position.

"I have found my new ME, a new daily structure,

my garden and my woodturning cellar give me pure joy."

I've been a pensioner without boredom for years now,

always have work to do here and there,

am always active, but in no hurry;

the night is there to rest.

"For all the diligence in this rhyme

I also take a break during the day."

I live in a small company at home,

My only boss is my wife,

she chooses the vacation destinations

and also plans these very precisely.

"Hiking and traveling, the pensioner's world."

Hence the misconception: "Pensioners have money!"

*

Farewell to the year

The old year has gone.

Only the memory remains.

We start with the new,

that writes new stories.

New Year's Eve with a good drink,

with wine, schnapps and beer.

Champagne also flowed,

Now I'm sitting here with a headache.

Nausea turns my stomach,

A cold sweat breaks out,

Uphill and downhill cycle,

today I stay at home in misery.

I never want to drink so much again.

No more drinking around the bet',

for the next New Year, my vow.

But today I'm staying in bed.

Because that's a bad start

for the virgin new year.

And I'm still sick as hell,

new things can only get better, indeed.

*

Old hands

Lying in the mother's lap,

many folds, small and large.

The left and also the right,

hard-working servants at work.

Oh my goodness,

why are you so tired now?

on the move for a lifetime,

Now every movement hurts.

They have achieved a great deal

by day and by night.

Tired eyes, tired hands,

speak volumes.

Tired hands, tired eyes,

are good for almost nothing.

There is still so much to do,

no time to rest yet.

Wife, mother, grandma, she was so proud,

until her energy melted out of her body.

Hard work on the farm.

Gradually the muscles slacken.

The evenings last long into the night,

then quietly to bed, very gently'.

The morning always comes all by itself,

She finally fell asleep.

Early in the morning

great difficulty getting up.

Nothing was the same today,

She found it difficult to get up.

She rests in the rocking chair.

Total silence throughout the house.

Her eyes become small,

then she falls asleep peacefully forever.

The old hands

spoke volumes.

The wryneck

In Switzerland and the Palatinate

there is the "wryneck" bird.

He is a woodpecker by nature,

He turns his neck, sometimes left, sometimes right.

The species also exists among humans,

who like to gather in politics.

His opinion in the political house,

goes backwards and sideways and never straight ahead.

If you are hoping for a clear position,

then it is in vain, he changes it too often.

In these cases of a case,

he is nevertheless called a "turncoat".

If you trust his opinion,

he has changed it faster than you think.

Better not believe a single word he says,

because he doesn't stand by it, he prefers to fly away.

*

Nonsense

Roses are red.

The dinosaurs are dead.

In the neighborhood, everyone knows,

there are many a sourpuss.

The sky is blue.

Grandma is gray.

Grandpa steals the neighbor's apples,

looks for every bride on the street.

This is all very embarrassing

and that's why I eat in secret

Strawberry ice cream from the fridge

and stop this shit.

The poet

(Interlaced rhyme) abcabc

Poems in verse and rhyme,

philosophical and also simple,

I'll write them down quickly.

As long as the words germinate in me,

I get closer to the poem;

That's how I do it again and again.

Also funny, sometimes intimate.

Technical reports and also speeches,

to mark the occasion of a celebration.

Then I sit there and ponder for a long time.

What I write, I write for everyone,

both Kunze and Meier.

Poems about nature,

about the farmer's cows and goats

and also wisdom for life,

often across woods and meadows,

that young mothers have children,

the fathers go to work for it,

that's what our culture demands.

Once the final rhyme has been found,

I rest for the next few hours.

Let me enjoy a glass of red wine,

for minutes and seconds,

I do 2-3 laps in my mind,

found new topics soon.

*

Go home

He

Go home to your husband,

He believes in you and worships you.

Don't give yourself away,

do not throw yourself down,

there is no point,

there is no point.

Then you regret it

and want to go home to your husband.

You

Then go home to your wife,

she needs you,

but she can't quite figure you out.

Tell her today,

that you love them,

make her happy,

before you give yourself to me.

Because I know one thing for sure:

Playing with fire

(Trilogy)

Playing with fire (you)

In the Tasna Valley on the bridges,

There sat a couple in love,

they caressed each other with delight,

promised each other fidelity.

He gave her a gold ring,

She took it with a joyful "yes",

He bought it from hard-earned wages,

had paid him in cash.

Under the bridge, the torrential stream

was a witness to the oath of allegiance,

as well as kiss after kiss afterwards,

between mountains and meadows and fields.

Hand in hand and tightly embraced

they went back in the evening.

A love song, sung together,

hearts full of the happiness of love.

The separation at the edge of the village,

sobering and short.

His hand did not find hers,

From a love high to an emotional crash?

Separation, despair, a racing heart:

"When will I see her again",

he thinks in the pain of love:

"How am I supposed to understand this farewell?"

"Why did I let him go without hope?"

"I walk my hardest walk.

I love him, he runs into the place

and I have to go home to my husband."

"I have to tell him soon,

that I'm already taken,

and I'm not allowed to wear the ring either,

That wouldn't make any sense."

"Playing with fire made me happy.

How do I get out of it?

The devil watched and laughed

and my husband is waiting for me at home'."

Bad conscience, hard to hide.

He sensed what was happening today.

He could see how she behaved:

She confessed! But he couldn't understand it.

In the Tasnatal on the bridges,

this couple never sat again.

There were never more caresses with delight,

because she was already married.

Her husband soon divorced her,

the lover emigrated,

She had to suffer the village mockery,

lost her love and her home too!

*

Playing with fire (husband)

For days I have felt

She is often not at home.

I wonder:

"Is she just going out for a walk?"

Today I came home from work

and was then alone.

I ask myself for a long time:

"Where could she be?"

Then she comes and gives me a cursory greeting.

Her gaze, silently straight ahead.

Something is not right!

She avoids my questions.

"It's something I'm worried about,

or are you not feeling well?"

"I was in the valley by the stream,

I rested there a bit."

"Yes, that's where you came from,

you walked hand in hand with someone,

I saw it was an ER,

who disappeared at the edge of the village."

"Is there another man standing there

between the two of us?

and if you love him, then

I would suffer a lot."

"I ask, where is our love?

I see myself alone and very hurt!"

"I've fallen in love, I'm sorry!

It's a good thing I told you, now."

"Where did he run into you?

who now brags about his conquest?

I can sell our house

and it hasn't been paid for a long time!"

"No, I broke up with him,

Please forgive me!"

"Yes, do you think that will happen overnight

and I'm the horned third?"

"Get out of the house and go to him,

I don't want to see you again.

Still together with you is pointless,

You can go to him or to a friend."

Betray our love,

the house is lost,

that we saved up for years.

Debt over both ears.

He sold the house quite quickly.

It was gone, without effort,

for little money, immediately on the Stell,

because it was heavily indebted and mortgaged.

*

Playing with fire (Beloved)

Tuesday and Friday, every week

I met her at the bridges,

We were in love, so in love,